Malice lifts his unruly head and leans in for a kiss. She veers back, happy to tease but likewise curious. “When did you get this marking?”
“Have a thing for my tat?” He grins, flashing chiseled incisors. “I fancy what you fancy.”
Wonder sweeps hair from his forehead. “Since when?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
His flirty tone makes it clear to what he’s referring. The fact that he’s rooted inside her has everything to do with it.
He pecks her lips and shifts, readjusting her position in his arms, bringing her closer. “Can we talk about the fact that you’ve stolen my virginity in a forbidden domain? This takes trespassing in a restricted section to a whole new level. How edgy of you.”
Wonder chuckles. “I did not steal it, you scoundrel.”
“No, you’ve stolen other things.”
His sultry tone darkens. He might mean the letter from his saddlebag, but his answer seems directed elsewhere.
Wonder would ask him to elaborate, but then Malice casts his ink a sideways glance. “Some archers in the Peaks are mighty talented artists. I got this one after my first nightmare.”
“Oh…” Wonder hesitates at the design. “Did it hurt?”
“Always worried about everyone more than yourself.” Affection and residual pleasure douse the inferno in his irises, revealing glossy rings of gray. “I’m betting it didn’t hurt as much as your scars. Whenever I look at them, I get pissed off at the universe. Say the word, and I’ll claw out the Courts’ innards.”
“You’d do that without me having to say a thing. Not that I approve.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Wildflower. Your approval means more than you know.” He traces her jawline with his nose. “It didn’t hurt as much as the nightmare.” He sets a pinky against her lips, preventing her from waxing sympathetic. “Shush. It takes more than a verbal reference to trigger me.”
“No, it does not. It takes a syllable.”
“Okay, sure, but I’d rather screw you senseless again than have a meltdown. But that means being at my full capacity.”
“This is an awfully sudden change of heart.”
“Is it?” he counters. “Angst is an aphrodisiac. We’ve been at this foreplay ever since you showed up in the Celestial City, looking like some magnificent meringue palace, all whipped curves and sugar. You’d fixate on me like I actually meant something to you. I’d never raged so much in my life or gotten so randy.”
Wonder suppresses a smile. “You scarcely knew me.”
“And that matters because…” When she gives him an evident look, he says, “You don’t put much stock in the sex appeal of animosity, much less your gorgeous intelligence. Besides, I could echo the same about not knowing me. By the way? Echoing is fun, listening to yourself reverberate down a chasm.” He howls, the sound quavering through the Chamber, diving into the floor and soaring to the ceiling. “Heard that? You should try it.”
“To say the least, my lungs have been depleted.”
“Speaking of depletion, I’ve got an idea.”
“Sleep,” she translates.
Malice gives her neck a love bite. “You read my mind.”
He carries Wonder from the aisle, cradling her to him while traveling naked from the Hollow Chamber. It’s anarchy, but she’s too startled to protest.
Her nightgown may be a tattered swatch hanging from her shoulders, but she’s not about to discard it here, and they shouldn’t leave his clothes behind, either. And what about their archery? The disarray of books?
“Malice,” she chides. “I can walk.”
“Wow.” His eyes widen with mock discovery. “So can I.”
“The weapons—”
“I’ll get them later.”
“You cannot possibly make it to the tower while you’re still—”
“Oh, you’d better believe I can. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay like this for the rest of the night. It’s so cozy inside you. I might relax and read a book.”
Her mouth plummets open—and then she barks with laughter. One moment, she can predict to the consonant what he’ll say. The next, most decidedly not.
This is insane, leaving behind proof of their residence, but Malice’s indifference has as much to do with reason as it does with carelessness. What are the odds that anyone will turn up during Stellar Worship? What are the chances that somebody will visit the Archives, much less the Chamber’s restricted section?
Malice lugs her from the area, migrates across walkways, and hikes stairs, emerging into the Archives’ main foyer. Their nudity, plus the fact that he’s lodged inside her, causes Wonder’s chortles to double.
Her forehead drops onto his shoulder, her joints loosening, her body shaking with scandalized humor. This journey is ridiculous, comical, and rather sweet. She cannot believe they’re doing this, nor can she fathom what’s happened over the past few hours.
In between chuckles, the trip causes her to jostle against him, the friction inducing groans from Malice, whimpers from Wonder. They make it as far as a velvet couch amidst written retellings of dreams. They bounce onto the cushions, Wonder throwing her head back and tittering as he devours her neck. She scrapes through his curls, arching her back and shivering under his mouth until exhaustion forces them to slump. That’s when Malice withdraws from her, the intimate place that he’d filled suddenly empty.
She divests herself of the torn nightgown, letting it fall to the floor. Together, they twist, entangling their limbs like vines. She burrows her face into his throat, and his lips mash into the crown of her head, all of which inspires another sentimental gulp.
Safety. That’s what this feels like.
Something phenomenal has happened tonight. Many infinite somethings.
She dreads where this will lead in the morning. But for now, she sinks into the cushions, her toes pressing against his.
His breath stirs her hair as he mumbles, “Your mind is a kaleidoscope, spinning and tossing prisms all over this world. You can pull a dozen unanswerable questions from a single moment. You dance with dragonflies and dote on your friends, because you’re loyal and find happiness through others. Your eyes change tint depending on what book you’re reading. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Wonder exhales. It seems that he’s been measuring her more than she had thought. From the onset, just as she’d been compiling details about him, he’d been doing the same about her.
“What do you want more than anything?” he asks. “Don’t hold back, or I’ll know.”
“To forgive myself.” There’s no response as they let the answer simply exist. And then she whispers, “You?”
“To know myself.”
“And what are you most afraid of?”
Malice’s smooth chest rises and falls. “Same thing.”
Wonder nods. “Yes.”
The very same thing.
***
Her eyelids beat like wings. The space around her is a watercolor of imagery without borders, rippling at first and then finally solidifying into furniture.
Wonder pats the couch, skimming the pads of plump velvet. Then her eyelids flip open. Naked and on her back, she gapes at the ceiling and experiences a flutter of panic.