Page 45 of Ravaged From Fate

“Is it possible to have some water?” I ask, my throat on fire.

“I should’ve thought of that,” the man says, clearly flustered. He disappears and returns with a full glass and a mint for my vomity breath.

“Thanks.” It has been a long time since someone’s taken care of me. It’s usually me on the other side of the bed.

“You were good at holding down your liquor,” Caspian remarks. “Until that last song.”

“I was pretty drunk tonight,” I say. “I am a total lightweight.”

“I’m a bit drunk myself. You know how to down those shots.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re that drunk,” I reply. “You’re not vomiting into a bucket or anything.”

“I carried you across town in my arms. That’s a pretty drunk and stupid thing to do.”

I scoff. “I would say that’s romantic.”

Caspian tries to hold back his blushing, but I see it.

“I hope I don’t smell like vomit,” I say, breaking the tension between us.

Caspian laughs. “You don’t.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m planning on kissing anyone tonight.”

We fall back into silence until Caspian dares to speak first.

“I liked the kiss we had today,” he says quietly.

I involuntarily bite down on the mint in my mouth.

“I did too,” I reply.

And then, without a word, Caspian leans forward and takes my chin with his hand, bringing me close enough to kiss me lightly on the lips. Butterflies erupt in my stomach.

“Are we really doing this?” I ask him.

Caspian looks concerned. He has no need to be. “What do you want?” he asks.

“This,” I reply. “But it’s been a long time.”

Caspian pulls back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Elsa.”

I shake my head before grabbing his shirt to bring him in for another kiss. “You can’t ever hurt me, Caspian. Never ever.”

21

ELSA

We kiss for a long time. Enjoying the taste and feel of each other. I can sense Caspian’s wariness.

He’s really afraid to hurt me, ain’t he?

But I reassure him with my touch. I wrap my arms around his thick, muscular frame and pull him close passionately. I’m showing him how much I want him.

I’m showing him how he should treat me.

“I’m not a doll,” I whisper. “You can’t break me.”