The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (highly recommended books txt) 📗

That made Aidan laugh. “Slaíne, it’s fine. You’re over-scrupulous, I am sure. Have just a taste.” He tried again, and this time managed to get it to her mouth.

The girl mashed her lips closed, causing the liquid to pour down her front, and she didn’t seem to breathe again until he pulled the jug away. “You look – red.”

“Do I?” He did feel rather warm, but it was nothing to grow alarmed about. Aidan undid his collar, letting his shirt gape open. Still he felt as though on fire. Well, that would not do. Flushed and lightheaded, Aidan pulled the entire garment over his head and cast it aside. Slaíne cleared her throat, and he looked at her sideways. “Is something wrong?”

She rolled her eyes and looked away.

Aidan laughed. True, on any normal day, he would hold to decorum. He was, after all, a gentleman, and Slaíne, like anyone, deserved respect. But today…something had changed. What was it?

“Did ya find anything out?”

Slaíne’s voice sent a burning jolt through Aidan’s body, and he jerked to attention. “Say that again,” he said without looking at her. His whole being thrummed, aware of her, her Pull, where she was situated. If he wanted, he could reach out his hand and….

“I said, did ya find anything?”

Something inside of Aidan snapped. Or broke loose. He let the pieces go with a sigh, and embraced his feelings with a feral pleasure. Aidan turned to her. “What do you believe of fate?”

“Fate?”

He moved in closer. “Destiny.”

For a moment, Slaíne seemed ready to laugh. But something in his declaration must have alerted her to the fact that he was serious. Her brow furrowed. “Are you drunk or somethin’?”

It was his turn to laugh and he did. Aidan went from giddy and lightheaded to profoundly absorbed with the sight of her lips in the span of three seconds’ time. He stared at those two rosy gems, the desire to do something roiling through his being. What was he feeling? There must be a name for it. And yet, as he took her face in his hands, he could not name it, nor did he care.

“What’re you doing?” Her voice was thin; Aidan held on to the sound in his mind as he brought his lips to hers. They were soft, supple, warm. He moaned into her open mouth.

She bit him.

He grinned against her touch, even as she drew blood. Aidan deepened the kiss, his hands tangling in her hair, stroking her face, wishing and willing her to kiss him back. She did not.

His heart took off at a mad pace, and the hands which had held her face dared to wander further. Aidan wondered at himself as he took her by the waist and took to kissing her throat. This was unexpected. Pleasant beyond words, but unexpected.

“What’re you doing?” she repeated, her words icy needles that almost brought Aidan back to his senses. Almost. When he didn’t pause nor come up for air, she spat at him. “Get off!”

Somewhere, the music hit a sour note and voices were raised in higher laughter. But Aidan didn’t care about them. Wounded, he peered up at her. What had he done wrong?

“Get off,” she repeated.

Perhaps he was a fool, but Aidan felt no desire to move just then, even as he began to wonder if he had lost his senses. Something about this whole thing just felt right. Slaíne, on the other hand, did not seem to share that sentiment.

“You’ll ruin it.”

“No,” he protested, guilt clenching his gut. “Please don’t say that.”

She was crying now, great big tears running down her pale face. “I don’ know what’s gotten into you, sir.” She jerked away as he leaned in again, hoping to appease her. “Oh, you’ll ruin it all. Don’t. Get off. Get away from me.” With each word, her voice rose in pitch until she was nearly screaming like a mad woman.

Sad that he had offended her apparently, Aidan pulled away, lowered his gaze, and moved off to the other side of the enclosure. And just like that, he was hit with a wave of vertigo, and crawled out into the open, vomiting.

Chapter Seven

Four hours onward – though it could’ve been more – Aidan lay outside the enclosure, fit to do nothing but doze, as whatever he had drunk still tormented his body. His head ached. His stomach roiled. Every nerve in his body seemed to fire and misfire. Every muscle convulsed now and then, making voluntary movement impractical, if not impossible.

And for that time, Slaíne said nothing. Not that Aidan blamed her. What had he been thinking, making such advances? It was the water he’d drunk. It had to be. That couldn’t have been him kissing the girl of his own volition…could it? On and off he warred with his needs and wants, half-wanting to repeat his actions, half-wanting to repent. He would have to apologize when he felt himself again, that was a given. But was he really sorry?

Aidan turned the sentiment over in his mind, and the findings startled him. He’d enjoyed the experience. In fact, he still enjoyed the memory, except for inflicting obvious pain. “I’m an idiot,” he groaned audibly, uncaring as to whether she’d heard him or not. This was all pure nonsense. A distraction. It mattered not, and he would do well to push these foolish urges aside.

By the time the sun should have been setting, the land surrounding them remained as bright as day. Aidan felt more himself with each passing hour, but he was still weak in more ways than one.

At last he was able to pull himself to his knees with a shiver. Aidan dragged himself back to the enclosure, unsurprised to find Slaíne asleep and snoring. His grimace turned into a grin, and he fought himself as he put his shirt back on, not bothering with his collar. Their captors had made no contact with them, which was a suspicious sign. Something told Aidan they were being watched and perhaps listened