Spring (Evermore Academy #2) - Audrey Grey Page 0,51
at the thought of being owned by the Darken, body and soul.
“If they knew for sure,” Valerian says, his voice soft, “they would already have you. But they don’t know . . . yet.”
Yet. There’s that dang word again.
My fingers flutter over my chest as I work to drag air into my lungs. My body is both hot and cold. My belly twists. I have no idea why, after everything that’s happened recently, this is what’s sending me into a full-blown panic attack.
But the one thing I know for sure is that I would die before I brought the Darken back. Even without my memories, something inside me must still remember him, and icy dread slithers through my insides at the thought of him returning.
I clutch my neck as bile slams into my throat.
Valerian growls, the sound a low warning rattle . . . and also an order to leave seeing how everyone flees at once. Even poor banana hammock Gaius.
Valerian is suddenly in front of my stool, calling my name. I try to meet his worried face but darkness swirls around my vision.
I can’t breathe. The air—it’s so thin. My heart pounding into my skull.
“Summer.” His voice warbles in my ears from the end of a tunnel. I feel his cool hand press into my chest, just above my heart. The other slips under my chin and lifts my face to his. “Summer, look at me.”
The second our eyes meet, a surge of crisp white stillness spears through my core, driving back the mindless fear, the sticky black cloud of desperation. The brilliant light grows brighter. Clearing my spirit of darkness and hopelessness.
A delicious warmth blossoms, filling my limbs, my torso, my toes with a hollow, throbbing ache.
Just as that ache begins to center between my thighs, he jerks his hands away and steps back until we’re no longer touching.
The light vanishes, sending me crashing back to reality. I fight the stab of disappointment, grateful that my panic is gone. “What was that?”
His jaw clenches. “It’s called melding, and only soulbound mates can use it. Usually, it’s done the first time the soulbond is . . . consummated, but in a less intimate situation, it can be used to calm.”
Shimmer save me, I can’t imagine the intimacy required to look someone in the eye the entire time you make love to them. My body can, though, and it shivers with delight at the idea.
Crossing my thighs, I say, “Thank you.”
He forces his focus to a spot just over my shoulder. “Summer, I’ve been thinking about what happened during the hunt. If I had forced you into becoming permanently mated to me against your will before you were ready—” He scrapes a hand through his hair, sending droplets flying, before meeting my eyes. “When we consummate our bond, it will be both our decisions.”
I focus on the way the last of the fading sunlight dances across the pool’s surface rather than see the intense desire brimming inside his eyes. “And what if I decide I never want to consummate the bond?”
He goes still, but when I finally look up, there’s no anger inside his face, only amusement. “I promise you, there will come a time when you realize we’re meant to be together for eternity, Princess. And when you do, when you finally accept what you know is true, I’m going to lock you away and spend a full week proving you made the right decision.”
Holy hell. Heat floods my chest all the way to my ears. But instead of backing down, the hooker inside me pops her head out and teases, “A whole week? Are you sure you don’t mean more like five minutes?”
His wicked grin is a thing of beauty. “On second thought, perhaps I’ll make you beg first.”
Okay, dangerous territory. I cross my arms over my chest. “That will never happen.”
“Challenge accepted.” He rakes his gaze over my stomach before dragging his focus back to my face. “You said that you want to know me before you commit your soul to me. So I propose a trial where we can do just that. One night a week, after our training session, we spend thirty minutes together just . . . talking.” He frowns at that but continues. “You can ask me questions about my life or whatever you want to know. No physical touching beyond what’s needed for training and such—at least”—a devilish look sparks in his eyes—“not until you tell me otherwise.”