The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,56
my pulse picks and races through me.
"One…"
Cold air burns down my throat, filling my lungs. A shudder shakes my entire body.
"Two..."
My arm is wrenched forward, my body quickly toppling forward. I shriek as my feet leave the safety of the boat. The only comfort is how tightly Lincoln's hand holds mine. Our grips are locked together and even as we crash into the swell of water they can't be torn apart. If Cordelia couldn't keep us away from one another, no force of nature could. Not even death can tear us apart.
Pinpricks of ice dig into every inch of my skin like a thousand frosty daggers. Blades made from the shocking cold slice through my skin, down to my bone. Everywhere. I try to stretch for one more breath of air, but the ocean swallows us whole. Water covers my head. Sea salt stings inside of my nose as I try to hold my breath.
Our bodies whip and spin as a current circulates around us. It funnels like a maelstrom as its suction pulls us down to the depths of water, where I'm certain only deadly and ancient creatures dwell. The deeper we go, the closer the chaos of the current brings our bodies together. My knees crack against Lincoln's and whatever air I hold inside my lungs is pushed roughly from my body as our chests collide.
He wraps his arms around me, clinging my slender form to the width of his muscle. There's a shameful spike of fear that washes through his thoughts. A regret that maybe we'd done the wrong thing. Lincoln doesn't mourn with the idea of his death. Doesn't so much as ponder the idea. No. It's me. It's always been me. Then it hits me. Hard. More powerful than the ache in my lungs.
Lincoln's spine goes ramrod straight. I stiffen too. My body shifts from the icy cold to sweltering hot. Each cut of the ocean fades with a tingling sensation that vibrates every cell in my body. Lightning bolts of pleasure, leg quaking, back arching, almost so good you need to run away from it, euphoria strikes. I can feel my eyes roll to the back of my head, the last remaining bit of air escaping me in a bubbly moan. Fireworks of gratification shoot from the heat between my legs and travel up into my chest then back down into my feet. My toes curl. I suck more water in, not even registering the hurt of it flowing into my lungs, when all I want to do is cry out with unbridled joy.
I gasp. Twitching, as my body is hit with rotating waves of hot and cold. I'd always imagined death would be peaceful. I never thought that it would be... enjoyable. Satisfying, even.
Only when the rush that has consumed every fiber of my being slows, eventually fading to a slight static tingle that snaps the bonds between Lincoln and I taut do I realize cool air fills my chest. I take a large breath to be certain. There is light on the other side of my closed eyelids. Lincoln's hand is still in mine, but has slipped enough that we only cling to each other with the stubbornness of the tips of our fingers.
I can hear him take a sharp breath next to me. I crack one eye. The green limbs of trees and the yellow sun spin in circles above me.
"Is this hell?" I open my other eye. Something hard pokes at my spine. With my free hand I dig underneath me and pull out a thick stick, looking at it for a second before I toss it away. Not a single ounce of water has been retained in my clothing. I pat myself, making sure every part of me is still attached and that nothing is bleeding.
"Fuck. Damn. Shit. Gods above. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Lincoln lets go of me to grab his temples. He sits up, his knees bent in front of him.
I lay flat on the ground. So we aren't dead? This is real? I press my palms against the earth, just trying to convince myself I'm not in the ocean any longer.
"Is that all the curse words you know? I feel like you can be more creative than that."
"Motherfucker. Bitchtits. Bollocks."
I lift myself up on my elbows, looking over at him. What is wrong? "I knew you could do it."
Ziko’s eyelashes flutter and he sways. "I'm going to pass out."