Page 13 of The Tanglewood Witches (The Three Sisters 1)
“I wasn’t using you, Alena. And as for your comment when we were in the stone room about the other woman you saw coming out of my abode, I have not and will never be interested in her. She loiters around my shop. That is all. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I met you on that fated vessel. As for the feast, I would have told you the truth if those ancient biddies hadn’t poisoned you against me. I allowed the rumor that I was an archon to persist because it was a distraction, an explanation for my wealth that kept my magic a secret. If you’d only forgive me—”
“What? What would happen if I forgave you?” She searched his face. There was so much there in his expression, so much pain and longing. He was sorry; she could tell that with certainty. And his regret seemed genuine. But could she trust his intentions were pure?
Before she could take another breath, he kissed her. At first her body stiffened in resistance to the unexpected affection. She arched against his arm in a half-hearted attempt to pull away. But the longer his lips pressed against hers, the more impossible it became to fight the kiss. She tilted her head and trailed her fingers up his neck, threading them into the hair behind his ears. Parting her lips, she let him in. Into her mouth, into her heart again.
The kiss ignited a delicious heat that traveled from her lips to her toes. It warmed her and wooed her. She’d spent many long nights cursing Orpheus as a liar and scoundrel, but this kiss didn’t lie. She found it impossible to maintain the walls she’d erected against him. It was too difficult. Chances were that her life would end today or tomorrow. She didn’t have the energy to waste on hating him any longer. Not when his touch made her heart beat for what seemed like the first time since the last time they’d kissed.
He made a distinctly male sound deep in his chest that rumbled against hers. She sighed into his mouth as he gently pulled away. Their eyes met, his that deep, arresting blue that always hastened her pulse. She wondered how he’d describe hers. They were also blue, although lighter than his, just like her father’s. Her aunt had once said she had ghost eyes. The woman had found them eerie against her pale skin and midnight-black hair. If he thought them strange, Orpheus didn’t say so. There was nothing but desire in his expression.
“I forgive you.”
“All it took was a kiss?” he said softly. “I would have done that sooner had I known and if I could have gotten close enough to you.” His large hands stroked along her waist, and he lowered his forehead to rest against hers.
“I suppose you needed only to offer me a ride across town on your back.”
“The secret to the heart.”
Her gaze dropped to the pathway. “I don’t want to spend my last hours on earth hating you. And, honestly, if we ever get out of this alive, I want to kiss you like that for many hours.”
“Hours…,” he repeated, his lips brushing her cheek. “Indeed, I could kiss you for hours.”
Lightning cracked across the sky, and they both looked up.
“A warning from the gods.” He scowled.
She released him and turned back toward the wall. “There’s only one way we’re getting out of this alive. We have to find that grimoire and bring it to Cleopatra.”
