Finale (Caraval 3)

These words did not taste sweet at all. They latched on to her tongue like barbs. Biting and sharp and utterly unholy. The leather couch, the empty fireplace, the cluttered desk all disappeared.

Tella tried not to scream or crumble against Jacks as invisible cords of magic lashed around their clasped hands; it felt like threads of flames and burning dreams. Then the fire was spreading, searing her arms, scorching her chest, and branding her flesh as raw magic infected her veins.

“Don’t let go,” Jacks commanded. His other hand was now clutching her unwounded palm. But Tella could barely feel it. She was back in the cavern, on the rocky floor, watching her mother walk away from her. Then Gavriel was there, and this time there was no spinning wheel between them. Tella was seeing the Fallen Star pull the dagger from his chest, thrust it into her mother’s heart, and twist until—

“Look at me,” Jacks hissed through his teeth.

Tella opened her eyes.

Jacks’s forehead was damp with sweat and his chest moved unevenly as his ragged breathing matched hers. He wasn’t just removing her pain, he was taking it. Bloody tears streaked his cheeks and agony turned his eyes pale.

Tella clutched his hands tighter and pressed her forehead to his.

“Is this transaction too intense for you,” Jacks panted, “or are you actually worried about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t lie to me—I feel everything you’re feeling right now.” His lips moved so close to her mouth she could taste his bloody tears dripping down the edges. They were bitter, full of loss and grief, but also cool and pure like ice. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it didn’t hurt so much when she brushed her lips against his.

Maybe she should have let him kiss her … maybe it wouldn’t hurt her this time.

“I promise it won’t hurt this time,” he rasped against her mouth.

Tella let her lips pass over his again. He was a liar and a Fate. But when she pressed her mouth to his, it felt better than anything else had that day.

Her pain shattered as he kissed her back. Everything was a tangle of tongues and tears and blood and heartbreak as Jacks continued to take her sorrow. He drank it in with every needy movement of his cold lips against hers. His hands stayed locked with Tella’s, but they snaked behind her back, holding her tighter and caging her in as they both tumbled onto the floor.

This was nothing like their flawless first kiss during the Fated Ball. This kiss was urgent and wild and raw and corrupt. Full of all the terrible emotions flowing between them. A torrent of sorrow and pain. They were on the rough carpet and all over each other. Her teeth sank into his lips, biting sharp enough to draw blood.

He kissed her harder, possessively, nipping her jaw, then her neck, as his lips and teeth trailed down to her collarbone.

Before, he could feel her emotions, but now she could feel his. Even though he’d taken both her pain and her sorrow, that wasn’t what he was feeling now. He felt desire. Desperation. Lust. Obsession. He wanted her. She was all he wanted. All he thought about. She felt it in the way the kiss began to shift from reckless and hungry to languorous and savoring, as if he’d considered this for a very long time and now he was acting out all the things he’d imagined.

A faraway place that Tella tried to ignore told her this was all a great mistake—Jacks wa

sn’t really the one she wanted, Legend was. No matter what he did, or what he was, it would always be Legend. Maybe she could never actually have him, but she wanted him. If she was going to kiss one of the villains, she wanted it to be Legend, not Jacks.

She needed to push Jacks away.

But Legend never touched her anymore. Even if Legend had been there, he might not have held her, let alone kiss her. And it felt so good to be kissed, to be cherished and touched. To feel desire instead of pain. The sorrow was almost gone, and the kiss grew more intense. Or maybe now that Tella was no longer feeling crushing despair or seeing death, she could truly feel the entire kiss, and every inch of Jacks’s body as it pressed against hers.

But even in her muddled state, Tella knew she couldn’t let it continue.

She ripped her bleeding hand free of Jacks’s and ended the kiss.

Jacks made no attempt stop her. But he made no further effort to move away. They were both on their sides, chests pressed together, legs all tangled.

The pain and the sorrow and the hurt were gone. But so was all of her strength. She was boneless. Empty. There were splatters of blood all over her dress and her hands, and all over him. Something intimate, beyond the physical, had just passed between them.

Red tracks ran down his cheeks, ghosts of tears he’d cried for her.

She should have tried to leave. But her body was exhausted. And she liked the way it felt when Jacks wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his cool chest as if he wanted her to stay. After she regained her strength, she would go back to hating him. All she cared about now was that the pain was gone. “Thank you, Jacks.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I did you a favor, my love.”

14

Donatella