Wings of the Wicked
Page 59
I closed my eyes and took a painful breath at those words. It was a possibility that I had for so long refused to acknowledge, the possibility that he would die defending me, just as every one of my past Guardians had. I felt their losses greatly in my heart, but the idea of losing Will hit me to my soul. I opened my eyes once again to meet his beautiful emerald gaze.
“You told me yesterday in my room that this is me, who I’ve always been, but I don’t feel that way,” I said. “Is it me that you love, or is it Gabriel?”
He looked so sad in that instant. “I love this beautiful thing inside of you that makes you human. Your soul, your fragility, your human passion. None of that is Gabriel. It’s all you, Ellie.”
My lips quivered. “If I wasn’t human, would you still love me?”
He gave me the smallest smile. “I’d still love you forever.”
“You know I’m yours,” I whispered, and kissed him softly. He let me step into him without resistance.
“And I’m yours,” he said. “I always have been and always will be.”
I bit my lip. “I know.”
He kissed me then, his lips moving with mine as if they were made for each other. His fingers wound through my hair, and he deepened the kiss further with each passing heartbeat. The sadness receded away from me, and I let myself drown in him instead. Intensity crackled between us and heat rushed through me, longing and desperate. His hands traveled lower, spilling over my shoulders and tightening around my hips. An ache flashed low in my body and a whimper escaped me, a sound that triggered something deep in him as well.
He lifted me off the floor and onto the counter, shoving the plates away and knocking over the glass of orange juice. When he pushed my knees apart, hands running up my thighs and sending a strike of lightning desire up my spine, he crushed his body against mine and I forgot about the mess entirely. His mouth and tongue were hot against my neck, and I buried my hands in his hair as his arms wrapped around me and his fingertips raked down my back. One of his hands found the point of my hip, and his teeth nicked the bend of my neck. I dug my nails into his shoulder and my head fell back, something wild in me craving him. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and ached to tear it off him, to do anything to break down the thin, aggravating barrier of cloth between our skin. I fumbled with the buttons, gasping for breath when his mouth wasn’t on mine, and I pushed his open shirt over his shoulders, my eyes capturing his muscled chest and the tattoos spreading up his arm and the side of his neck.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured against my throat between kisses. “Every time I look at you I feel like I’m about to explode, no matter how still I try to stay around you. Inside I’m like a hurricane. Everything you do … you drive me crazy.” His mouth returned to mine hungrily. “The way you play with the little curls in the ends of your hair.” He kissed me again, his hands squeezing my sides. “The way you wring the hem of your shirt with your fingers and make that little face when you’re deep in thought.” Another kiss and a small, secret smile. His thumbs glided under my shirt, just an inch, and the contact made me gasp and dig my nails into the back of his neck. “Where you touch me it feels like I’m on fire.” Again, he kissed me, long and deep and leisurely.
His hands slipped completely under my shirt, but stayed respectfully around my waist. The sensation of his hot skin on mine numbed my thoughts until my body began to take control, as if it knew exactly what to do. I touched his arms, applying enough pressure to let him know I wanted his hands to keep going. But he was hesitant, careful, and my own feelings were mixed. The more aware I became, the more I questioned what my body wanted. I wanted him, every inch of me did, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go that far yet. A silent war raged between my mind and my body as he kissed me. I pulled back, and the rigidness in his shoulders collapsed, his hands sliding down my sides and resting around my thighs.
I stared into his face, studying every bit of him that I’d known so well for so long. His lips, that perfect full Cupid’s bow. His dark brow, where so much of his intensity came from. His eyes, that gleaming, radioactive green. He wasn’t smiling now, but I remembered the little line that grew beside his right eye whenever he did. I brushed the hair off his forehead—it was a wild mess from my hands anyway—and ran my palm across the two-day-old roughness on his jaw. I rarely saw him perfectly shaved, but I liked it that way. Loved it. Loved him. He didn’t always make the right decisions, but it always turned out okay. Every imperfection he had was perfect. He was perfect to me.
“Ellie,” he sighed, his chest rising and falling with the word. When he said my name, even when he teased me, it was the most wonderful sound in the world. I closed my eyes as he said my name again, this time his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Ellie, I love you. You weren’t supposed to forget that I did. I told you not to.”
I shook my head. “I never forgot.”
If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have stopped what I’d started last night. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so patient with me right now. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t fight so hard for me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t risk his soul for me.
I touched his cheek and lifted his chin so that our eyes met firmly, so that he understood what I said next to be the absolute truth. “I love you, Will.”
He closed his eyes and set his hands down on the counter on either side of me. I wrapped a hand around his cheek and thumbed his jaw gently. He leaned into my hand and kissed my palm.
“You told me yesterday in my room that this is me, who I’ve always been, but I don’t feel that way,” I said. “Is it me that you love, or is it Gabriel?”
He looked so sad in that instant. “I love this beautiful thing inside of you that makes you human. Your soul, your fragility, your human passion. None of that is Gabriel. It’s all you, Ellie.”
My lips quivered. “If I wasn’t human, would you still love me?”
He gave me the smallest smile. “I’d still love you forever.”
“You know I’m yours,” I whispered, and kissed him softly. He let me step into him without resistance.
“And I’m yours,” he said. “I always have been and always will be.”
I bit my lip. “I know.”
He kissed me then, his lips moving with mine as if they were made for each other. His fingers wound through my hair, and he deepened the kiss further with each passing heartbeat. The sadness receded away from me, and I let myself drown in him instead. Intensity crackled between us and heat rushed through me, longing and desperate. His hands traveled lower, spilling over my shoulders and tightening around my hips. An ache flashed low in my body and a whimper escaped me, a sound that triggered something deep in him as well.
He lifted me off the floor and onto the counter, shoving the plates away and knocking over the glass of orange juice. When he pushed my knees apart, hands running up my thighs and sending a strike of lightning desire up my spine, he crushed his body against mine and I forgot about the mess entirely. His mouth and tongue were hot against my neck, and I buried my hands in his hair as his arms wrapped around me and his fingertips raked down my back. One of his hands found the point of my hip, and his teeth nicked the bend of my neck. I dug my nails into his shoulder and my head fell back, something wild in me craving him. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and ached to tear it off him, to do anything to break down the thin, aggravating barrier of cloth between our skin. I fumbled with the buttons, gasping for breath when his mouth wasn’t on mine, and I pushed his open shirt over his shoulders, my eyes capturing his muscled chest and the tattoos spreading up his arm and the side of his neck.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured against my throat between kisses. “Every time I look at you I feel like I’m about to explode, no matter how still I try to stay around you. Inside I’m like a hurricane. Everything you do … you drive me crazy.” His mouth returned to mine hungrily. “The way you play with the little curls in the ends of your hair.” He kissed me again, his hands squeezing my sides. “The way you wring the hem of your shirt with your fingers and make that little face when you’re deep in thought.” Another kiss and a small, secret smile. His thumbs glided under my shirt, just an inch, and the contact made me gasp and dig my nails into the back of his neck. “Where you touch me it feels like I’m on fire.” Again, he kissed me, long and deep and leisurely.
His hands slipped completely under my shirt, but stayed respectfully around my waist. The sensation of his hot skin on mine numbed my thoughts until my body began to take control, as if it knew exactly what to do. I touched his arms, applying enough pressure to let him know I wanted his hands to keep going. But he was hesitant, careful, and my own feelings were mixed. The more aware I became, the more I questioned what my body wanted. I wanted him, every inch of me did, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go that far yet. A silent war raged between my mind and my body as he kissed me. I pulled back, and the rigidness in his shoulders collapsed, his hands sliding down my sides and resting around my thighs.
I stared into his face, studying every bit of him that I’d known so well for so long. His lips, that perfect full Cupid’s bow. His dark brow, where so much of his intensity came from. His eyes, that gleaming, radioactive green. He wasn’t smiling now, but I remembered the little line that grew beside his right eye whenever he did. I brushed the hair off his forehead—it was a wild mess from my hands anyway—and ran my palm across the two-day-old roughness on his jaw. I rarely saw him perfectly shaved, but I liked it that way. Loved it. Loved him. He didn’t always make the right decisions, but it always turned out okay. Every imperfection he had was perfect. He was perfect to me.
“Ellie,” he sighed, his chest rising and falling with the word. When he said my name, even when he teased me, it was the most wonderful sound in the world. I closed my eyes as he said my name again, this time his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Ellie, I love you. You weren’t supposed to forget that I did. I told you not to.”
I shook my head. “I never forgot.”
If he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have stopped what I’d started last night. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so patient with me right now. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t fight so hard for me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t risk his soul for me.
I touched his cheek and lifted his chin so that our eyes met firmly, so that he understood what I said next to be the absolute truth. “I love you, Will.”
He closed his eyes and set his hands down on the counter on either side of me. I wrapped a hand around his cheek and thumbed his jaw gently. He leaned into my hand and kissed my palm.
