Authors: Heather Lyons
Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #New Adult & College, #Paranormal, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Magical Realism, #Paranormal & Urban, #Romantic
“I’m not complaining,
silly.”
Another kiss is pressed
right below my ear, followed by another slow lick that drives me crazy in want.
“I never said you were.” He leans back and gives me one of his smug grins. “As
a matter of fact, I rather think you’re happy about today’s turn of events.”
“Is that an official
Emotional diagnosis?”
He’s smug. “Of course. But
then, the better part of Downtown Annar thinks so, too—especially as everyone
got to go home with armfuls of free flowers.”
More than just my face
burns. “I’m not always the best at controlling my emotions, am I?”
“Did you notice the people
around us when we left?”
I hadn’t, of course. I was
too focused on Jonah and all of the wonderful visions of my future ahead of me.
“Everyone was drunk on
love,” he whispers to me. “And, to be honest, a fair share of lust, too. I
wasn’t too good at controlling my feelings, either.”
I pretend to be shocked
while being not so secretly delighted I caused Jonah to lose control. “So. You
love me?” I roll over and gently nudge him to his back, so I can push myself up
over him.
His fingers trace the length
of my hips, inwards to my thighs. I’m breathless in anticipation before his
hands still. “What I feel for you goes above love.”
I pause, mid-way to his
lips. My heart flutters uncontrollably.
“I . . . I don’t think I can
describe it, even to you, Chloe. What I feel for you—it’s . . .” He bites his
lower lip and stares up at me, his emotions more naked than his chest. “You’re
my best friend. My favorite person. Someone I know I can go to when I’m happy
or sad or anything in between. The only person who makes me lose control, who
makes me so hot and fills me with so much want and need I can’t even think
straight. The person whose lips are addictive,”—a thumb grazes my bottom
one—“whose mind is more beautiful than anything else I’ve ever seen. You’re
more than my Connection; you know that, right? The first night we met, I became
the luckiest guy in all the worlds. I don’t think you truly understand what you
mean to me.” His head turns softly against the pillow. “I don’t think you ever
will.”
I try to find something,
anything, to say to convey what I feel for him, too. But Jonah’s right—it’s
impossible to put into words. So I do it the only way that can guarantee he’ll
know what I feel: I open my heart up to him. Love—no, like he said,
more
than love—fills me up, overflows, and radiates through the room.
My
lips find his, and then our minds connect and merge again until our bodies
explode in ecstasy for the second time in less than an hour. The flowers I’d
unleashed on Annar hours before were a paltry show to what rains down in my
bedroom now. But I can’t help myself. I’m just too damn happy to try to control
these feelings.
For twenty-four hours, I
float on a cloud of pure bliss even after having to zap hundreds of flowers out
of my bedroom. Jonah and I hole up in our apartments and do the domestic thing,
pretending we’re already married. We turn the ringers off on our phones, order
in food, and spend the better part of our time pushing the boundaries of the
whole no-sex-before-marriage deal. But the frustrating truth is, for as much as
we do to and with the other, I’m still a virgin. I’m a nineteen-year-old,
incredibly sexually frustrated virgin who is engaged to be married to someone
who, with a single glance or touch, can reduce me into lust personified.
He’s promised me forever.
We’re
forever. This is stupid. I’ve had four orgasms in the last day alone, him the
same. Why are we waiting? What difference does it make?
“You’re doing it again,”
Jonah teases, his voice nearly all breath and little sound. We are on the
couch, attempting to watch a movie.
“Doing what?” My voice is no
better.
He presses his forehead
against mine, his damp hair tickling my cheek. It’s been warm today, and what
with our marathon make out sessions, we’ve both just gotten out of the shower.
Jonah, by the way, is totally sexy with wet hair. It’s got a slight wave to it,
making me itch to twist my fingers up in the strands for hours. “Chloe . . . do
you know how hard it is for me to keep my promise to your dad when you’re like
this?”
Gah! “Screw my dad.”
“Is it truly terrible of me
to follow that up with,
I’d like to screw you
?”
To say I’m delighted is an
understatement, especially after the torture he’s put me through this last day
and night. “Then you should.”
He pauses over me. I can
practically hear the wheels turning in his head. I can definitely feel how much
he likes the idea against my belly.
I press my advantage. “This
here . . . this isn’t about my dad. Who I ought to point out isn’t even
speaking to us anymore. It’s about you.” I gently nip at his earlobe; he moans
and presses himself a bit harder against me. “And me.” I lay a trail of kisses
down the length of his chin. “And us.” My lips graze his, so, so lightly, but
it’s enough for both of our hearts to go into overdrive.
“I want you,” he whispers.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.”
I hook one of my legs around
his waist and tug him closer. “The feeling is mutual.”
He trembles in my arms, but
when his mouth finds mine, I know I’ve won.
We’ve
won. We’re kissing,
and it’s the hottest it’s ever been—so red-hot that I’m shocked the room
doesn’t go up in flames. Lightbulbs explode, though, and the television hisses
and pops and melts down, but none of this is because of anger. No—this is all
lust.
Love.
Wanting.
Need
.
It’s hard to breath, it’s
hard to see, it’s hard to think, it’s hard to do anything, anything, but
feelfeelfeel every amazing, wonderful thing he’s making me feel, doing to me,
it’s magic, real magic,
he’s
magic, and it’s like I’m alive, first time
ever really alive and yet floating and ohmygods, OHMYGODS, I need to get his
shorts off, I need him in me, want us to be one and—
And then he’s swearing in my
ear.
Which cannot possibly be
right.
Jonah pushes off me and I
grab at him. “No, forget my dad, come back—”
And then I hear it.
Pounding. And shouting.
“Dammit, Jonah! Will you
answer the door already? We know you’re in there! Is Chloe there too? Neither
of you are answering your phones! WILL YOU OPEN THE DAMN DOOR ALREADY? We need
to talk!”
My focus is blurry. Jonah
hands me my tank top and shrugs into his t-shirt. He shouts something about
them waiting, but then it’s him who waits. He sits down on the edge of the
coffee table and takes deep breaths.
I tug my shirt on and
straighten my shorts, even though my body feels like it’s about to liquefy and
my arms are useless as jelly. “Um, who . . .?”
Jonah has to clear his
throat. He looks like he’s in physical pain. “The Guard. I think.”
More pounding and shouting.
Jonah squeezes his eyes close and takes one more giant breath. Then he stands
up and goes to answer the door.
I struggle to get my
heartbeat under control before Zthane and Karl enter the living room. They
survey the scene with wide eyes, which has a bit more destruction than I’d
previously thought, before smiling weakly at me.
I didn’t think it possible,
but I think I just might hate these two guys at the moment. They have the
crappiest timing ever.
I attempt to smooth my
sweaty hair down, even though I’m positive it’s plastered against my face.
Jonah’s certainly is. “Have a seat,” he tells them before settling next to me
on the couch.
Zthane tears his eyes away
from the television as I repair it and lowers himself in a chair across from
us. “Sorry for dropping in like this, but we’ve been trying to get ahold of you
all day to discuss next week’s mission.”
No. No. NO. We are not
discussing this right now. Not now. Not when things are perfect between Jonah
and me. “I really think we ought to—”
Jonah interrupts me. “What
mission?”
Karl tugs at the collar of
his polo shirt and shoots me an exasperated look. “Let me guess. Chloe and
Kellan haven’t talked to you about the meeting we had this week?”
It’s my turn to smile
weakly. Bastard.
Ever the diplomat, Jonah
says, “I’d like to hear the details from you.”
Zthane lays out the plan
just like he had in our other meeting. Whether or not he notices Jonah’s gone
completely still during all this is unknown. Karl has, though. He’s watching
Jonah warily. “Currently, the mission is scheduled for a week from today. We’ll
be focusing on the area you two went to high school in, as it’s a known
location to the Elders for Chloe.”
My hand finds Jonah’s and
squeezes. Every muscle in his body is tense.
“Glad to see you’re taking
this rationally,” Zthane continues. “I must admit, after Kellan’s insistences
of you forbidding us from including Chloe in the mission, we were a bit worried
about talking to you.”
Jonah’s grip is close to
cutting off the circulation in my hand. I refuse to wince, though. “Don’t be
silly. Jonah understands what’s at stake,” I say, mustering cheerfulness. “And
honestly, guys. You make it sound like he’s my dad and we’re in the Middle
Ages. Jonah would never forbid me to do anything. Since this is my choice and
all.”
“Of course,” Zthane murmurs.
Karl cocks an eyebrow up at
Jonah. He knows better. He has a Connection. He knows the intense feelings that
would come with such a situation.
When Jonah finally speaks,
he surprises all of us. “I assume you’re looking to me to be the official
Council liaison for the mission, since you’ve requested my presence and Chloe
will be working.”
“Makes sense, with your
influence nowadays, doesn’t it?” Karl asks. “I typically fill in for the role,
but we figured things would be better sanctioned with your backing.”
Jonah issues a quick, tight
nod. “Did you bring me the dossier?”
Zthane extracts a brown file
out of the black leather messenger bag he’d brought in. “The latest Tracker
reports are included, as well as specs on the upcoming mission. Chloe, you’ll
need to familiarize yourself with everything, too.”
After they leave, Jonah
opens the folder on the coffee table. He doesn’t say anything to me for what
feels like forever.
“Let me explain—” I begin,
but he closes the folder.
“Explain what?”
“Why I accepted the
assignment.”
He turns to fully face me.
“I already know why you accepted.” When my eyes widen in surprise, he
clarifies, “This mission is important to helping figure out how to take down
the Elders. Of course you’d accept.”
Well now. How refreshing.
This is easier than I thought.
Or not. Because he’s still
going. “But, I’ll be honest. I don’t want you to go. It took everything in me
not to kick their asses for even daring to suggest using you. I’m still
considering doing so.”
At least he’s not raving
like Kellan had. Or blackmailing me into not going. “I can see that. When I
first thought they were talking about you, I was going to tell them you’d only
be allowed over my dead body.”
He laughs, but sobers
quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I’m honest. “Things have
been good between us lately. I didn’t want to fight.” I don’t know if it’s the
right thing to do or not, but I continue, “Especially after Kellan and I fought
over it.”
Jonah’s silence is
unnerving.
I need to turn this away
from where I stupidly just took us, and do it quick. I touch his ring. “This’ll
be our first official mission together. That’ll be fun, right?”
“Under no circumstances will
I ever find a time where I’m waiting for you to be attacked fun, Chloe.” He
sighs and grasps my hand, more gently now. “It’ll be absolute torture. If
anything was to happen to you—”
I can’t let him go there.
“It won’t. You’ll be there. A whole team of Guard will be there. I’ll be safer
than any other being on all the planes at that moment.”
He swallows. “Do you know
what my dad was like, before he lost my mom?”
Ewan Whitecomb and my father
could probably tie for the Worst Father award. He’s an unemotional and
unattached distant parent who views his sons more as status symbols rather than
loved ones.
“He was like me,” Jonah says
quietly. “He was happy. In love. Had the worlds in front of him. When she died
. . . he died, too. Or rather, the person he was died and a zombie took over.
That’s what happens when you lose your Connection. Remember what it was like
for us last year? When we were separated? Imagine that, times a thousand. Every
second of every day, for the rest of a long-lived life you no longer wish to
live, is pure misery and anguish. He wasn’t always an asshole, Chloe. Most people
thought he was a really great guy.”
My heart aches for Jonah.
For his dad.