Chapter 292: The Kiss
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*****
GAHRYE
Frozen—afraid this wasn't real. Suddenly, everything within Gahrye exploded in a cascade of sensation and heat.
They both sucked in. Kalle's hands plunged into his hair and his scalp tingled under her touch.
It was instinct to simply take her. Cupping both hands on her jaw, he tilted his head and tasted her, deeper and deeper, gasping as their tongues tangled.
Then Kalle whimpered and suddenly Gahrye couldn't think.
He would be horrified at himself later, but in the moment he had to have more of her. Be closer. Show her what she meant.
Without breaking the kiss he started to his feet. And she followed him up, but she was so much shorter, he was curled over her, and that kept their chests apart, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't have space between them.
With a deep, resonant groaning call that he'd never allowed himself before, he leaned down and gripped her ass, sliding her onto the table, pushing books aside to make room and stepping immediately between her knees.
When he realized what he'd done he pulled back, cursing. "Kalle," he gasped, "Are you o—"
"Yes," she gasped and grabbed him pulling him back in, wrapping her arms around his neck when he came willingly.
With a soft moan, Gahrye let his hands slide up her sides to pull her in tight against him. And she was perfect—round where was flat, curved where he angled and her kiss tasted like honey to his soul.
Her breath thundered against his cheek, and his in her hair when, without thought he kissed his way along her jaw—groaning when she tipped her head back and offered her throat.
The mating call tore out of him as he opened his mouth against her throat and his entire body shuddered. Then, thoughtlessly, he kissed his way to the spot right under her ear, just there. When his lips tasted that skin, she whimpered again and he felt her shiver and his entire body pebbled with a complicated mix of desire, gratitude, and joy.
His heart raced and his hands shook, but he was frantic. Unable to release her, unable to give her space.
He was suffocating, and she was air.
Then she leaned back and hooked her legs around him and he almost came.
Shuddering, he gripped her ass, then slid his hand down the back of her thigh, marveling at the perfect curve of her, that delicious hollow under her knee—
Images and thoughts intruded suddenly—Shaw's smiling, but disappointed face. Gahrye's sinking heart. Kalle's sudden retreat.
And he remembered.
She can never go through the traverse.
And he had to.
They were doomed.
The thought hit him like a fist to the sternum just as Kalle's hand was sliding down his chest.
He gasped and tore himself back, stumbling away, panting, backing away from her until his back hit the wall, and he stared at her, wide eyed, his chest heaving.
She sat on the table, mouth open, gaping back at him. "What's wrong? Did I—"
"You can't… you have to…" Gahrye plowed both hands into his hair. He had to break eye-contact with her, she was pulling him back in. "You can never go to Anima, is that true? You can't make the traverse. Ever."
"Yes," she breathed. "That's true…" and grief shadowed her eyes. "But—"
Fucking Creator! Fucking playing with his life like a toy—first the disformation, then dangling the hope of the human world in front of him—then his mate! His true mate! His true heart's call! Letting him find her, taste her, feel her perfection, but never keep her. Always be torn between duty and love—
"I have to go," he snarled, pushing away from the wall and back to the table—but well wide of where Kalle still sat, gaping at him.
"Gahrye, what—"
"I have to do it," he seethed, stacking books heedless of their subject, simply needing something to do with his hands, aware that he couldn't run out into this strange world alone. He had to stay with her. Stay close. He groaned. "I am the Queen's Cohort. I'm sworn. For life. It's my life for hers. I swore to the King. I cannot… I must…"
He dropped the book that was in his hands and leaned on the table, forced himself to meet her wide sad eyes. "I cannot think of myself in this," he rasped. "The Creator tied me to the royal family and… and I have to go back. I have no choice. I have to be ready to go back at any moment. I cannot… I cannot be tied to this world. Kalle, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have been so selfish," he croaked.
*****
KALLE
The fire he'd lit inside her. She burned.
She'd read about this—about people who had this heat. This chemistry. Whose bodies called to each other. But she'd never experienced it before.
When he took her in his arms it was like she'd come home—better. It was like she'd found the place she could comfortably never leave. And that place was a spiral of desire.
She yearned.
She'd had sex before. She'd had good sex before. But this…
He'd opened a hole right at the center of her gut that only he could fill. She'd never in her life jumped into bed with man—not that quickly.? She'd never felt safe enough. But if he'd locked the door just then, she would have clapped her hands.
And when he groaned… it was startling and unique and made her gasp. But there was more to it than just a sound. More than just a response to the electricity that crackled between them.
He called to her
And she wanted to answer. Except… he was back pedaling fast.
Gahrye had pushed her away, then insisted that he couldn't be with her, shouldn't have touched her. She'd have understood it if it was just one of those moments, but his hands were shaking, and there was a tortured shadow behind his eyes. He looked at her like something precious had been stolen from him. And his tone was… angry?
"What the hell just happened?" she whispered.
"What happened," he spat, stacking books again—despite the trembling in his hands, "is that I was just reminded that the Creator enjoys tormenting me. And I wish I knew why. I'm sorry, Kalle. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I won't do it again."
*****
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