In the Shadow of Blackbirds(65)

I pulled his head against my stomach and buried my face in his brown hair. “Tell them to go away. Tell them you haven’t been on the battlefield for a long while. Tell them you came home.”

His fear seeped inside me, pounding in my pulse and drumming against my ears. Our breaths blended into a staccato beat. All I could think about was Julius standing next to his camera while patriotic music blared from the phonograph to cover the bangs and thumps from the room above the studio.

“What happened to you?” I asked. “Did someone do something to you in your own house?”

“They’re killing me.”

“I know.” I kissed the top of his head through his smoke-laced hair. “I know.”

He breathed into the folds of my nightgown. “Keep me with you.”

“I’ll try.”

“Keep me close.” His lips kissed my stomach through the airy fabric—a flutter of pleasure that penetrated the pain. “I want you so much, Shell.”

“I want you, too. More than anything else.”

The room trembled with frustration and longing until even the curtains swayed, and my mouth filled with the rich flavor of a feast I could only taste but never, ever consume.

“I wonder what would happen if you pushed the darkness out of your thoughts.” I drew in a deep, quivering breath. “If you remembered the parts of your life that had nothing to do with death. I wonder what it would feel like if you moved closer to me without those suffocating memories weighing us down.”

He looked up at me, his eyes dark and curious.

“I wonder …” I pushed myself off the chair and grabbed his hand to help him to his feet, even though my own legs shook. “Can you stand up with me?”

He rose up above me, and we stood face-to-face for the first time since the morning we held Mr. Muse between us in his house. I cupped his cool cheek and guided him toward me by his waist. His hands ran across my back and seemed to grow warmer against my fabric. For a moment, the fear throbbing through him faded to a mere whisper of trepidation, barely there, like a weak heartbeat.

His attention switched to the ceiling. He tensed against me and held his breath.

“No, come back.” I grabbed both sides of his face again. “Come back to me. Think of something good. Think about kissing me in your house. Do you remember that?”

His eyes wouldn’t leave the dark air above us, and I, too, heard the flapping of restless wings.

“Think about how it felt when we kissed with your photograph tucked between us. Do you remember that?” I lowered his face until his forehead bumped against mine. “Did your heart beat as much as mine did, Stephen? Do you remember your lips on my mouth and neck? Do you remember the way you made me breathe?”

He closed his eyes with a sigh that shuddered straight through me.

“You remember, don’t you?” I whispered.

“Of course I remember.”

“I’m here now.” I brushed his lips with a kiss that tasted far less like smoke than the other night. “Stay with me. Don’t think of anything else. Not a single thing. Let’s see if I can keep you with me.”

He caressed the back of my neck, and we kissed again. The sensation was stirring and sweet. The closer we got, the more the feeling bloomed into a rush of pleasure far more delicious than even the bliss of flesh against flesh. My head clouded over with a dizzying sense of exhilaration. My legs lost their ability to stand.

“I need to sit down.” I pulled away from him but grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t disappear. “Come with me.” I guided him back toward my bed with careful footsteps. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes.”

We sat on the edge of the bed, and our mouths returned to each other. His fingers explored the curves of my body from my neck to my chest, and down to my waist. Lovely breezes shivered across my skin. He slid my nightgown up past my knees and kissed the small of my throat.

“Is this all right?” he asked. “Can I pull your skirt up farther?”

I nodded, and he kissed my neck again with a touch that melted straight through me. His hands edged my nightgown up to my hips.

I lay back against the cool quilt and allowed him to climb on top of me.

His lips warmed my chest through the nightgown’s fabric. “For some reason, Shell, I can’t ever take off these clothes. I don’t know why.”

“It’s all right. Just be close to me.”

“I want to be as close as I can.”

“We’ll make the best of it.”

I held on to his back and felt him push against me with a sigh that traveled deep inside my own lungs. I still wore my cotton drawers, and he kept his trousers buttoned, but an electrifying current pulsed between us.

“See,” I murmured, “we’re even closer than we could have been before.”

Energy coursed through my blood and brought a smile to my face, and I could tell by the way Stephen breathed and lowered his eyelids that he was experiencing the same rapture. We toyed with the provocative sensation, his trousers brushing against my legs in a hushed rhythm, until he broke the silence with another whisper.

“This is the way Julius told them he found us.”

“No—don’t bring up anything upsetting right now.” I gripped his arm to keep him from slipping back into the darkness.