“That’s probably a good plan. Need anything?”
“I’m good. Go enjoy being married.”
“Don’t you just know it.” Poppy’s breathy sigh was one of dreamy joy.
I couldn’t be happier for her.
“I love you, Pop.”
“I love you too, Snow. Don’t forget it.”
“Not likely.”
The mirror faded out, and it was just me in my candy cottage with my thoughts.
Maybe I’d lied about giving Grendal space.
To Poppy.
And to myself.
I didn’t want to leave him alone. I didn’t want to give him space. I wanted him, and I wanted him now.
I think part of me was afraid if I left it alone, whatever had bloomed between us would die a lonely death and it would never have a chance to breathe. To do anything but wither to the dust of a memory.
The idea of that broke my heart.
I fortified myself, prepared for his rejection. Because really, if he’d wanted more from me there in the garden, it was pretty obvious he could have had it. But I had to know.
If this wasn’t going to live, this thing, it needed to be strangled before it could consume me.
So, I walked the short distance to his door and, against better judgement, knocked.
He opened the door.
“Did you forget something?”
“I didn’t forget. I just didn’t have enough balls.”
“Oh really?” A perfect black brow arched. “You don’t seem to be lacking sac.”
“No? Well, I was.”
“Go on.”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
“Are you sure you want to come in? This is the lair of the beast, my dear.”
“Maybe I’m not a beauty. Maybe I’m a beast.”
“Doubtful, but we’ll see. Do come in.” He held the door wide.
I stepped inside. The only trepidation I felt had nothing to do with being inside the lair of an evil warlock and everything to do with wondering if he’d put those hands on me again. If he’d kiss me again.
If I’d get under those black robes.
He was suddenly very much in my space. His presence sucked the air out of the room, or maybe that was just my desire. He pressed me against the wall, and a thrill shot through me.
“Is this what you came for?”
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Are you not afraid?”
“Of what? Are you going to hurt me?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Then what do I have to fear?”
“Love.” He said the word as if it were something dirty and foul.
“That’s nothing to fear.”
“No? Can’t you imagine the agony if you love me? Not that I believe I’m all that loveable, but I can’t love you back.”
“I don’t care. This. Right now. It’s enough.”
“No, goddessdamn it, it’s not. It’s not enough. I want to feel it. I’m tired of being cold inside.”
This was the most passion I’d seen from him. The most emotion.
“I thought you didn’t want to break your curse.”
“It’s easier to live with if I don’t have hope, but you gave me hope, and it burns like poison.”
“Don’t you think I feel the same thing? The same hope. The same poison. Don’t you want to burn with me? Even if we don’t break our curses, we could at least be really good friends who have amazing sex.”
“You can’t think that’s enough.”
“But it is. Considering what I had before? Goddess, Grendal. I feel like if you don’t touch me, I might die. And if you do, I’ll still die. I’ll burn up to ash, and I want that. Don’t you?”
“I do, Snow.”
“Then kiss me again.”
“I am thinking, perhaps, that you are not the fly come into the spider’s lair, but another spider.”
“A black widow,” I replied breathlessly.
“Then make me your prey,” he said.
It was me who closed the distance between us. Me who pressed my lips to his cold ones.
I loved the chill in his touch, but something happened when I kissed him. Something magical.
The cold began to burn. Almost as if the chill had gone arctic, but then ignited to a real flame.
“I think you broke my curse,” he whispered against my lips.
And I pulled away. “If you’re not cursed, you shouldn’t touch me.”
“Because I’ll die? Remember what you just said to me? That you’ll die if I didn’t touch you? I feel the same.”
“I’m scared.”
“I was, too. But I’m not anymore. Nothing could be more right than our lips touching.”
I closed my eyes, afraid of the inevitable. Afraid of hurting him. Of losing what I’d just found.
But when his lips crashed into mine, all I felt was fire. He kissed me harder, deeper, his fingers twining into my hair and pulling me closer.
“All I want is you.”
And maybe that was it. He wasn’t trying to break my curse. He wasn’t trying to win my hand just so he could have a princess. He just wanted me, for me.
I didn’t feel any great change fall over me. No burst of magic as my curse was broken.
Only passion for the warlock that held me.
And that was somehow better.
He wanted me just for me.
That was the miracle, not any kind of curse-breaking.
I knew in that moment that this was my happily ever after.
And, further, when we were naked together on the bearskin run in front of the fire, and he dipped his head between my thighs, he was definitely the exception to the rule about warlocks being bad in bed.
Other Authors in Magic and Mayhem
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Snow Blight Page 4