The Wood Queen
Page 14
She’d needed him tonight.
Donna watched as Xan’s expression switched to concern. She knew what she must look like; how wild and panicked she seemed.
“Donna, what is it? Was it the trial? I’m sorry I didn’t get your calls earlier, I—”
But he stopped talking when he really looked at her, standing shell-shocked under the flickering streetlight in the early hours of the morning.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything, to share the burden of all the awful things that had passed between her and Aunt Paige. And how could she even begin to explain how she’d gotten here? One minute in her aunt’s study, the next … halfway across town. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like something had frozen her, right there on Xan’s doorstep. She looked down, suddenly conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a coat and that her tattoos were on display. No gloves.
She was so cold.
Xan rested his warm hand on her shoulder, drawing her into the house and closing the door behind them. His green eyes flashed brighter-than-human in the gloom of the hallway.
Donna wondered if her legs would hold her much longer. She wanted to lie down and sleep, maybe hide under a warm blanket and not come out for a very long time. Maybe not ever. She was horribly aware of the fact that she must look half-crazed, but she couldn’t seem to move or speak. She realized that she was in shock, but knowing it and doing something about it were two entirely different things.
So she stood and shivered, with her arms a barrier across her stomach and her tattoos aching worse than ever.
Xan touched her cheek and she flinched.
He immediately pulled back, worry leaving a crease between his eyes that made him look much older. “You have to talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened. How did you get here? Did you take a cab? How long have you been standing outside, waiting? You must be freezing …”
Donna licked her lips and tried to speak. She felt like the heroine in a fairy-tale, struck dumb by magic and only able to regain her voice if she passed some kind of wicked test.
“It’s all lies, Xan,” she said. She was surprised to hear her voice so loud in the hallway. “All of it. My life, my parents …”
She shook her head, unable to go on. She could only gaze into Xan’s eyes and hope he might be able to take away her pain. She felt like a coward, but right now that’s what she wanted—someone else to carry the burden of truths she had finally begun to uncover. Being strong could only take you so far—she knew that now. Inner strength wasn’t an infinite resource, and she felt worn down and stretched way too thin. An image of her mother’s face as she lay in her hospital bed flashed into her mind, and Donna wondered if that was how she herself looked right now.
Except without the white streak, thank God.
Swallowing a hysterical laugh, Donna allowed Xan to lead her into the living room.
“I don’t want to talk, Xan,” she said, hearing her voice as though it came from somewhere very far away. It reminded her, for a horrible moment, of the bronze statue’s breathy voice. “I’m sick of talking.”
As she said the words, she knew it was true. Talking at the hearing. Talking to Navin. Talking to her aunt.
It was all just noise and she’d had enough.
“Okay.” There was no hesitation from him. “Whatever you need.”
She didn’t even want to think—especially not about how she’d gotten to Xan’s in the first place. It was like she’d been so angry with Aunt Paige, so devastated and stripped bare, that something had loosened, deep inside, and then she’d sort of … teleported. If this really had something to do with the abilities Aliette said she could tap into, she was seriously confused. What the hell did teleportation have to do with opening the door to Faerie? Nothing made sense.
Donna laid her mother’s journal carefully down on one of the many bookshelves and reached for Xan, conscious of how the flickering firelight caused her tattoos to glimmer and flash.
He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. He murmured nonsense in her ear and pressed her hard against the warmth of his body.
She waited for a moment, letting him offer much-needed comfort and basking in the intense heat that poured off him, reminding her again that he was other. If he were fully human, there was no way he would be that warm—not unless he was running a fever.
She lifted her head, knowing exactly what she was doing. She wanted to forget. Her whole being cried out for oblivion, but she’d never been someone who turned to drinking or drugs. She’d been taught too much about self-control over the years, due to the need to control her strength. Super-human strength on alcohol wasn’t a pretty prospect.
Donna was sick of control. She wanted to let go—just this once—and be truly free.
So she kissed Xan, knowing that he wouldn’t kiss her unless she made the first move. Not at a time like this; not when she was clearly devastated, even though he didn’t understand why. He was too much of a good guy to take advantage of her pain and confusion. But luckily for her, she thought with a wicked grin that seemed to come from nowhere, he wasn’t too good.
There was no hesitation from him. Xan moved warm hands to her face, his long fingers trailing fire as he explored her mouth with his.
They had only really kissed (not just the kisses for greeting or saying goodbye) once before. The night after they’d told each other their stories in Mildred’s café, they’d shared a real kiss just outside Ironbridge Common. It had been new and exciting and filled with promise. But this … this was so much more.
Donna felt something open in her chest, like a bud unfurling in the face of the sun. She felt herself slowly coming alive under Xan’s touch. Even though she still didn’t understand how she’d suddenly traveled from her house to Xan’s, or how it was linked to saving Mom, right now she didn’t care.
Then Xan pulled away, and Donna grumbled at the loss of his warmth. He held her at arm’s length, and she couldn’t help being pleased to see how much he was struggling to control his breathing.
And she could relate—the guy knew how to kiss. She tried not to think about all the other things he undoubtedly knew how to do, or all the other girls he might have done them with. He was way more experienced than she was, and she was worried that would show.
“Donna, wait, we shouldn’t—”
She cut him off by pulling free of his grip and placing the unmarked palms of her hands on either side of his face. “Shhh. I don’t want to talk. I already told you that.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She shook her head. “Kiss me again.”
Xan frowned, but she could tell he was torn. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. You’re upset …” His voice faded as she traced the fine lines of his cheekbones and stroked his caramel-colored hair back from his forehead.
“I’ll be more upset if you don’t shut up and kiss me.” Donna could hardly believe what she was saying; it was like a different person was emerging from a dark cocoon. She’d been buttoned up so tight for so long, and it was incredibly liberating to be wild.
If only for one night.
Xan pulled her hands from his face and held them tightly. His golden flesh looked darker than ever against her pale skin and silver tattoos.
Donna couldn’t help wondering if touching the iron hurt him at all—it had, once, the first time he’d touched her. But if he felt any discomfort she certainly couldn’t detect it in his face, and his grip never faltered as he pulled her hands down to his chest and then wrapped them around his back.
“Xan,” she whispered, pressing close and trying not to think about what she was doing, “make it go away, please. I don’t even want to think.”
His eyes drank her in as he stroked her tousled hair back from her hot face and examined her, as if looking for something that might be written on her skin.
Then he parted her lips gently with his, kissing her even more deeply than before.
He pulled back, and she was about to protest when she realized he’d only done it so he could lift her into his arms. He cradled her against him and carried her upstairs. It was quite a change to allow someone else to be the strong one. It felt unbelievably good, and Donna never wanted it to end.
Xan kicked open the door of his bedroom and laid her on his bed, stumbling a little and throwing a black T-shirt and a crumpled towel onto the floor. He lay down beside her, his hip pressed against hers. Her body ached and she reached for him again.
He locked eyes with her. “There’s no rush, okay?”
Donna ignored him and kissed him again, her stomach fluttering as he said her name against her mouth. Xan rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Her hair tumbled around his face, but they didn’t break lip contact and she gasped as his hands kneaded her lower back and pressed her against him.
And then he pushed her away, making her gasp, but before she could complain he gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head in one fluid movement. Everything went dark for a moment until Donna emerged from the material, her arms above her head, one hand still tangled in the shirt, her cheeks flushed. She didn’t dare meet his eyes as a wave of shyness threatened to make her want to shrink back—all her so-called wildness and bravery trembling on the brink of something she couldn’t put into words.
But it was a fleeting sensation. Xan grabbed her and flipped them again; this time he was on top, leaning his elbows on either side of her, supporting his weight as he began kissing her again. It was as if he could kiss her forever and it would be enough for him. There was a feeling of desperation in the intensity of his lips on hers, as though he was worried he might lose her if he broke contact for even a moment.
Donna thought she might explode from the heat building between them, but that didn’t stop her from pressing even harder against him.
Xan suddenly stopped his exploration of her mouth, sitting back on his heels to look at her, and she stared up at him with wide eyes. He was so beautiful; it didn’t seem fair that someone so gorgeous should have been through so much pain. She tried to push those thoughts aside—there was no place for them here, in this moment. It was like they’d entered a secret oasis away from all the horror of both their lives.
Xan’s eyes never left hers and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Donna took a shuddering breath, feeling her heart beating crazily. “What?”
He shook his head, the hint of a smile spreading into something more real. His teeth flashed in the near-darkness. “Just thinking how unbelievably beautiful you look.”
Her cheeks burned. “Stop it.”
“No, I mean it.” He grinned, quickly tugging off his own shirt and tossing it behind him.
Swallowing, Donna gazed at his chest and wondered if she was drooling. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the almost ethereal glow of his skin.
Xan trailed warm fingers across her stomach and she tried not to worry about whether her tummy was sticking out too much. Should I suck it in?
He splayed a large, warm hand across her ribs with a strangely determined expression on his face, and his fingertips brushed the edge of her bra. Of course, she thought with disgust, she just had to be wearing her oldest underwear today. It had been the first thing she’d grabbed this morning while dressing to meet the Wood Queen.
Was that really only this morning? She didn’t want to think about it—not now, with Xan.
Donna wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Just lie there? She desperately wanted to touch Xan, and yet her limbs felt impossibly heavy. She could quite easily stay there with his hands on her, unmoving and unthinking for the next few hours.
His voice was husky, “Come here.”
Donna wanted to argue: But I’m so comfy. Still, who was she to argue? She took a deep breath against the sudden trembling in the pit of her stomach and wriggled into a sitting position beneath him.
“Look at me,” Xan said.
“I am,” she replied, still gazing at his chest.
“At my face, Donna.” There was laughter in his voice, and that was all it took to break the unbearable tension she’d been feeling.
Swallowing a nervous giggle, she forced herself to meet his eyes. His pupils were huge; they’d almost swallowed the stunning green that marked him as something other than human.
“I want you so much,” he said. There was no false seduction in his voice; all she could hear was the naked vulnerability that occasionally sneaked through when he was with her. “But we should wait.”
Wait? What did he mean, wait? “But I’m ready now,” she heard herself saying, her voice almost a whisper. “Xan—”
She stopped talking as he put his hands on her waist and shifted them both so that she was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips. If this was his idea of cooling things off, she needed to have a serious talk with him.
“This isn’t right,” he continued, earnestly. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, not when you’re so upset. It’s not the way I imagined it.”
Fighting the slowly rising tide of disappointment and trying to focus on the positive, Donna touched his cheek. “You’ve imagined this?”
He laughed, golden cheeks flushing. “Of course I have. Shit, Donna. I may be a gentleman, but when it comes down to it, I’m still just a guy.”
Warm laughter bubbled inside her chest, and the feeling of joy was so unfamiliar—so shocking—that for a moment Donna didn’t even recognize it. She blinked back tears and threw her arms around him, squeezing Xan as tight as she dared and wishing that she could just stay here with him and never leave. She didn’t want to think about the alchemists and the demons, or the Wood Queen, or even her mother. Not right now. Everybody she knew except Navin played games with her, made life-changing decisions for her, and it made her sick. It seemed as though all the people in her life spent their time manoeuvring various pieces around a giant chess board (like the games of alchemical chess that she’d watched Quentin and Simon playing, back when she was a child), and she herself was one of those pieces—nothing more than a bargaining chip or an expendable infantryman sent kicking and screaming to die for a cause she didn’t even believe in.
Donna looked into Xan’s eyes and saw her determined reflection gazing back. No, she wouldn’t be the Order’s weapon. Not for anything—or anyone. Her mother’s fears for her would not be realized. She was a person, not a thing, and only she had the right to decide how she would live her life.
Feeling the comfort of certainty slip into place, Donna took a deep breath and pressed her lips against Xan’s. Here was something else she had the right to decide—who she wanted to be with, and when she was ready to take that step. She might only have known Xan for a few weeks, but she wanted to enjoy the fleeting moments of safety while she could.
Alexander Grayson might be many things, but he had never pushed her around or forced her to do anything that made her miserable. Sure, he had the whole otherworldly-guy-with-a-past thing down pretty well, but “mystery” did not automatically equal “dishonesty.”
As that thought crossed her mind, Xan pulled away for a moment and smiled at her, understanding smoothing away the worried expression he’d been wearing ever since telling her that they should wait. Maybe he felt the shift in her, from emotional-wreck-seeking-comfort to someone who actually knew what she was doing and was making a choice based on love.
Love? Donna caught her breath as Xan gently pushed her back down against the pillows and stroked her face with fingertips that made her tingle all over. Did she love him? It wasn’t as though he’d professed true love to h
er, although she knew he cared. Could she really feel something like that so soon?
She didn’t know, but whatever this was—whatever this might one day be—the delicious sensations racing through her body, reminding her that she was alive, left her in no doubt that it was absolutely right.
But as Xan leaned down to kiss her again, that sense of rightness suddenly transformed into a gut-wrenching pain.
She doubled over gasping, holding her arms around herself as though she might be able to hold the pain still, keep it quiet so that it couldn’t do any damage. It felt alive inside her. Donna didn’t know how she knew that for sure, but the thought arose, unbidden, with cool certainty.
Xan’s eyes were filled with shock and concern. “What’s happening? Did I hurt you?” He grabbed her shoulders, frantic. “Is it me?”
You? she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. How could it be anything to do with him?
She remembered that he didn’t know about what had happened to her tonight, about the power that had brought her to his door when she’d simply thought of the place she’d most wanted to be. Maybe he thought she was having some kind of freaky reaction to making out with a half-fey guy, but she couldn’t reassure him because there was no breath left in her body.
There was only light.
It was a different sort of light than the warm glow that had filled Xan at her mother’s bedside. It was the same light she’d experienced in Aunt Paige’s study—her tattoos became flashing silver beacons and moved across her arms so fast that her fingers went numb.
Xan was kneeling on the bed in front of her, clearly unsure whether or not he should touch her again. “Donna, your eyes!”
She reached out to him, half-blinding them both with the radiance from her hands. “It’s okay—”
She didn’t get to finish; she couldn’t reassure him before she left him. There was no time. She barely had the presence of mind to grab Xan’s discarded shirt before the power took her.