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But he doesn’t let go. His fingers remain wrapped around mine, and we stare at each other, neither one of us blinking.
His other hand reaches for my face. His fingers trail down my cheek, tracing my jawline and then the curve of my neck. I shiver from his touch.
“May I kiss you?” His words are as sacred as a hushed prayer.
I can say nothing. The way he gazes at me—the way he touches me— overwhelms all my senses. I manage a small nod.
Nolan leans closer, leaving only a strand of distance between our lips. His fingers skim across my collarbone and over my neck. His emerald eyes settle onto my lips. He hesitates for so long that I wonder whether he has changed his mind. Whether in the next heartbeat, he will withdraw and leave my lips untouched.
But then he kisses me.
At first I freeze, unsure of the steps to this dance I have not known for so long. His lips are unfamiliar against mine but my uneasiness soon thaws, and I fall into his rhythm, kissing him back with as much certainty.
He pulls me in deeper, his fingers tangling through my hair, and I am lost to the bliss of his fervent touch. All else ceases to exist. There’s only the scorch of his lips and the sting of his stubble grazing my skin.
His hand drifts from my neck, gliding over my shoulders and down my arms. My silk shawl falls loose, tumbling to the stone bench beneath us and leaving me exposed. I tremble, and he reaches for my hand, stroking my palm with his thumb. The tingle sends a dizzying rush crashing into me.
I don’t know how I felt nervous about Nolan, about kissing him, because in this moment everything feels so achingly right.
When he lifts his lips from mine and ends our kiss, it feels far too soon. My breaths are uneven and heavy. Despite the aether barrier humming around us, sheltering us from the elements, I feel oddly cold. Already I crave the warmth of his lips.
His fingers return to my neck, sweeping over my skin and down my chest. Molten heat floods through me, and I wonder whether his touch will reach lower still. But he comes to a stop at the locket sitting below the hollow of my neck. He toys with it, his gaze fixed onto the silver heart.
I jerk back, pulling the locket from his grasp. The last thing I want is for the magic to pour out and the memory inside to play. For him to hear the promise Arluin made.
A flash of hurt flickers in his eyes. When I blink, the emotion is already long gone. Guilt stabs my gut. But I don’t know who I am betraying.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
Maybe he thinks my pulling away means I’m rejecting him. I lower my gaze, focusing on my shawl beneath us. “The necklace was from someone important.”
He frowns at me. “From whom?”
I swallow. “My... my mother.”
I feel awful for deceiving him, but I don’t know how else to explain the locket. If I speak about Arluin, I fear he will hear the affection in my voice. And that whatever is blossoming between us will never have the chance to flourish.
At least that’s how I justify the lie.
“I see,” he says, releasing the necklace.
We say nothing then, and I feel increasingly worse. Eventually, when I can bear it no longer, I reach for his hand. He glances up at me, surprised by the gesture. Maybe he interpreted my withdrawal as rejection.
“Thank you for tonight,” I whisper. “I’ve had such a wonderful time.”
His golden brows pinch together. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” I reply, but it seems to do little to relieve his uncertainty. “I’m sorry about how I reacted just then. My mother died a few years ago, and her absence is still raw.” While that’s no lie, it is deceitful. To remedy the situation, I am spinning an even deeper web of dishonesty.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
“I would like to see you again,” I say. “There will be a Ball tomorrow night in the Arcanium. Assuming I pass the Trial of Magic, that is.”
“You will pass.” He says those words with great certainty. I wish I had as much confidence in myself.
“I know you’ll be busy working in your tavern, but it would mean a lot to me if you are able to come.”
“I’ll be there,” he assures me.
