Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(63)

She turns away. “Right.”

Pain filters into the air in a soft mist near her shoulders, and an unwelcome spark of guilt hits me.

An idea forms in my mind, and even as I tell myself it’s horrible, I decide I want to try it, anyway. Marius said I should make her feel settled. That I should use whatever means necessary to help her stay connected to us. And the appalling bloody truth is, I want to feel her one more time.

So I step closer, ignoring my quickening pulse. “I can show you. Just once.”

Her wide eyes shine in the moonlight, full of confusion.

“You can control your hunger, Sage.” I let myself reach out again, sliding my palm down her arm, taking her wrist in my hand. “You just have to understand it.” I place her palm on the side of my neck, not letting my eyes leave hers. A gold mist filters from her chest as her fingers slide over my nape, and a sting follows as she begins to pull, already feeding. I can tell she’s not aware of it, though. “You have to listen to the stirring in your belly and make it bend to your will, instead of the other way around. Can you feel it?”

She nods slowly.

“Tell me what it feels like,” I say as the familiar sting grows.

She licks her lips. “Warm and . . . comforting.” Her fingers flex against my neck.

“That’s the pull. What else do you feel?”

“My body is tingling and I smell . . . you.”

“That’s my energy filling your skin.”

“It is?”

“You’re feeding right now.”

Her eyes grow and she tries to jerk away, but I hold her hand to the side of my neck.

“Don’t be afraid,” I say. “Remember how it felt today, your energy in your blood. Just let yourself feel what it’s doing a little at a time. And then push it back down. Like you’re closing a door inside yourself.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, threads of panic in her voice.

I move closer until our chests are nearly touching and brush my fingers over her cheek. “Close your eyes and let yourself understand it, Sage. You’ll never learn to control it if you don’t try.”

Her eyes flutter shut. The sting becomes an ache in my head and shoulder as her pull deepens, but I stay focused on her, on her chest rising and falling, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip, and I find her breath echoing mine.

“I feel it,” she says, in awe. “I’m pushing it back.”

And sure enough, the pain in my neck and shoulder dissipates, only the heat left behind in my skin. Her eyes open, and a smile lights her face. But as she begins to back away, I have the exact opposite of a sane response.

My body leans in. My lips find hers. And every molecule I’m made of sighs with relief.

She gasps into my mouth, her surprise filtering between us, making me grip her neck and pull her closer. I need her closer. My fingers slip into her hair, and a new surge of energy spreads through my chest. But this time it’s not from her hungry nature. This time it’s mine. As my power surges through me, pushing me, forcing me to want more.

Her body relaxes into mine. My palm skims her bare arm, slides to her shoulder, my thumb playing over her clavicle, her jaw, caressing her neck, deepening our connection. She’s warm, soft, beautiful as she falls into it with me. I can’t help wishing we were anywhere but here as our labored breathing fills the space around us, the kiss stretching out, my pulse thrashing in my chest, the moment ready to drown me.

In the back of my mind I realize there’s no more pull from her, no sense of her feeding from me. And I’m stunned at her control when I have none. She touches my face, her fingertips delicate against my jaw, trembling. I smell her elation. I sense her fear blossom into delicate hope. And it cuts into me, the realization that this is more than a simple kiss to her. This is true affection.

But she can’t feel that for me. Not me.

I jerk away, nearly tipping into the fountain in my urgency to get my hands off her.

She stares at me, her mouth open in shock. “Wow,” she breathes. Her fingers move to her lips. “That was . . .”

“Not smart,” I say, amazed at how calm I sound. My body is pissed that I’m so far away from her. My hands ache.

“Thunder,” she says.

“What?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Nothing.”





TWENTY-FIVE

SAGE

“I’m sorry,” Faelan says in a tight voice. “I never should’ve . . . that wasn’t right.” His body is tense enough to crack. He looks ready to bolt.

“I’m fine, Faelan,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Everything is fine.” But I can hardly believe what we did. Not just the kiss, which was—wow. My legs are officially useless and I’m ruined forever.

But I controlled it. I controlled the hunger. I took that thing in me that I felt this afternoon and forced it down deep until it was barely a buzz in my head. He was right: once I understood it better I could manipulate it. And I did.

And then he kissed me.

Oh wow, did he kiss me.

Not that he’s happy about it. He’s obviously not. I’d be offended by his reaction if I wasn’t so relieved that I’d pushed back this thing inside me.

“Thank you,” I say.