Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,90

the golden doorknobs turns.

Then … my Nico.

Like a tidal wave, those anxious wasps morph into the lightest, most delicate butterflies.

They’re different from the ones I’ve grown used to invading my space at unexpected and inopportune moments.

Dorian’s butterflies are deep, dark green and reflective, like a pantera’s scales under the sunlight. They’re menacing at first until you realize they’re harmless, and then you hope one lands on your hand. That it’ll stay there forever to keep you company. To protect you.

But Nico’s butterflies are the faintest pink, nearly white. Opalescent. Pristine and innocent and oh so lovely. They’re light and fluttery, and if I collected enough of them they’d envelop me in the softest blanket ever.

His hair’s a mess, there’s a scrape down the side of his forehead, a bruise over his cheekbone. But his eyes … dark, that of a stallion, so, so very strong.

He looks like he’s been through hell—and he might be thinking the same of me—but he’s smiling, and I’m doing everything I can to barely keep myself from bounding into his arms.

Nico offers his hand and I take it.

It’s so warm, so soft, so Nico.

And I’m home.

CHAPTER 21

NICO

My hands were shaking as I opened the door—I both hoped and dreaded it was Veda.

The minute I saw it was her?

All of that fell away and the only thing left was how relieved and safe and at peace I am in her presence. It’s like I can finally breathe again. Like I’ve been drowning in this palace, suffocating from this role I’m playing, and I hadn’t even noticed until Veda forced me to draw breath.

Hand in hand we walk farther into my room. The only light right now is a single lantern and the glistening of the moon off the icy snow outside through the large windows.

We settle side by side on the settee at the foot of the bed.

She’s smiling like she wants to say something but for some reason isn’t. Then, finally, searching the room with her eyes, she blurts out, “This is … big.”

I laugh and she laughs, and then, as if she’s been smothering the urge for ages, she launches herself into my arms.

The first thing I notice is how her hair doesn’t push into my face like it used to. It’s short, cut close to her neck, but it’s because of this that my nose, my lips graze her skin and I’m able to take in the essence of Veda. The sweet of honey with a hint of sea salt mixed in for good measure plus the freshness of sunrise flowers. Always.

And when we pull away her eyes are soft as if she’s as intoxicated from this meeting as I am.

My head swims over how much I want to say and do and that I know we have such little time.

“Nico…” But she stops with a sigh. “Hang on—” Veda tugs the baker’s bonnet off her head and easily slips out of the uniform so she more resembles the Veda I’ve come to know. Not the Veda of my childhood. Not even the Veda of one month ago. “That’s better.” She breathes and then looks down where the buttons of my tunic are open at my chest. Instantly her eyes dart back up to mine and I fight a smile.

She glances away and even under the dim lamplight I watch as blush warms her cheeks. Veda gazes right back at me. “I’ve missed you so much.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she takes my hands in hers. “My Moon, I can’t believe I’m here.”

“I can’t believe it either.” I move closer, squeeze her hands tighter. “Am I dreaming? Because, honestly, at this point, I’m not sure what’s real and what’s illusion anymore.”

Her eyes go soft like she knows exactly to what I’m referring. “This must be so hard—being here,” she takes a long look around the room, “having to pretend … Wait—” She sits up straighter. “The battle…” She examines me as if searching for wounds. “Are you all right?” Once again she leans closer, wraps her arms around me, and this time especially, I never want to leave her embrace.

Too soon she pulls away, and I realize by the way she stares that my eyes must be glistening.

She shakes her head. “Nico…” Veda’s voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper.

At the sound of my name leaving her lips, beyond any control I still possess, the stitches I’d sewn to keep all of my feelings under wraps tear open. I spill everything