Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)
The ley line hums inside his skin. The deep, rich power settles softly back into place, nestling into him and going dormant.
The world is silent. There are no vines left, no screaming. Nothing but a soft breeze and the faint hum of the ley line’s protection around us.
“Is it over
?” Smith asks. His voice rasps, like he’s speaking through smoke.
I stretch out my glamour, dizzy from the overload of power, warm for the first time in centuries. I can sense everything. Every living, breathing creature in the yard. The insects hovering in the tree branches, the grass digging its roots deeper into the dirt. At the end of the garden, there’s a faint impression of magick, but it disappears too quickly for me to recognize.
“Nothing there,” I answer. I don’t sound much better than him.
“Fuck.”
I nod. Smith doesn’t move, just kneels and breathes. The fading power magnifies his presence. He hasn’t looked at me, but it doesn’t matter. His pulse pounds in my head. Unexpected muscle twitches reverberate through his body; their aftershocks seem to echo all the way to his hand, which remains clasped around mine.
The wicked burn of the ley line has ebbed and a different warmth takes its place, fueled by his permitting this touch. Our inhalations overlap, steady, and synchronize. I have the slow, wondrous realization that my thumb can finally skate over his knuckles, tracing the scars there. That I can marvel how the edges of his calluses press into my skin and send my mind spiraling with questions of how his hand would feel skimming over my arm, my chest, my neck. As if we’re so connected he can tell the direction of my thoughts, he tightens his grip and tentatively brushes his thumb over my skin.
The distant wail of sirens heralds the impending arrival of campus security.
Against my will, I release my grip on him and rise. The warmth vanishes, leaving nothing but my flush and the phantom pressure of his touch, which is also gone far too soon. “We need to go,” I warn.
“Fuck.”
“Smith...”
He stares ahead, unmoving. The web we made slowly winks into darkness, fireworks dying out as they fall.
“Smith,” I try again.
Nothing. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, and it worries me. I kneel beside him, wanting to reach out and touch him. He came back for me, protected me instead of running away. Love burns sharper than his magick did.
“Oh, Finn—”
His head snaps to the side and his eyes meet mine. He’s confused, drained, and lost, but alive. So fucking alive, and he’s staring at my mouth like he’s never seen it before. I only wait until his gaze flicks back up to mine, until I see the heated invitation in his eyes, before closing the distance between us.
His lips are soft and when I press my body closer, a groan rumbles from his chest. This close, I can tilt his head back and take his mouth the way I want. I dig my fingers into his hair and hold him there while I skim my tongue over his lower lip—
He pushes himself up into me, hips pressed against mine, our cocks rubbing through our thin dress slacks. Our teeth click when he tries to deepen the kiss. He makes a noise that is half plea, half whimper and his tongue tangles with mine. Liquid heat slides down my spine and all my muscles tighten because Finn is kissing me like his life depends on it.
And we’re in the middle of the Seelie sorority gardens where anyone could see us and report this back to my mother.
I pull back with a rough “Shit.”
He gasps, mouth working for a moment before he realizes what’s going on. He brushes a hand over his swollen lips as I stand. His mussed hair spills over his forehead. I have to walk away before he can say anything that will steal this moment from me.
I end up running instead.
Chapter Nine
Phineas
My suit’s ruined.
I might be able to wash my pants to remove the worst of the stains, but the jacket is beyond repair.
For the first time, I protected Roark. The fear of losing him was stronger than the fear of losing control.
He put his hand in mine and my head cleared, like I’d stepped outside after a blizzard passed, surrounded by nothing but the cold and light and silence.