The Lightning-Struck Heart (Tales From Verania 1)
I can’t be blamed, then.
I can’t be blamed for kissing him.
Because everything broke within me, and I was hollowed-out and empty.
So I kissed him.
I surged forward, and he exhaled into my mouth, a rush stronger than a sigh. I took it in as my eyes fluttered closed and as a day’s worth of his stubble scraped against my chin. I’ve kissed people before. A girl was my first, when I wasn’t sure who I was. Her name was Claire. A boy named Dougie on a dare. A castle guard named Craig when I turned eighteen and got drunk on my birthday. They were kind and sweet, but they were never like this. The tug of my lip as he worried it between his teeth. The slide of his tongue against mine, slick and warm, my heart ratcheting up in my chest. His thumbs on my cheek as he pulled away briefly, lips red and wet. Then he was on me again, pulling us together, our bodies aligning perfectly. The heat of him wormed its way through my clothes, and I might have whimpered quietly. But he swallowed it down, never letting it escape, a secret between us here in the dark, the stars shining down upon us. His breath was hot as he kissed his way up my jaw, the swipe of his tongue against my ear. My fingers curled against his chest, and he was all muscle as I breathed him in, woodsmoke and sweat and blood and we had to stop this. We had to stop before we couldn’t stop. I never wanted to. I never wanted it to end. Which is why it had to.
I said, “No,” my voice like gravel.
He brought his lips again to mine, his tongue insistent as it brushed my lips.
He pulled away, but only just, pressing his forehead against mine. Our eyes were opened, and we panted at each other, holding on tight. His eyes were blown wide, the pupils dilated until there was only a hint of color. His cheeks were blotchy, and his lips were spit-slick, and I thought savagely, I did that. I did that to him, and how my magic sang. It sang because I’d given it what it wanted most, tasting him, having him. For a brief, shining moment, I thought myself capable of anything. Everything. But it faded because I knew the truth. We’d carved out this little space just for him and me, but the moment we let go, the moment we stepped back, it would be over and we’d never have it again.
So I couldn’t be blamed, then. For holding on for just a little bit longer. For thinking this could be real, that it was just this easy. For wishing—wishing harder than I’d ever wished for anything before—that this moment would never end because I’d found someone made for me and I wanted to show Ryan why I was made for him.
He croaked, “Sam.”
“Yeah.”
“My word is my bond,” he said quietly. Desperately. Trying to get me to understand.
“I know.” Because I did.
“I would break it for you. I—”
“Would you?” I asked him. “Would you really?”
And he hesitated.
That was all the answer I needed. I didn’t blame him, not completely. I knew what oaths meant to knights. Especially when made to their kings and future kings. A knight who could not be trusted to honor his oath might as well not be a knight at all. I knew what was important to him. I didn’t blame him. I’d made my own oaths. My own promises. I understood.
And so I let him go.
He tried to hold on, tried to keep me from stepping away, but in the end, he couldn’t without hurting me. His hands trailed down my arms until he gripped my fingers and opened his mouth to say what, I don’t know. Because he closed it again and shook his head, tugging on my hands, trying to pull me back.
“We danced,” he said. “Three times the first time. If I’d known. If I could have known what—Sam. I don’t….”
“We’ll be okay,” I said. “One day. One day, this will all have faded. Everything we feel right now.”
“I don’t want it to fade,” he snapped at me.
“We don’t have a choice. I won’t be your secret. I won’t let you be mine.”
“It won’t be. He’ll understand. He’ll—”
“Ryan. Let me go.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. I won’t. You can’t make me. You can’t—”
“Ryan.”
“Fuck,” he said. “I wish—”
“I know.”
I pulled my hands away. He let them go this time.