Part 29 (1/2)

She closed her eyes. Are you my knight?

His hand closed around her own. I'm the thing the knight would kill.

Lethe squeezed his hand, turning in her chair to look up into his eyes. He avoided her gaze at first, then met it square and true.

”No,” she said, and felt eyes staring at the back of her head. Koni and Will. She did not look at them but stood slowly and walked out of the kitchen, pulling Lannes behind her. Rictor was in the hall, just where she had imagined him, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. He said nothing when Lannes and Lethe left the house, though his green eyes tracked them with cutting intensity.

The sun still shone. Looking at the woods made Lethe's skin crawl, but there were plenty of places that the forest did not touch, and she and Lannes ambled in comfortable silence, finally stopping when they reached a lush meadow overlooking a pond.

They sat in the gra.s.s. The air was warm.

Lethe said, ”Did you know anything like that could exist? Anyone like her?”

”I knew of her possibility,” Lannes replied, picking at gra.s.s. ”But it's not something you think about. Or want to think about.”

A chill stole through her. Those images, the Sidhe queen's voice, all were burned into her mind. ”I can't fight Runa, you know. I can't kill her or hurt her. And not because she's protected in that wood. I just... it wouldn't be right.”

”She's using you. That's not right.”

Lethe leaned against him and ran her fingers over his chest through the illusion of his s.h.i.+rt. He began to hold her hand, but she pulled away.

”I'm sick of the mask,” she said bluntly. ”I know why you use it, obviously, but it's not you, I can see it's not you, and not being able to look at your real face is driving me nuts. So take it off. Please.”

He leaned back, staring, and the trepidation that rolled through their bond made her teeth hurt. Up until that moment, she had thought that he might have seen inside her head the images she had gleaned from their shared vision in the dome, but it was obvious he had not. He did not know that she was already aware of what he looked like. Unless that had been a hoax, as well.

”Don't ask me if I'm sure,” she said, when he opened his mouth to speak. ”Just do it.”

Lannes said nothing. He turned away from her, shoulders hunched, still playing with the gra.s.s between his fingers. At first she thought he was ignoring her, but then she noticed a s.h.i.+ft in his appearance, a subtle one.

The easing off of his mask happened slowly, in bits and pieces. His skin became splotchy, as did his s.h.i.+rt, until finally he wore no s.h.i.+rt, and she could appreciate a broad chest thick with muscle and skin the color of dusk. Bits and pieces of the illusion frayed from his wings as well.

Watching it was another kind of enchantment. He had no idea, she realized. Not one clue. To see him like that, so natural, so real, made her heart leap into her throat with a painful stutter. Maybe it was affection, maybe her own eccentricity, but much to her relief she found him almost painfully attractive, and unconditionally masculine. His profile was hawkish and sharp, his long black hair flowing wild around his shoulders between his flowing cape-like wings. Every hard muscle was chiseled as though from stone. He was physically perfect, if rough around the edges. Or perhaps because of it.

And he was kind. Effortlessly kind.

Lannes glanced sideways at her, and Lethe slid her hand under his jaw, making him fully face her.

Nothing had changed from her dream of him in the dome-except, this was no vision, and she was under blue sky with the sun s.h.i.+ning. No monsters were breathing down their necks. Not yet.

”I like your face,” she said. ”I love your face.”

Lannes went very still. Lethe slid her arms around his waist and held on. Between their minds, she tasted a thrill of wonder and fear.

Lethe kissed him. It was no different now, without the mask-no, that wasn't true; it was even better, she thought, taking a visceral pleasure in being able to open her eyes and glimpse something real and true. His face. Craggy as a mountainside, almost as rough, but his mouth was hard and his tongue slipped against hers, and a thrill raced from her heart to her stomach, making everything tighten, and ache.

You're not alone, she told him, so filled with emotion she could not have spoken out loud had she tried. Lannes, you're not alone.

He made a small desperate sound, his hands creeping around her waist, and she slid even closer, her mouth moving over his warm skin as her fingers danced across his back, stroking the edge of his wings. Lannes arched his back, breath rattling in his throat. Her fingers slipped across his stomach, sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans. Picking up where she had left off.

Lethe unb.u.t.toned his pants slowly, leaning back to watch his eyes. And to let him watch her. She could feel him searching her mind, her face-every part of her-for some sign of rejection. Anything.

But all she felt was reckless tenderness, a need for him that went beyond mere desire, that was rooted deep in her soul, in every breath, in her desire to keep living. She wanted to live. With him.

Lannes's eyes darkened, and he grabbed her hand. Lethe tried to pull away, protesting. ”You're not going to stop me this time.”

”I didn't plan on it,” he muttered hoa.r.s.ely, dragging her close. ”But you need to know something before we do this.”

”Sounds ominous.”

”Maybe.” Lannes slid his hands into her hair, holding her face. His palms and fingers were huge and gnarled, his nails dull as silver, and sharp. But he touched her so carefully she hardly felt his strength, and his blue eyes held veins of light.

”If we do this,” he whispered. ”You're mine. And I mean that, Lethe.”

”Promise?” she breathed, beginning to tremble.

Lannes inhaled sharply. ”Just like I'll be yours.”

Lethe leaned in, pressing her lips to his ear. ”Is this a gargoyle thing?”

”No,” he murmured. ”I just love you, that's all.”

She bowed her head, sagging against him. Opening her mind. There was so little of it left, her mind, but she bared it all and the link between them burned white-hot, as though she had the sun in her soul.

I cannot imagine my life without you, she whispered in his mind.

Then don't, he told her. Don't, when you know how I feel about you.

She wrapped herself around his body. Heart to heart. Ma.s.sive muscles gliding beneath her hands. Being held by him felt the same as nesting in some soft warm home, and she was hungry for a home, aching to feel safe. She tried to see him, all of him, but he was so big and so close that all she could savor were s.n.a.t.c.hes of his face, and hard muscle, the curve of a wing arched over his shoulder. He smelled sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon. Same man, she told herself. Real man. Not a mask of light and air, but something else.

He was awkward with her clothes. She ripped them off while he shoved down his jeans. She did not give him time to push them past his knees before she pounced, dragging her tongue over his shaft. His fingers dug into his scalp, and he let out a stifled groan. Lethe laughed.

”I hope you're not laughing at me,” he rasped, though his voice also shook, and he ended up collapsing on his knees beside her. ”I have a delicate ego.”

”Nothing about you is delicate,” she said, then straddled him, burying her hands in his hair, kissing the tip of his ear. ”Except this.”

She kissed his eyelid. ”And this.”

Her lips brushed his lips. ”And this.”

”How about my heart?” he whispered against her mouth.

”How about mine?” she replied.

She gasped as he laid her down in the gra.s.s, his lips and hands caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-gently at first, then harder. She arched her back, trying to wind her leg around his hip, but he slid away, moving lower, with an awkwardness that was so tender she could hardly stand it. When he hooked her legs over his shoulder, she said, ”Have you done this before?”

Lannes mumbled something. Lethe said, ”What?”