Page 182 of Nightshade

“Yes.”

With a nervous laugh, I shook my head. “I don’t dance for show.”

“Ever?”

“Never.”

“Shame.”

“Did … I … used to love dancing?”

“Very much. And I don’t think I could ever tire of watching.”

Smiling, I lowered my gaze and stepped closer to him, wanting to be near him, to kiss him out there in the open winter air, but the awkward shyness I’d grown up with made the movement jerky and unromantic. How strange that I’d had the filthiest sex of my life with the man, yet couldn’t bring myself to request a simple kiss.

Embarrassed, I turned away, but a tight grip of my arm drew my attention back to Van Croix.

“I will never deny you.” With a gentle yank, he pulled me into him, tight against his chest, where the warmth of his body soothed the cold nip on my skin. “Take what you want from me.”

I’d learned to be bold and unapologetic when it came to my career and pursuit for knowledge, but the thought of asking for affection from others, or worse, taking it, terrified me. Seizing what I wanted in that regard didn’t come naturally. My lack of trust for others, alongside the very real possibility of rejection, had crippled my nerve. Not only when it came to intimacy, either. I could hardly sustain friendships, let alone relationships, and I always perceived both as a burden. Like a plant I’d had to cultivate and grow and tend to everyday.

Being alone had always been easier for me. No expectations, or disappointments.

And yet, I couldn’t say that I truly enjoyed the solitary life. My life.

Cheeks still flush with my timid hesitation, I lifted my chin and pushed up on tiptoes. Stiffly wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him into me, just enough that our lips only touched.

Like the birds earlier, he moved at my will, and when I finally committed to the kiss, greedy lips seizing his, a surge of victory swam through me.

The fear of him pushing me away was literally smothered, when his arms wrapped around me and he pulled me in tighter to his body. And unlike the fierce and desperate kisses from before, this one was softer, lazier, as our tongues explored and the steam of our breath mingled in the cold air between us.

He gave, as I took, quietly feeding a hunger that I didn’t know had starved within me for so long. The intimacy and passion I’d shunned for so many years clawed at me for more.

More!

Like an addiction. How easily I could become addicted to Van Croix’s infatuation with me.

Lustina.

And what would happen when he realized that I hadn’t grown up the innocent young girl who’d danced and charmed what I’d gathered to be a very troubled boy. That I was a woman, hardened by life. Dissatisfied and restless. Always distracted and searching for answers.

How long would it take for him to tire of me?

Pressing my palms to his chest, I broke the kiss to catch my breath. Head lowered, I let the needles of doubt poke and prick my brain, ignoring how wonderful and right his arms felt around me.

“What troubles you?”

“How quickly this has grown comfortable. I want to believe it’s real.”

“And what tells you otherwise?”

I lowered my head to hide the doubts that must’ve been painted all over my face. “The nagging thought that if I were just me, and not some reincarnation of Lustina, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“I was intrigued by you very early on, but you’re right, I would’ve denied myself. Intentionally sabotaged any possibility of you and me.”

“Why?”

“However small and black it may be, I gave my heart to you a very long time ago. I’ve been incapable of loving anything since.” He ran his hand over my hair. “It’s not what you would’ve lacked that would’ve compelled me to turn away. It’s what I would’ve lacked.”