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And if I want it to be?What if she wanted to crawl out of her clothes and peel him out of his and save him from the banshee’s prophecy by marking his flesh with hers? The thought sank in its teeth, convincing her that all she had to do to save him was bury him under her skin.
You can’t do that,a voice reminded her.It doesn’t work that way. He isn’t worth what you would lose in the process. Don’t let him in any further.
She pulled away from him, carefully, slowly. “Distract me,” she begged. “Talk, recite poetry, sing—whatever. Only banish the silence.”
Hawthorn paused, and then that old familiar smirk spread across his cheeks. “Hmm, I can’t seem to think of any poetry right now. I’ll happily reel off a list of insults for you, though?”
It was silly and forced and exactly what she needed. Laughter and their usual barbs, nothing serious.
A list of insults.
The notebook.
“I started reading your notebook.”
Hawthorn tensed, almost imperceptibly. “I see.”
“What’s the meaning of it?”
“Insults,” he admitted. “I got into the habit of collecting ones for you.”
“What? Why?”
“To practise them.”
“Practise?”
“Because I struggled to find ones that were true.” He paused, as if waiting for Juliana to comment, bracing himself for the strike that didn’t come. “Have you read all of it?”
“No, not yet.”
“You may wish to ignore the later entries. Or maybe just burn them.”
“That juicy? Can’t wait.”
Hawthorn did not smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I remember you said not to read it if we still had to face each other, but I wasn’t sure if this was going to happen again and I…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said, tilting his head, “although Iamcurious.”
“I may have been at a loss for company the other night, was all.”
His eyes gleamed. “Youmissedme.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She elbowed him in the stomach, he pretended she’d been too rough, and they sat down together on the ground, Juliana tucking her feet underneath her. She waited for Hawthorn to make a joke about her attire, but he didn’t. “Still cold?” was all he said.
Juliana nodded, and Hawthorn unbuckled his doublet and draped it over her shoulders, still warm from his body. For some reason, it made her skin prickle more, the pendant heating between her breasts.
How is it I can still feel you?she wondered.Why is your warmth different?
Hawthorn caught her gaze, almost as if he could read her thoughts, and she waited for another barb that didn’t come. Instead, he spoke to her of nothing—tales of their childhood, shared teachers they’d disliked, books they’d been made to read, old friends and enemies and what they hoped they’d been doing when the curse took effect.
“I hope Raife finally spoke to that merrow he was mooning over.”
