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“I am now,” he said, leaning his forehead to mine. “I will be now.”
He kissed me, strong and deep. One hand cupped my cheek, and the other went to my hip, gripping me tightly. Something welled from deep inside me. Something big and warm and powerful. It was sympathy. It was empathy. It was protective. It was defensive. It was ready to go to war for him.
It was love.
Because I did love Apollo. I loved him with every fibre of my being. Loving him was woven into the very fabric of who I was, who I’d always be. I needed him in my life. I needed to be with him.
Part of it was newly sexual, all of it was spiritual, but I didn’t know that any of it was very romantic. Not yet. Potential. There was definitely potential for it to be romantic, but it would always be more than that. What I had with Apollo would always be familial. No matter where we went from here, he was my family. He was mine as I was his. Nothing could shatter that bond. And God knew that many Magdalens had tried.
I pushed Apollo down to sit on the couch and climbed into his lap. I didn’t know what I was trying to achieve, what either of us might instigate, or where this might lead. I didn’t have a plan. I just needed to be close to him. We’d never done feelings and emotions before, not like this, not for many years. And I doubted he’d talk about them even if I tried. So the only thing I knew how to do was kiss him and hope that it distracted him long enough to bring him some comfort.
Apollo kissed me with passion. His hands splayed on my back, holding me to him close. He wrapped his arms around me and brought me closer. My hands were in his hair and our bodies rocked together subconsciously.
I lost track of how long we just kissed.
His hand had ended up under my top and he kneaded me gently. It sent a jolt of pleasure to my clit and I nipped his lip.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
I felt him smile and he pulled his lips from mine and leant his forehead to mine again.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” he breathed.
“Is that good or bad?” I asked.
He kissed me quickly, but it didn’t linger. “Good. So fucking good.” His nose trailed over my cheek. “I need you, Harlow,” he murmured. “I didn’t know how much I needed you.”
I hugged him close. “He’ll be okay,” I said firmly.
“He’ll be okay.” Apollo nodded and buried his face in my neck. “He’ll be okay,” he repeated, like it had become his personal mantra.
By the time Valen was back on Wednesday, he looked haunted. He was a pale, haggard shadow of the man I’d last seen four days earlier. There were circles under his eyes, and they weren’t all bruising. Whether Apollo didn’t care what Valen looked like, or it was just far better than Apollo had dared hope for, Valen’s return put the spring back in Apollo’s step.
It was back to holding my hand, surprise kisses, swinging me around in the hallway. I didn’t see Apollo without a wide smile on his face all day.
“Tonight,” he said to me, almost bouncing with too much energy. “You and me.”
I looked at him. “Movie?”
He shrugged. “Don’t care.”
His happiness was infectious and I smiled. “Maybe. I need to hang out with Florence for a bit, but after dinner?”
Apollo nodded, then his eyes slid behind me. “Sounds perfect.” He kissed me, then bounded off.
I turned to see him catching up with Valen, who was surrounded by a cloud of vape smoke like his own personal storm made manifest.
“Did you see Valen?” Florence asked me.
I nodded, my eyes still on him.
“Clearly someone has feelings about Apollo claiming you.”
I shook my head. “It’s just a coincidence,” I told her.
“A coincidence that he left the day Apollo decided you were kissable in public?”
“Of course it is. Valen Kincaid doesn’t just disappear because Apollo kissed me.”
