“No. We can’t work through this. It’s something we can’t break. No. The answer is no.”
Her tone had a sense of finality to it, and she was ready to make her escape. She had to escape, otherwise, she was going to wind up throwing something at him in anger... possibly herself.
Very likely herself, given how cold she felt, and how warm she justknewhe was.
“We’re going to talk about this, Violet,” Henrik insisted, and just like in her dream, he took a step towards her... but not just one. Multiple steps as he moved into her path, keeping her from walking away from him.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Henrik.” What was she saying? Fuck, the same words as her dream—“You and I, we can’t be together. My magic, it’s too powerful.”
So help her, if he said that cheesy line from her dream—
“So you’re just going to give up? You’re going to just accept that we can’t be? That we can’t have anything? You were never the sort of person to give up. You kept going. You were always the one determined to try, to do more, to be something. What happened to you, Violet. What happened to—“
That’s it, she was going to throw her cup at him if he kept talking.
“What happened? I grew up! That was... that was over a decade ago! We were different people! Children! We didn’t know the world or what was at stake, but now I do!”
“So what, because of a little fire—“
“Nothing about it islittle.“ He had never really seen the flames... had never felt them burning at her skin. “And yes, I’m scared of the fire. Scared of what it might do to you. What if I hurt you? What if... what if itkilledyou?”
“I’m not afraid of the flames, Violet. Not if walking through them leads me to you.”
Fuck...fuck. That line was almost cheesy, but the way he spoke it with such conviction, like he really would walk through the flames, when the possibility of it was truly there...
“Kiss me, just once. Put those perfect full lips on mine. Let me taste you, really taste you. I’ve been dreamin’ of it for as long as I can remember, and I ain’t never had you, not really. Let me kiss you, let me burn for you, and then—“
She hadn’t realized he was moving closer until it was too late to pull away. She looked up from where her gaze had been locked on the desk, her half-drunk mug sitting there, to see that he was so close, she could reach out and touch him. So close, and yet—
His hand lifted up to touch her, but it hovered, as though waiting for permission to break through a barrier that wasn’t even there. No... he was waiting for permission. Waiting for permission from her. Waiting for her to say that hecouldtouch her, that he could evenkissher, could wrap his arms around her and whisk her away and simplybe with her.
She wanted it. She wanted it so badly that it hurt. Every hair on her body was standing up, and she could practically feel the electricity in the room, ready to spark, ready to ignite. She could feel the flames fanning around her, tickling at her palms, at the nape of her neck, even at her eyelashes. Every part of her body felt ready to be engulfed by the flames, and she was prepared to take that step. Prepared to cut the distance between them, to wrap herself up in him. She could survive the flames in his arms, could survive whatever came their way.
He was made for her, just as she was made for him. Two halves of a whole, two soulmates, meant to bind their lives to one another, meant to wrap their magic in and through and around, over and over again, until there was no longer a Henrik and a Violet, but instead a them. They were meant to be as one, always, eternally.
She took in a deep breath slowly, preparing herself for the burn. He was the one reaching out, always the one reaching out, but she would be the one to close the distance. She would be the one to press her cheek to his palm, and she would be the one to pull him in close. A response to all of his pleas. She would finally give him an answer.
She wanted his kiss. Just once. Just once, she wanted to taste him on her lips, with nothing holding them back.
Only, her feet wouldn’t move, and her lips, they wouldn’t part. Was it magic, keeping her from him? Magic, binding her, keeping her from taking that step forward?
Or was it fear keeping her from her eternal happiness? Fear keeping her from him.
His hand dropped back to his side, and all at once, tears began to fill her eyes. He was so close, so close to her, but she couldn’t move forward. She couldn’t, because what if it hurt him? What if he burned? What if she destroyed the man she loved? What if her magic punished him? What if—
She didn’t know. She had no answers. Only fear, and fire... and fire always burned.
“Violet,” he murmured, the sadness seeping into his words. “Fuck, Violet... if I could hug you, I would.”
“You can’t touch me,” she whispered. “No one can...”
“No one?” he questioned, his eyebrow lifting. He took a step back, straightening as he did so, and raised his brow. “But, you’re a tattoo artist, right? So that means you’re touchin’ people?”
Taking in a deep breath, Violet tried to clear her thoughts, and her head. Touching people? What was he talking about? Oh, well— “Not... yes. Okay, it’s not... I touch people with gloves on. Never my bare hands.”
“So you can touch me with gloves!”
“Henrik.”