Page 15 of Crimson Mate
It takes all of a second for the shock to wear off before my arms fold around her automatically, drawing her body flush against mine as I slant my mouth over hers.
I take control of the kiss, losing myself in the sensation of her lips against mine. Against the soft way she feels against every hard inch of me.
Fire ignites in a trail that grazes down my spine—every noise, every sound, every smell disappearing except for hers.
She gasps, her lips parting to let me in, my tongue exploring hers in a way I've craved for centuries. Her intoxicating scent of lavender and lemons filling my senses makes me ache for her so much it’s painful.
I back her against the wall, tucking us farther into that alcove without ever breaking our kiss.
Her hands explore the back of my neck and the line of my jaw before grazing lower, over my chest until she fists my suit jacket. Then she’s pulling me closer, kissing me harder, giving back everything I'm taking and then some.
She tastes like a dream and feels just as good, and I feel like I'm taking my first full breath in five hundred years.
My hands roam down her sides, my fingers teasing the bare skin of her thigh through the slit of her dress.
“Z,” she sighs between my lips, and the once endearing nickname has me backing away from her just an inch to meet her gaze, my heart filling with hope at the need in her voice.
“Say the word and we’ll be back at the residence in seconds,” I say, my chest heaving, the blood thrumming through my veins with one distinct demand—bite, claim.
She blinks a few times, as if some fog has cleared from her mind. Her eyes snap to the display cases, and she gently pushes me away. “It's gone,” she says, motioning to where the statue had been moments ago. The case was now empty, and none of the patrons seemed to have noticed it was taken.
We both scan the area for any sign of Conrad, but there is none.
“Shit,” she snaps. “I should’ve grabbed him. I should’ve taken him, anddamnthe consequences. Who gives a shit if I caused a scene if we had him? If you hadn't distracted me?—”
“Me?” I cut her off, unable to hold back my smile. “You're the one who kissed me. How can you be mad at me?”
“He would’verecognizedme and started up the damn cat and mouse game we’ve been playing for months,” she says, shaking her head. “Don't flatter yourself. That kiss was part of the mission. One I thought we still had a chance at completing up until two seconds ago.”
I step closer to her, sliding my hand along her lower back and damn near shuddering when she doesn't immediately pull away.
“It wasn't for me,” I say, already gathering my magic to wend us back to the residence, knowing that we’ve failed our operation, but have taken one step closer toward reconciliation whether she wants to admit it or not. “It wasn't part of the mission for me,” I reiterate. “Nothing with you will ever be just part of the mission. Because I'm still fully and wholly in love with you.”
CHAPTER 6
Talia
“Because I'm still fully and wholly in love with you.” Zachariah’s words echo in my mind as he wends us back to the king's residence, appearing just outside my current quarters.
My heart clenches, stinging like he’s just twisted the knife that’s been lodged there for centuries.
I stare up into his eyes for a moment, contemplating how he can say such a declaration and yet completely ignore the betrayal and hurt he delivered all those years ago.
The pain from that loss radiates throughout my body, giving me exactly enough strength to step out of his embrace, shoving him a little when his hands linger on my arms.
“Don't worry, it'll fade,” I say, packing as much disdain as I can into the statement even though it’s a complete and bold-faced lie.
It’s never faded for me.
It merely morphed into something painfully tangible, a visceral haunting that plagues me on a nightly basis.
“How can you be so cruel?” Zachariah asks, genuine remorse and shock shaping his features.
I swallow the lump in my throat, glancing around the hallway only to find it empty with no outlet for a distraction, no excuse I can use to get out of this conversation.
“You have some nerve callingmecruel, Zachariah,” I say, folding my arms over my chest like that might protect my heart. “It's been centuries for me,” I continue. “And been what, two years for you?” I ask, having gathered pieces of the past from my conversations with the girls.
Zachariah tilts his head, that look on his face he gets when he’s about to correct me. “More like two years plus five months. Ajax did his whole time-stop thing so we could catch up?—”