Give the Dark My Love(50)

“What is this to you?” Grey asked me. “I know you are dedicated to your work. I respect that. But what about us? Do I have a chance, or should I—”

I crossed the distance, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him closer to me. It was still so new, this easy way we touched each other, but it came from instinct. A week ago, I would never have dreamed of touching him like this, of feeling the length of his body against mine, but now it was as natural as breathing.

He lowered his head as I looked up at him. My eyes fluttered shut as he kissed me. The book dropped to the floor, the sound echoing in the small room, and I reached up to slide my arms around Grey’s neck, pressing my lips hard against his. His hand cupped the back of my head, and shivers raced up and down my spine.

Grey whirled me around, my feet skimming the floor, and he dropped me on the edge of my bed. I held on to him, pulling him down with me. My hands slid under his shirt, trailing up his back. He growled, the sound low and deep and needy, and he pushed me back against the mattress.

I wasn’t sure how I felt—I wasn’t indecisive, I just couldn’t name this deep longing inside of me. I could see the same thing reflected in Grey’s eyes. Something primal. Something needy.

Something hungry.

As soon as the thought flitted through my mind, I shivered, repulsed that what I felt now reminded me of that moment in the factory. Dilada’s pain shot through my hands, up my arms, into the center of me.

I pushed Grey aside. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, catching his breath. When he looked at me, there was concern in his eyes.

“It’s . . .” I took a deep, shaky breath. “There is work to do,” I said.

His worry was replaced with disappointment.

“There’s more to life than work,” he said.

I got up and moved to the couch. “I know,” I said, but I didn’t think he heard me.

I stared down at my book, not comprehending any of the words on the page. After a few moments, Grey got up from the bed. He strode across the room and knelt in front of me, one hand on my cheek. “I understand,” he said.

And I knew he didn’t. He couldn’t.

But I loved him for trying.

Before I could say anything, I heard a voice outside my window. My room faced the street, but the gatekeeper must have been lax about letting Tomus outside the campus grounds after curfew. He was clearly even drunker than he had been before, and he was singing a bawdy song at the top of his lungs.

“He doesn’t know this is your room,” Grey said, frowning at the thin curtains over the glass.

I nodded. Tomus wasn’t being overtly threatening. He was just there, closer than I’d like him to be.

My mind flashed with the anger Tomus wore beneath his mask. He was used to getting what he wanted, and he seemed intent on finding someone to blame.

“I can make him leave,” Grey started, standing. I wasn’t sure if he intended to shout at Tomus out the window or go down there and physically remove him, but I caught his arm, holding him back.

“No,” I said. “Just . . . stay?”

He looked at me for a long moment, a flicker of desire still in his gaze. “Of course,” he said.

We spent the night reading, pretending like everything was normal. And then I curled up in the center of my bed, and Grey stretched out on my couch. I turned down the wick of the oil lamp. It was dark. Tomus was long gone. The city was asleep.

I stared into the blackness and tried not to think about how Grey was just over there, lying on the couch. I could hear his breathing, and I knew he was awake, too. I tried to force myself to fall asleep, but I heard every tiny motion Grey made.

Before sleep could overtake me, I threw my quilt back, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and padded across the room to him.

“Grey,” I whispered.

He sat up immediately.

I didn’t speak again. I didn’t trust myself to. I took his hand, and he followed me back to the bed, under the blanket. My heart was oddly calm, but I could feel his pulse thrumming chaotically in his chest as we settled onto the mattress. Questions hung around him, but when I curled up next him, resting my head on the space where his shoulder met his chest, one arm flung across his body, his breath softened. A long, low sigh escaped his lips, and he held me closer, tight, like he was afraid I would slip away. And then I felt his entire body sink into the bed, relaxing. Within moments, he was asleep.

And for the first time since I danced too close to Death, I felt safe.





THIRTY


    Grey



When i woke the next morning, it took me a moment to remember where I was.

I sat up, rubbing my bleary eyes. Nedra was already dressed for the day, her long skirt flowing under a tunic, with a cloak over her shoulders, the big square pockets bulging. Her alchemical bag sat by the door, and I could see her crucible peeking out from inside it.

I stretched, yawning hugely. Nedra turned, watching as the blanket fell away from my bare chest, and a surge of heat filled me—I liked the way she looked at me. “We could stay for a little,” I said, lifting an eyebrow at her suggestively.

Nedra smirked at me, but she said, “I need to go.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not like I’m getting extra credit or anything. Master Ostrum won’t even be there.”