The hard line of his lips is suddenly softer, glistening with faerie mead. The light on his face washes him in gold, not marble. I wonder what he would taste like if I were to kiss him right now.
Is this what I’ve been running from my whole life? Is this what it’s like to care for someone else?The rogue thought wanders across my mind as I stare up at him. How could I have wanted to hide from this?
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to. It was Hook’s fault.”
A lazy smirk crosses his lips. He knows something he’s not telling. That’s what that expression says. But I don’t get to probe. He distracts me with a hand on my face, his thumb dragging across my lips.
“Apologize to the drink. Because rather than being on your tongue it’s now merely on my clothes—a sorry demotion.”
“Eldas,” I whisper thickly. My head tilts slightly into his palm. I have an ache in me, a deep need I’ve never yielded to, and everything in me tells me that giving in is the worst idea possible. But I can’t think straight. Between the mead and his touch, I don’t want to.
“Luella?” My name is a question. What is he asking?
“Yes.” Whatever it is, yes.
His grip on me tightens; he pulls my face upward. My mouth meets his. His arm tightens around me, yanking me even closer. We smell of honey and taste of forgotten dreams. We move like desperation.
The glass I was holding falls, shattering, nearly breaking this trance with it. But Eldas runs his tongue along my lips and I let out a whine I didn’t know I could make. I allow him entry into my mouth and his tongue slips against mine gently—so gently.
Yet his movements are somewhat rough and needy. He’s a man of contrasts. Soft and hard. Cold yet he sets me aflame.
My back is against the mantle by the fireplace. My shoulders arch and I press against him. He holds my face to his until we both are lightheaded and gasping, coming up for air.
Eldas stares at me, lips shining and parted. I meet his gaze with as much shock and awe. The fire burns as blue as his eyes. The shards from my shattered glass are now rose petals.
“We… I…” He breathes heavily. Then, without warning, Eldas steps away. There’s panic in his eyes and fear in his movements. “You’re leaving.”
“I’m right here.” I reach for him; all better judgment has left me.
“No, you’re leaving Midscape. Leaving me. We… I can’t.” The truth sobers us both. “I must go.”
“Eldas—”
He’s gone before I can say more than his name. The fire burns orange once more and the only traces of the king are wisps of the Fade he just fled through.