Flame in the Mist (Flame in the Mist #1)(65)

He stared down at her. Though the color of his eyes nearly matched their centers, Mariko watched the lines between them blur. Another flurry of emotions passed across ōkami’s face. Confusion. Trepidation. Uncertainty.

But Mariko did not miss that first thought. That first emotion.

Desire.

“Do you feel ridiculous now?” she whispered.

Mariko was met with a trace of humor and a silent challenge.

She responded by stealing another kiss.

ōkami’s hand still rested between them, his long, strong fingers pressed against her skin. And when that hand slid to her neck—when he fitted himself to her and closed his eyes, settling into the kiss—Mariko did not want to let go. Ever.

It was a mistake. All of it. For as long as she’d known him, Mariko had despised the very idea of this boy.

But the truth of him?

The truth was not quite as simple. It was a silent entreaty. A wordless plea.

Don’t stop.

ōkami rolled onto his back, positioning her above him. He braced her chin in one hand, his lips traveling down her neck. To her bared shoulder. Back up to her ear.

Don’t stop.

The rain battered down around her. Her heart slammed against her chest. Mariko finally closed her eyes, no longer caring about anything else but the feel of him. His hands at her back. His kisses across her skin. The stars could fall—the moon could crash from the heavens—and Mariko would not care.

When ōkami broke away, his breath spilled from his lips in jagged slivers.

“Don’t stop,” she said without thinking.

His response was a wicked smile. Wordlessly, ōkami rolled again, pinning her beneath his mouth, covering her with his body. He slid lower. Watched her face as he blew a cool stream of air across her bare stomach. A thread of molten amber raced down her spine.

When Mariko trembled—sparks dancing across her skin—ōkami laughed softly.

Then he kissed her again, and it was a controlled fire on her tongue. The type that threatened to burn into a crashing, thrashing ache. The type of kiss—the type of boy—Mariko had thought to avoid at all cost. The unpredictable type. The dangerous type.

Her hands slid inside his soaked kosode to his chest. To feel the rise and fall of smooth muscle beneath her fingertips.

“Who are you?” ōkami demanded in her ear.

Fitting how the Wolf could speak in such a cold and exacting voice. Yet kiss as he did.

With such abandon.

Mariko knew ōkami heard each beat of her heart. Felt each of them as she did.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” she said, her words as bated as his.

“You’ll lie.”

She nodded. “Then we can both be liars.” Mariko waited for ōkami to decide. For him to make the decision to fight back. Or leave the truth alone.

For now.

With a blistering look, ōkami yanked her topknot free of its bindings. Then he kissed her beneath the chin, so softly, so gently, that it made her gasp. Made him laugh again under his breath. Made her realize that nothing was in her control.

That everything was in her control.

She tangled her fingers in his hair as their lips met. As their kiss deepened. In that moment, Mariko wanted to believe ōkami would not tell.

At least for now.

—

They lay beside each other in silence, staring up at the newly uncovered stars.

Close enough to touch but fathoms apart.

Her heart had only just ceased pounding. Her breath had only just settled. All that passed between them were lingering traces of feeling.

Nothing of substance.

ōkami was stretched out beside Mariko, offering half a smile to no one. As though he was both amused and at war with himself all at once.

“ōkami—”

“What is your name?” he asked pointedly. “Your real name.”

Mariko thought for an instant. Trust was not an option. Not when so much still depended on maintaining secrecy. “Chiyo.”

He inhaled, the sound laced with irritation. “You’re lying. Again.”

“I am not lying, I—”

ōkami turned toward her, his eyes locking on hers. “Don’t draw a line. Unless you wish for me to cross it.”

“Well then, don’t cross it.” Mariko’s voice was even, though her pulse skipped.

“You know me well enough to know that is not an option.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Mariko did know him well enough to know that. Yet she still knew nothing about him. And she wished she could ask him something of note. But—as usual—the Wolf had made it impossible, using only a few simple words. And it only made her want to draw that line and push him past it.

But it was far too risky. Not when he held her secret in his grasp. And not when she’d foolishly entrusted him with a piece of her heart, if only for a moment.

As if in reminder of that fact, Mariko’s chest hollowed. She had to redeem herself for such reckless behavior. Behavior so unlike her. These stolen kisses beside these hot springs would have lasting value if she could learn something that served her greater cause. After all—even if ōkami brought out a wild, uncontrolled part of herself Mariko had not even known existed before—he was still a member of the Black Clan.

Engender trust.

Strike when they least expect it.