Love Me, Love Me Not
Page 17
I heard Aisha sigh. “They always fight it.”
My aunts were singing again, but it wasn’t soothing. I didn’t realize until later that they were controlling the winds to help me. I was still trapped in between Ana and the swan. I flapped with such alarm that I rose a few inches into the air. It was thrilling and just distracting enough that I let go and lifted higher. My neck stretched out impossibly long and impossibly straight, turning me into a feathered arrow. Sarafina was on my right and Aisha dove into flight on my left. They kept me steady, nudging under my belly when I dipped too fast.
The world was a beautiful dizzying spin of shadows and moonlight and a pull in my center that I knew would always keep me on course. Pierce was right. It was both biology and magic. Just like me.
Liv and I owed each other so much money that first week that I seriously considered getting an after school job.
But we tried.
And if we could do it, our families could do it.
The Renards were embarrassed that Henry had taken part, that they had blamed us when he was attacking them for his own revenge. The Vila were ashamed that Aunt Felicity had betrayed us, hiding Henry and Pritchard and the barn from us all—just to get her cloak back. Henry had been the one to steal it in the first place, but she didn’t care. She had her wings now and she lived in her totem shape. She never came back to Cygnet House. Rosalita went through her laptop and found receipts for seven blenders, three basinets, and eighteen lace tablecloths, as well as emails from Pritchard.
My dad and the other fathers had managed to put out the fire before it ate too much of the house. The front windows were a mess and the porch was gone, as well as the front sitting room, but other than that the damage was mostly cosmetic.
Jackson didn’t remember his part in all of this. He barely remembered anything after the age of twelve. He was nicer, but the arrows had taken their toll. Pierce’s grandmother took Jackson to the doctor and after many tests they decided he’d had such a bad bout of flu that it had damaged him. He didn’t recognize Rosalita anymore. Or me.
I didn’t know how long I flew in circles around the fields; I just knew I didn’t want it to end. Not until I saw the gleam of the pond and the glitter of the tokens hanging in our wish tree.
And Pierce.
He waited for me on the edge of the water, staring up into the sky. He’d always waited for me.
I flew over him once, just because I could. He smiled up at me as I navigated the currents, landing with a less than graceful splash. I stretched and shifted, feathers into flesh, swan into girl. I hesitated, pushing wet hair off my face. What if Pierce was weirded out? It was one thing to know about swans, another to see your girlfriend turn in and out of one. What if he was grossed out now? What if—?
Also, I was naked.
Well, I was wearing water. Same thing.
He was already striding through the waves I’d churned up as I reached for my wet cloak. He dragged me close and covered my mouth with his, tasting me, breathing me, until I hated any tiny space that came between us. His fingers brushed the back of my neck as our tongues tangled. Air was unnecessary; there was only Pierce. I might possibly die, but I’d die happy. He nibbled at my earlobe until I squirmed, breath catching. Laughing softly, he tugged gently with his teeth. A hot thrill went through me.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I returned, tracing the line of skin above his jeans. We were suddenly in the very best kind of competition. I wanted to see his eyes flare, wanted him to hear my sharp gasp when he dragged his tongue along the line of my throat. We were entering dangerous and delicious territory. I pulled back slightly.
His wet shirt molded to his muscles. My feather cloak trailed behind me in the pond. He touched the tiny frown between my eyes. “Why so worried?”
“I’m a swan now.”
“And?” He nibbled on the side of my jaw until my bones went soft.
“And…I don’t know.” It was hard to make sense when he was kissing me like that.
“Are you still Ana?” His tongue stroked into my mouth, teasing.
“Of course.” The kiss went from languid to fiery again.
“That’s all I care about.” He pulled me up against his chest when the water tried to slide between us. “That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”
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Acknowledgments
Thank yous and chocolate kisses to everyone who helped make this book better: editors extraordinaire Stacy and Lydia, and the copyeditors (who share my pet peeve of repetition!) and cover artists and publicists behind the scenes at Entangled who I’ve never met but adore. And my agent Marlene Stringer, who I’ve never technically met in person either, but also adore.
About the Author
Alyxandra Harvey lives in an old stone house in Ontario, Canada with her husband, their dogs, and a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She likes gingerbread lattes, tattoos, and books.
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