My cheeks grow hot, and I stand, fuming. “I’ll stick it right in your heart, asshole!” I yank my hair inside the tower. “I don’t have to let anyone down!”
Everyone jumps back, and even Brahm gasps.
“What?”
Brahm takes a careful step forward, studying my face. “Your eyes flashed black again, but so did your veins.”
I shudder and shake my head. What have I become? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. Of course, I’ll let you all down.” I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath, letting the fog of anger fade away. “But you might slip.”
“Here.” Willa walks up to me and plaits my hair into a long braid.
I test it. Sure enough, when I lean out the window, a long, chunky braid falls to the ground.
“You first.” I point to Ferdinand. “I don’t want to spend another moment in your presence.”
I brace myself against the window. Brahm holds my waist tight as Ferdinand grabs the braid and lowers himself down the tower. I expected pain, but my head doesn’t hurt at all from the weight. After Ferdinand makes it to the ground, Gunther ushers Willa forward. Her face is ghostly white.
“Gisela, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I swear I didn’t know Ferdinand was going to attack you,” Willa says as she grabs my hair and begins her descent. “I hope we figure something out to get you down.”
“Goodbye, Gisela,” Gunther says and grips the braid next. “I’ll look for the stairwell or some long vines when I get down there.”
Once Gunther makes it to the ground, Brahm sits on the window ledge and pulls me into a hug. The sky is now purple and pink, the fog will surely arrive soon.
“Brahm, go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You must.”
“I love you, Freckles.”
“Brahm.”
“I’m sorry. I know my timing is never right. But if not now, when?” He looks into my eyes. “I can’t go another moment without telling you how I feel—how I’ve always felt. You’ve possessed my heart since we were children. You’re my Freckles, and I love you.”
The air refuses to enter my lungs, and the heat in my cheeks matches the rosiness of Brahm’s. I stare at his drooping eyes and quivering jaw. I’ve denied it for so long, but it’s true. Brahm and I have always been…something.
The stones around my heart crumble and turn to dust.
Grinning, I straddle Brahm’s lap and run my hands up his chest. Brahm’s eyes grow wide. My heart races against his, and I grow warm all over. Our lips are deliciously close and ready to meet.
“Hey! Are you coming?” Gunther yells up.
Brahm groans and leans out the window a bit. “I’ll be right there.”
“Alright, we’re going to look for something to help,” Gunther says.
Brahm waves him away and turns back to me, biting his lip and resting his hands on my waist. I’m so nervous. He confessed his love to me, but I need him to know the truth about my feelings.
“After Wil’s death, I kept you at a distance.” I drag my fingers through his four-day scruff and tousle his rope-like tresses. “I wasn’t ready to be happy—but I missed you terribly. It was your music that kept me alive all this time. I need you, Brahm.”
“You have me.”
Excitement flows through me. Brahm slides his hands up my back, drawing our bodies even closer. I lean in for a kiss.
“Wait,” Brahm says with a sultry grin. “How do I know it’s really you this time?”
“Ask me something only I would know.”
“Hmm.” He traces his thumb over my lips, causing me to forget how to breathe. “Remember when we were kids playing by the creek? It was the first time—of many—that I asked you to marry me. What was your answer?”
I giggle and nod, remembering it well. “I said I couldn’t marry you because I was your goddess.”
“And you are, Gisela,” he says and combs his fingers through my hair. “I will worship you always.”
“Then kiss me, my subject.”
“Yes.”
Brahm draws my face close and presses his lips against mine. They’re soft and sweet. We linger with our lips locked, savoring the moment. Intense heat bursts through my body, and my heart threatens to fly away. Brahm’s hand snakes around my waist as he moans. I never wish to be apart from him.
Every crystal he sacrificed, every dance under the full moon, every song he hummed in my ear…Brahm’s rituals are culminating in this magnificent kiss. Our lips and tongues dance. Our hands fervidly touch. Brahm’s kiss is everything I ever imagined and more. He makes me feel weak and strong at the same time.
When I’m breathless, I draw my lips away to inhale. Brahm kisses my earlobe, causing me to release a sigh. His lips caress my neck, but the pinkish-orange glow over the mountains steals my attention.
“Brahm. The sunrise,” I whisper. “The fog will come soon. Go on, climb down my hair.”
“I told you, I’m not leaving you.” He nuzzles my neck.
“The lute!” I shout.
“Music at a time like this?”
“No, to get me down,” I gesture to the window. “We can wedge it against the corner of the window and loop my hair through. You climb down first, then lower me with the slack.”
“You’re brilliant.” Brahm lifts me and kisses my lips again.
Although I desire to melt into him, I know we must hurry. I grin and grab the lute. Brahm winds my braid around the instrument, and I lean out the window. My hair grows long. Brahm carefully wedges the lute and tugs on the hair. It holds, and the braid doesn’t grow short again. Before he climbs down, Brahm turns back to me.
“That kiss was incredible, Freckles. I love you.” He pauses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry I keep saying it. Um…may I kiss you once more before we climb down?”
I caress his cheek, and we kiss soft and slow this time. I’m not ready to say it aloud, but I trace the words I love you with my tongue against his. He touches my hand and moves his lips away to kiss my forehead.
“Mmm, you’re spectacular. I’ll get you down, I promise.”
With one more peck on the lips, Brahm descends the tower, using my braid as a ladder.
He makes it about halfway down the tower when the wood of the lute cracks. The instrument bends to the max, and each string pops with its own unique twang. Before I can shout, the lute snaps in half. My loops of hair fly out with the shards of wood and fall slack into the air.
“Hang on!” I yell, bracing myself against the stones.
Grasping the braid in a tight embrace, Brahm freefalls until the rope of hair goes taught. He slams against the side of the tower with a thud. He moans and slides the rest of the way. When he falls onto the ground near the skeletons, Brahm holds his shoulder and stares up at me.
“Freckles!” He shakes his head, pushing himself from the ground. “I’m climbing back up.”
“No, your shoulder’s hurt.” I tug my braid beyond his reach.
Pacing the circular room in a panic, I think about all the things I wish to tell Brahm before the fog arrives. Before I die alone up here.