Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

17HENRY

Bryce sprints into the forest immediately, but I wait until Stefan has disappeared into the trees so I can be sure he stays in front of me.

Once I’m beneath the dark canopy, I’m instantly distracted. The hunt grounds aren’t endless. They only go about three miles before they run into the granite face of the mountain wall. Some prey run the whole time, but experienced players like Miriam go to the same area every time.

I pick up her scent immediately beneath the pine overtones of the forest.

Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of white nightgown punctures the dark. I take off toward her, closing the distance between us in a few quick bounds, and step her into my arms.

She squeals as I shove her back against the nearest tree and kiss her. She bites my lower lip, her hands tugging at my hair to pull me closer.

Miriam smells so good, and there’s a new, illicit feeling to this, like I’m doing something more forbidden now that I have a fiancée. The more I feel my old life being swept out from under me, the more eager I am to enjoy every last moment of it.

I kiss Miriam desperately, trying to chase away the ghost of kissing Harlow that still lurks at the edges of my thoughts.

Lifting Miriam, I press her back against a thick tree trunk. She wraps her legs around my waist.

“Please, Henry.” Her plea sounds as desperate as I feel.

Her thighs are soft and warm under my hands. She presses her breasts into me, and I close my eyes. But my mind immediately flashes to Harlow in the boarding house, arching against me, kissing me with a fierce hunger.

Divine dammit! I need to replace that vision with something else.

I skim my lips down Miriam’s neck, and she shivers.

A twig breaks behind me and I freeze with my lips pressed to Miriam’s pounding pulse. She opens her mouth to speak, but I press a finger to her lips.

Another crunch of leaves breaks the stillness, and then a breeze sweeps from behind me, carrying the familiar, soft floral scent of Stellarium Blossoms.

Harlow. I hate that I know her by scent alone.

“Yes, wife? Did you need something?” I call over my shoulder. “Or do you like to watch?”

I can practically feel the irritation wafting off her.

I slowly release Miriam. She looks bereft, blinking up at me with startled doe eyes.

“Sorry, Miriam. It seems my wife-to-be doesn’t approve. Run along.” I smack her backside and she rushes away with an irritated glance over her shoulder.

Once the sounds of her retreat have faded, I turn. Harlow stands ten feet away, leaning against a thick tree trunk.

“Lovely, it’s not what you think. That’s my friend Miriam.”

“I have friends, too,” she says. “It’s not a big deal.”

I don’t like the jealousy that uncoils in my stomach when I think about how true that is. How many people have probably sat with her in dark corners of the bar, thinking they were going to get to fuck her only to wind up dead. I also think about the pretty bartender who smiled at her so tenderly, and for one insane, irrational moment, I hate everyone who has ever touched her.

I force the feeling away and turn on her. “You’re jealous.”

Her head snaps toward me. “Only of how delusional you are. I wouldn’t mind being out of touch with reality about now.” She waves her hand in the direction Miriam disappeared. “You didn’t need to stop on my account. It looked like you were just getting to the good part.”

“If you think that was the good part, you have an awful lot to learn. Don’t worry. I’m a very willing teacher.”

She tilts her chin up in challenge. “So am I.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t be in these woods on a feast night hunt.” I start to circle her, slowly moving closer. She stays put, trying to look apathetic. But her heart pounds and all I read on her now is excitement.

I come up behind her and lean closer. “Want to play, Harlow? I’ll give you a head start.”

She tugs at her dark cloak. “Didn’t you want me not to run from you? Besides, I’m afraid I’m not properly dressed for the occasion.”

I continue to round on her and the cloak gapes open, offering me a view of her nightdress. Divine damn me—the material clings to her curves, and her nipples press against the thin silk.

“I don’t know. I think you’d manage okay,” I say.

A sly smile spreads over her face, and suddenly it’s not so clear which of us is the hunter and which is the prey.

I shake my head. That won’t do.

“You clearly came out here to snoop and I warned you not to come out here alone on a hunt night,” I say. “You could have received a very brutal welcome to our customs, all because you could not be bothered to listen to me.”

“You’re my fiancé, not my warden.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I grab her wrist and drag her into the forest. I can hear someone nearby already getting started, so I pull her down the narrow trail. We round a large rocky summit and start down the incline. When we reach the bottom, a soft whimper from the hollow of the rock overhang tells me we’re in the right place.

I know this place. It’s a small shrine to Kennymyra that was often visited during feasts before the fall.

Now it’s in ruins.

I squint into the dark to see a broad back covered in a familiar tattoo. It’s Bryce.

“Wha—”

I clap my hand over Harlow’s mouth and step behind her, pressing her back into my chest.

Bryce clicks his tongue, looking down at the blonde woman. “Naughty girl. I told you to hold still.”

He turns the woman around and bends her over the stone railing, yanks up her dress, and slaps her bare ass.

Harlow winces, but she doesn’t make a sound. My hand slides down to her neck, fingers resting above her thundering pulse.

Her gaze is riveted on Bryce as he pulls off his belt, folds it in half, and cracks it.

“Anything to say?” Bryce asks the woman.

He’s checking to be certain she’s still on board.

“No,” she rasps.

Between one breath and the next, he brings it down on the woman’s backside, and she yelps.

Bryce waits, belt raised. He’s experienced. He’s waiting for her to get over the initial shock to see if she’s going to say it was too much.

“More.”

The word is breathless, and it’s all the permission Bryce needs. He brings the belt down three times in quick succession. He gives the woman no time to recover before he wrenches her wrists behind her back and secures them with his belt. Then he drops to his knees and buries his face between her legs.

The woman moans loudly.

Harlow presses her back into me harder. Even in the half-light I can see her lips are parted in shock, her pupils dilated. Fuck me, she smells so good—like Stellarium Blossoms and nighttime in the forest.

My cock is stirring to life in the hope that the fun that was cut short earlier might be continued now.

The woman’s moaning swells until she goes rigid, her mouth open in a silent scream. Finally, she settles, and Bryce stands, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He grabs her long hair, wrapping it around his fist, guiding her up to stand on trembling legs. He turns her to face him.

“Kneel.”

Harlow’s jaw drops as the woman rushes to kneel and opens her mouth. Bryce doesn’t hesitate to free his cock from his pants and shove it into her mouth until she gags. He holds it there, grinning down at her watery eyes.

Harlow stares at them, open-mouthed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I wrap my arm around her waist, rest my palm to the thin silk covering her stomach, and press her against me so she can feel how hard I am.

Her head tips back, her gaze snapping to mine.

“Do you want that?” I whisper.

She frowns, but her gaze slides back to Bryce, who is now feeding his cock down the woman’s throat at a steady pace, using a fistful of her hair to guide her. She chokes and gags, struggling to take him.

I lean closer to Harlow so I can whisper directly into the shell of her ear. “He likes using her, and she’s out here because she wants to be used.”

My thumb brushes gently back and forth over Harlow’s stomach, and she shivers, pressing her ass back into my cock.

“Need something, lovely?” I tease.

I wish she weren’t such a talented liar. It’s impossible to tell if she truly wants it.

Bryce stops abruptly, ripping the woman’s head to the side, turning her. He kneels behind her and nudges her knees wider. He reaches around her body and rips her dress down the front, playing with her breasts. His gaze locks on us and he winks at Harlow.

Harlow tears herself free from my grip and turns back down the path we came from. A night-splitting scream of pleasure erupts from somewhere behind me. I ignore it. Hunt night is full of those sounds.

I trail behind Harlow, aware of several sets of eyes that have been on us the whole time. Everyone wants to know how my new wife will react to the wild nature of Mountain Havenians.

She stalks back toward the house with impressive efficiency. I can’t believe how well she’s oriented herself.

I follow close behind her like a wraith. I wait until we’re out of the woods, through the ceremony circle where musicians still play, and into the courtyard of the house before I speak.

“You were supposed to stay in your room.”

She ignores me as she reaches for the manor door handle. I press my hand against the dark wood so she can’t pull it open.

“That was dangerous,” I whisper.

She turns on me and juts her chin, somehow managing to make it feel like she’s looking down on me. “I am not some docile wife to be kept locked away in your creepy tower. I will know the customs and ceremonies of this place, and I don’t need your permission.”

“Your pride is boring. It will get you killed or worse.”

“Then at least it will save you the trouble,” she counters.

I take a step back. Did she overhear someone she shouldn’t have, or does she just have her own suspicions about what my family wants? I wouldn’t be surprised if she overheard people grumbling about her presence around the fort, but I don’t need to make it any harder for her to trust me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re forgetting to hate me. Like you’re concerned.”

Her words spear me. I’m forgetting myself because I’m tense. Because I’m tired and hungry and trying to wrangle this woman is already a bigger task than I anticipated. Why couldn’t she have been a pretty, coddled moron?

“Don’t you have a bodyguard who should be keeping you from doing things like wandering into the woods alone at night?” I ask.

She shrugs a shoulder.

I glance up at the house. I’m going to have a word with Gaven. How is it that she ducked him so easily in the city to go on her murder sprees and here to go to a feast night?

Unless he’s snooping and she’s just a diversion. I hadn’t considered it before—so busy worrying my wife-to-be will be the one burying a knife in my back—but now I see that the two of them are a team.

“Do you need an escort or can you be trusted to make it back to your room alone?”

Her eyes flash with mischief. “Only one way to find out.”

She chops her hand at my elbow, releasing my weight from the door, and ducks inside before I can scold her. The door slams closed behind her, and I turn to head back to the hunt, trying to ignore the scent of her perfume on my clothes.

OceanofPDF.com

18HARLOW

I’m not sure what possessed me to sneak out to see the hunt last night. Perhaps it is madness that made me think following a stranger into a dark forest during some sort of sex game was a good idea. But it’s not madness alone. It’s also seeing the annoyance on Henry’s face when he realized I won’t be so easily contained.

I had an idea of what it would be like here, but none of the stories I heard as a teenager could have prepared me for watching Henry’s friend with that woman.

It was reckless to wander. I could have just as easily been scooped up by someone other than Henry. I need to stop treating this place like I know the dangers the way I do at home in Lunameade. There’s a whole new set of rules I need to familiarize myself with so that I know how to skirt them without getting myself killed.

The Havenwood House library seems the obvious place to start. I should be looking for secret tunnels or hidden books, but instead, I’m searching for a book on marriage rituals because no one has told me a thing about what to expect.

This morning, I woke to two women knocking on my bedroom door. They rudely barged in despite Gaven’s protests and proceeded to fit me for my wedding gown and ritual clothing.

I wasn’t exactly expecting privacy here, but I also wasn’t expecting two strangers to ask me what position I’ll be consummating my marriage in so that they could create undergarments that would best put my assets on display.

The only highlight was seeing the stunned look on Gaven’s face over the top of the changing screen. It’s almost impossible to shock him, but I’ve never seen him hustle out of a room so fast.

Now he’s posted outside the library doors after sweeping the entire room like a secret army might be waiting to murder me in the history section.

I understand the vigilance, but I hardly think the two of us are prepared to stop the full force of the fort. If they want to kill me, they will likely succeed. Still, I appreciate that Gaven will go down swinging.

The library is bigger than I expected. People in Lunameade believe Mountain Haven is full of wild folks who don’t care for scholarly studies, but this room must span the entire length of the house. Light pours in the large windows, illuminating dust motes that swirl around leather-bound volumes of every color and size.

A large map of the fort adorns the wall by the entrance. There are six levels, with Havenwood House situated at the top of the fort, the last strategic stronghold if the Drained were to attack. The map is more decorative than functional, and while seeing the gates between levels is helpful, it offers little detail that I didn’t see with my own eyes yesterday. Riding into the fort, I noticed some of the nuances of each level, like how most of the gardens and farmlands seem to be on the first level, but I need to ask Henry if there’s a hierarchy to who lives where. I wonder if the poorest and least magical in their community live on the first level, the way that the poor and unblessed live on the outermost rim of Lunameade.

I walk down the narrow aisle, running my fingers over the spines. None of the titles mention rituals or weddings. When I reach the end of the row, I notice a small alcove cut into the wall that’s sectioned off from the rest of the room by an iron-barred door. I peek through the iron slats, scanning the books inside until one catches my eye. The entire shelf contains titles related to divine rituals of Mountain Haven. Some of the books look ancient, their leather worn and cracked.

I try the handle on the door, but it’s locked. When I was young, Kellan and I made a game of picking locks to all non-magically locked doors in Carrenwell House. That skill has come in handy with my double life as the Poison Vixen more than once, but when I’m working, I typically have more professional tools to use. Now I only have the pins in my hair, and while they could probably hold up to picking this kind of lock, the last thing I need is for one of them to break and leave evidence of my snooping.

Instead, I try to squeeze my wrist through the opening in the slats. It’s a tight scrape, but my hand pops through right beside the handle. I’m just barely able to reach the lock, my fingers skimming it enough to twist it. I try the handle again and the door creaks open.

Wrenching my hand free, I take one quick glance over my shoulder, then dart inside and pull one of the newer-looking tomes from the shelf. I duck out of the space and close the door behind me. My heart kicks up, a pulsing rhythm that drowns out my footsteps as I walk to the end of the row and place the book on a table tucked into the stacks.

The title is etched in fancy red lettering. I trace the words: Mountain Haven Marriage Rituals. The leather creaks as I open the book and flip through the handwritten pages. There are sigils for the Divine, elaborate drawings of where the couple and their family members should stand during the ceremony, and lists of offerings that should be made to the Divine for a long and prosperous marriage.

According to this, Mountain Haven’s marriage rituals consist of three parts: Vows, Communion, and Consummation.

I page through the book until I reach a section on the consummation ritual. My pulse kicks up as I flip through page after page of diagrams depicting all manner of sex positions. There are notes on which couples bonded their marriage in which styles, including the names and dates of their coupling.

Shuddering, I turn a bunch of pages at once and pause on the image of a woman with her hands fastened to opposite posts in a canopy bed. Her legs are also spread wide and attached to posts at the bottom of the bed. The elegant script at the top of the page reads: Rituals of Submission.

Apparently, there are different versions of each part of the ceremony, but these people have another thing coming if they believe I’m going to submit to that smug asshole.

It’s less the thought of having sex in front of other people that unnerves me than the fear that I might enjoy fucking Henry. Warmth rushes through my blood at the thought of his rough hands on my thighs and the way he bit the skin above my stockings like he knew exactly what I wanted.

The last thing I need is to harbor even the smallest bit of affection for him. This is just a job—one that I need to end soon so that I can return to Lunameade and help Aidia. The sooner I convince him that I’m vulnerable, the sooner I can figure out what he and his family want.

“If you want to know about our traditions, you only need to ask. You’re the only one that expects yourself to be all-knowing.”

Henry’s voice startles me from my thoughts.

He’s right behind me. I was so focused, I didn’t even hear him enter the library.

I continue to page through the book, ignoring him as I scan more illustrations in various positions.

“Isn’t this from the locked section of the library?” Henry asks.

I shrug a shoulder. “The flimsy lock made it feel more like a suggestion. But if you’d like to tell me what I need to know about the ceremony, I won’t have to resort to petty crimes. I’m eager to be a dutiful wife and I wouldn’t want to offend the Divine by not honoring your customs.”

He chuckles low. “Yes, you certainly seem devout.”

I swirl my fingers in front of my lips. “I honor the Divine by using the blessings they’ve bestowed on me, or at least I did until you interrupted me.”

He arches a brow, then flips back to the front of the book and taps the page. “First, we’ll exchange vows in our Vardek Temple. He’s the patron of our house since my father and my sister were both blessed with his gifts. The ceremony is much the same as a Lunameade wedding, from what I understand, though with less pandering to the ruling family.”

He rubs his stubble. I noticed it the first night we met in the bar—he does that when he’s unsure how I’ll react.

“And then we will have a wedding feast, music, fine wine, and cake. Not like the stuffy affairs you’re used to,” Henry continues. “People actually dance and enjoy themselves. We take the pursuit of all pleasures very seriously.”

I wish he would get to the point. It’s the next two parts that I’m most apprehensive about.

“Then we will have time to be in communion with each other.”

“What does that mean, though?” I ask.

He smiles wickedly. “It means that we have to be spiritually and emotionally intimate before we are physically intimate. You’ll sit with me under a veil and we’ll have to exchange secrets.”

I scoff. “No, thank you.”

“It’s not optional.”

I wave a dismissive hand. “And then?”

He purses his lips. “And then we’ll be taken to the chamber in the back of the temple, where we will consummate our marriage in front of witnesses.”

This entire conversation is unsettling. Not because I’m uncomfortable with my body, but because I don’t like that he has more experience—that he’s witnessed this while I’ll be going in blind. Being on my heels is disorienting enough. I don’t like that he knows more than me.

“So I’ll have to—” He clears his throat.

“Fuck me?” I finish. “If you can’t even say it, I’m not sure how you expect to do it.”

His eyes narrow. “This isn’t a game, lovely. I’ll need to fuck you like I’m claiming you. I need to make you come. Everyone will need to believe that you’re mine or there could be challenges.”

“Challenges?”

“I told you before, out here strength is prized above all,” he says, tapping a finger on the book. “Only the strongest of us survived the attack ten years ago. Only the strongest of us survive the culling to become guards, and if you don’t regularly prove you’re stronger than the rest, they will come for you, to take what’s yours for the good of our people. You are a powerful ally. Others will try to sway you. It would be foolish of them not to when they have such an obvious opportunity to attack my relationship when it’s at its weakest.”

I smile. “Is that what this is? A relationship? And here I thought it was more of a hostage situation.”

He frowns, his shoulders going tense. “Harlow, this is serious. I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I don’t trust you, either, but this is the truth: I cannot protect you from them if you don’t let me. We have different rules here—different customs.”

“And those customs don’t require consent?”

He throws his hands up. “The consent is a precursor to participation⁠—”

“So anyone can do anything they want⁠—”

“That’s not what I said,” he snaps. “We have customs, like hunt night, that are inherent to keeping wildness in our culture—where hunters can hunt and capture their prey and fuck them into submission. No one is ever forced to play and hunters need to go through a full training ahead of time to ensure they understand how to do so safely. But once they are out in those woods, anything goes. It’s why it’s an optional event.”

“That—” I shake my head, my mind whirling with the image of Bryce fucking that woman.

“It’s triumph and surrender. You wouldn’t understand.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m telling you all of this because everyone here already knows the rules and you don’t, and if you don’t learn them fast—if you keep fighting me every step of the way—I won’t be able to ensure your safety. The last thing I want is a war with your family.”

I could at the very least count on that last part being true. There’s no way he wants an outright war with the Carrenwells. It would be too messy, and my family’s magic—and that of those we shared the well with—would easily overwhelm even the well-trained killers within these fort walls. But I still can’t rule out the possibility that he wants a quieter, sneakier war with us. He could be working with the rebellion. For all I know, he could be Rochelli and the whole attack at our engagement dinner was a clever diversion.

“I know it goes against everything in you to listen to me, or anyone else for that matter, but there are things you cannot do here. Do not flirt with others. It makes me look weak, and that makes you vulnerable.”

I scoff. “So, I can’t so much as flirt with someone else, but you’re allowed to fuck some other woman on hunt night?”

Henry arches a brow. “I didn’t think you would care if I fucked someone else, lovely. Now that I realize you’re jealous⁠—”

“I’m not jealous!”

His lips twitch. “Now that I realize you are determined to have me to yourself, I promise my eternal fidelity.”

I clench my teeth. I imagine how satisfying it would be to press my fingers into the soft notch at the bottom of his throat just to make him gag. “I meant that I don’t need or want your protection. I can take care of myself.”

He shakes his head. “In Lunameade, I have no doubt, but the quickest way to get hurt in Mountain Haven is to believe that you don’t need anyone else. Do not flirt with others. Do not wander far alone. And never, under any circumstances, run from me.”

I want to push. Maybe it’s a lifetime of restriction and the freedom of finally being away from my family, but I want to stretch the limits—rattle the bars of my cage and see what he does when I do.

“What happens if I run?”

Something menacing flashes in his eyes. “I’ll catch you.”

My mouth goes dry, but I refuse to break our eye contact.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Can we just have a truce? Can we be allies? We don’t have to be anything else. I know you don’t trust me in general. I know you didn’t plan on getting married again and I am just an obstacle in your path, but can you at least trust that it’s in my best interest to keep you alive?”

I cross my arms.

He licks his lips. “Why are you being extra prickly about this? It seems like you could use a good fuck.”

I scoff. “Doubtful I’ll find one here.”

He closes the distance between us and pushes me back against the wall, his hand resting against my neck. His dark blue eyes burn into me like he can see right through me and knows why I’m uncomfortable.

“No, that’s not it.” He lets out a low laugh. “You almost let me fuck you the night we met. This is something else. Tell me.”

I look away, searching for anything to focus on but the intensity of his gaze. I hate this. I hate that I have to let him see this. I don’t want to lose the upper hand.

His thumb strokes my jaw. “Allies, Harlow?”

I have to give him something. I’ve pushed enough that he’ll feel like I’m compromising.

“Allies.” I swallow down my dignity and blurt out the truth. “I’ve never had an orgasm with someone else.”

He smirks until he sees that I’m not messing with him. “How is that possible? You don’t seem like the type to settle for someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Is it an emotional thing—like, you need to be in love?”

I scoff, brushing his hand away and crossing the room to stare out the window instead of meeting his gaze. I can’t look at him for this.

“Love has nothing to do with it.” I sigh and drop my head back. “It’s impossible to relax when I’m with someone because no matter how much they remind themselves that they can’t kiss me, it’s a reflex of affection for other people. I have never been able to lose myself enough with someone else to get over the edge because I was too worried about keeping them alive.”

When I turn, he still looks wide-eyed. “So you’ve never⁠—”

I blow out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I know how to get myself off. I’ve done it in front of other people, just never had someone else doing it for me.”

The recognition dawns on him, and I feel too exposed. “You can’t control your poison?”

I brush my fingers over my lips. “Not here. Every person I’ve ever kissed on the mouth has died.”

He stares at me, slack-jawed, and the admission is almost worth seeing him look so stupefied.

Then his mouth tilts into a smirk, and I hate him. “So I was your first real kiss?”

It would be so satisfying to slap that smile off his face. “You hardly seem the sentimental type.”

He shifts and plays with the stitching on the book cover. “So you can’t control it in your lips, but you can with any other touch. You can summon it or banish it at will from your hands like you did with my wine at our engagement dinner.”

I chew my lip. It makes me nervous that he knows this secret. Not even my parents know, though that’s mostly out of spite. Aidia doesn’t even know because I didn’t want to give her something she had to hide from them.

In my early days as the Poison Vixen, I did have to kiss my victims. The magic in my hands was untested. It’s hard to practice without victims to practice on, and it was easier to kiss them. I learned about new poisonous plants and their effects, the speed with which they could kill a victim, and how painful the death was. There had never been such an opportunity for creativity.

Over time, I became more comfortable using my hands first and my lips as a backup. I also got to experiment with using different types of poison.

That secret created a near-constant conflict when I was with Bea. She hated that I was kissing strangers, even if it was to kill them. I liked that it made her jealous—liked that I could get a reaction out of someone so steady.

It was the one secret that was just for me. Until now.

I hope it wasn’t a mistake to surrender this so quickly.

“Keep that to yourself,” I say. “I prefer to be underestimated. You learn a lot from people by how they treat someone they think is weaker.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I believe him for now, though I expect the moment it makes sense for him to share it with someone else, he will. I cannot count on him to be more than a temporary friend because I have precious little hope to start with. I have the slimmest opportunity to save Aidia and very little time to do it. I need something valuable to bring back to my parents so I can get the key to the tunnel and get her away from Rafe before she breaks for good.

I turn my back to Henry and flip through the book again until I come across an illustration that depicts a woman whose limbs are tied to the four posts of the bed. “So, is it like this? Will I be restrained?”

Suddenly, he’s behind me, his body pressed to my backside. My heart kicks into a faster rhythm as his fingers skim my hip.

“Would you like to be?” His voice is different—low and gruff in a way that twists my stomach in knots.

“No, I don’t think I would.”

He chuckles, his breath ruffling my hair. “No, I don’t think so either. You like to think you’re in charge.”

“I am.”

He runs his fingers up my waist, then higher, sliding his palm to my stomach and pressing my body back against him. “Let’s test that theory.” He presses a soft kiss behind my ear.

“What are you⁠—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re going to have to get used to me touching you—make them believe that you enjoy it.”

“It’s a good thing I’m an exceptional actress,” I say, but my voice is too breathy to be believable.

“We’ll have our wedding ceremony and party, just like I imagine you do in Lunameade.” He kisses my neck, and it’s so nice not to worry he will accidentally kill himself by brushing his lips to mine.