Page 24 of Apple Boy

“You don’t understand?” he scoffed. “I don’t understand neither!” He spat. “What are ye, Winter Aeling? Are YOU a practitioner?” He accused, parroting the words I’d foolishly asked on our midnight walk to the bathhouse.

“What?” I spat back. “Is kissing a test for sorcery where you come from?” I countered. My lips throbbed from the savagery of his mauling and my body yearned for more. He glared at me, his green eyes sharp and clear like cut emeralds, the pupils blown wide. I’d never seen him so aroused before.

Adam threaded his hands through his dark curls as if he was ready to tear his hair out with frustration. “Gods, Winter. What secrets are ye keepin? I need to know. I need to know cos whatever it is you did; it might just see us swing.” He roared in outrage.

Adam was always placid in my company. I had witnessed his temper once before when he’d attempted to stop his pa from striking his mother and strangling me to death, but hearing that furious tone directed at me not only made me feel indignant, it aroused me too.

“Are you a mage? Well, are ye?” he challenged again. It was like Adam’s emerald gaze saw straight through me, and I had nowhere to hide. The words stuck fast in my throat. What could I say? I did not believe I was a mage, but the things happening to me, to us—unexplainable things, seemed to tell me that I was. I just could not believe that it could be true.

“I don’t know,”

Adam let out a disdainful huff as if he didn’t believe me either. He pulled away, turned, and strode to the dresser where a basin and ewer of water stood.

“Honest, Adam. That’s the truth of it. I really do not know what I am.” I insisted. I remained pinned to the door, wracked with confusion, and unable to move. My mind was a whirr, and this tension between us was something I was not at all used to. My lovers were never difficult. They knew their place, never agued, and never asked more of me than I offered them because they were—I’m loathed to admit because it sounds so callous—replaceable.

Adam was proving to be difficult. He was pushing me into uncharted territory, because already I believed I knew this man well and our strange, rare connection was irreplaceable to me. However, I was a gentleman by birth, and I did not like being cornered and accused of dishonesty in this manner. Adam infuriated me. If the number of patrons in the taproom was anything to go by the inn was full, and I could not sleep elsewhere. We were stuck sharing this bedchamber. I was building a head of steam and lining up my thoughts, readying to defend myself. I would have my say, damn it! This was not my fault. I growled internally, readying for a fight—and then, Adam removed his billowy white shirt, and I found I was quite undone. I took another breath to steady myself,

“Why did you kiss me if you believe me to be a mage?” I accused, my voice packing less of a punch than I’d intended. Watching him undress, I instinctively licked my lips, drawing the taste of him inside me. I keenly observed his reflection in the small mirror beside the basin.

“I kissed ye because—” He paused, as if reluctant to voice his truth, “Look! I wanted to. I wanted te taste you. I’ve wanted te do that proper since the bathhouse, and I wanted to do more.” Adam admitted, his cheeks staining crimson, his eyes wide and sparkling with a promise. I did not know what to say to his candid answer.

Adam Sewell was hopelessly distracting. I observed him as he washed his face and torso, pushing and pulling the soapy washcloth over his youthful, robust working man’s body. A low fire burned in the hearth and the firelight against Adam’s skin gave it an otherworldly glow. I fixed upon the way the muscles in his back moved beneath his golden flesh, and my prick stirred in my britches. If I did not know Adam, or what we’d already done together, watching him wash would have made me believe he was the one touched by magic because to my mind, his big, loyal heart and the raw masculinity of his body were where I believed true power lay.

I’d intended to request hot water for a bath, but instead, I levered away from the door, and when Adam finished, I washed the dust of the road away from my face, hands, and chest in the basin.

We had but one stubby candle between us and the firelight dancing on the walls transformed the sparse chilly room into an intimate space.

As if Adam could feel my eyes upon him, he turned, grinned with satisfaction, and dropped his trews displaying firm pale buttocks. Adam dragged on the white cotton nightshirt provided by the inn, drew back the covers, and scrambled into the large four-poster bed. He sat with his hands in his lap watching me hawkishly as I stripped, donned my nightshirt, and slipped into bed beside him. I did not like this tension and knew I would not sleep if we did not clear the air. I snuck the Star-fall beneath my pillow and sat there in anticipation, silently waiting for something to happen.

I wanted to tell Adam about what had occurred on the road—about the latent magic we seemed to have unlocked together and how these days with him had been the most wonderful adventure of my life. All of these things at once fought for release; they formed a knot in my throat, and, frustratingly, I could not speak.

I turned regretfully to look at Adam and found he was watching me, but the look he was giving me was not one of anger or disappointment, it was soft and searching. He leaned in, and his rough hand cupped my cheek, again, he initiated a kiss. I liked this. I liked the fact that he enjoyed kissing me and was becoming bolder. This kiss was slow, deep, and tender—nothing like the feasting kisses we’d just shared or our first kisses at the bathhouse. Adam was learning what I liked and he was giving me what I wanted. The slow sensuality of his lips pressed to mine made me groan out my pleasure into his mouth. The kiss not only loosened my lips, but it also eased the weight in my chest. For a man who kissed me like this—with such tenderness and consideration could not hate me, and that gave me comfort.

It would be so easy to drag Adam atop me and if he consented, begin a slow, torturous push and pull to find our release. But Adam eased away and smiled, seemingly having satisfied his curiosity as to the taste of me, and then in a calm, measured voice said, “Please tell me. What happened out there on the road, Winter? I don’t get any of it an’ I need te understand.”

Adam had well and truly broken my defences with those kisses and my thoughts muddled. “Um… yes, well.” I stuttered. “You were there. What do you think happened?” I said pedantically.

“Gods! Winter!“ Adam spat in frustration.

“I saw ye do somethin’ that could see ye hang. I saw ye do… magic.” he whispered that last word as if the walls had ears. “And sure, ye saved us all, but if the other passengers say anytin’—”

Was that Adam’s problem? Was he worried about me—about someone telling the guards that I’d performed magic?

“Fitzwarin was a gurrier an’ he woulda done fer us all, I’m sure of it.” Adam insisted. I nodded in agreement. Fitzwarin did not intend to leave a soul alive to tell of his misdeeds.

“But what I don’t understand is, how? How did ye do that? He flew through the air like he’d been kicked up the arse by a giant, an’ then he landed like a sack o’ spuds. I’ve never seen anything like that in all me life.”

I chuckled at his description. Adam seemed to be obsessed with giants. I would have to introduce him to a friend of mine one day!

“Adam. I didn’t do that—”

“Ye did. I saw with me own eyes!” He insisted.

“No, I didn’t do that,” I informed gently, for I sensed the words that followed would be a shock.

“We did that, together,” I revealed. Adam’s brows knitted in confusion.

“I don’t believe I could have done that without you.” I snuck my hand under the pillow and clasped the Star-fall. “And this, we used this,” I admitted opening my hand and letting the gem fall onto the coverlet.