Wings of the Wicked - By Courtney Allison Moulton Page 0,142

go someplace that’s not here.”

I bounced the idea around inside my head, but it was very difficult to think with him kissing me the way he was. I wanted to say yes to him, to agree to anything that he suggested, but something other than desire made me question what I really wanted. I wasn’t afraid of having sex with him—that wasn’t what it was. I just … it wasn’t right yet. It wasn’t the right time. I wasn’t ready yet.

“I don’t …” I started, and felt him tense immediately. “No, Will.”

He studied my face, his green eyes gentle and not full of anger or annoyance. “Okay.”

I could feel the scarlet rushing into my cheeks. “Just for right now.”

He gave me a genuine smile and pulled his hands out away from my skin. “Of course.” He kissed me sweetly and made a real attempt at cleaning up the frosting on my cheek with his thumb. “How did you even get this on your face? Were you shoving the whole piece into your mouth?”

“No,” I grumbled at him, feeling the awkwardness wash away. He made me feel completely at ease. “I think it had a whole reaper body on it, so there was a lot of frosting. Don’t judge me.”

“I never judge you.”

“You’re judging me right now,” I retorted. “You’d better be nice to me or I’ll never make you another root beer float again, which means no more root beer float kisses.”

He laughed. “That’s a little harsh.”

“What was your favorite food before root beer floats were invented?” I asked curiously.

He gave me a weird look and shrugged. “I don’t know. Food was terrible before people started putting lots of chemicals and artificial flavors into it to make it taste better. I guess I’ve always like carrots a lot.”

“Carrots?” I blurted out, gaping at him. “Your other favorite food is carrots? What is wrong with you?”

“Hey now, you were just getting mad at me for being judgmental. Don’t be a hypocrite. Besides, carrots have a very pleasant taste when they aren’t sour.”

I ignored that remark. “Please tell me there is some other food that you like more than carrots.”

“I suppose I like strawberries a lot, too,” he offered.

I rolled my eyes. “I will never understand you.”

“I know what your favorite food is,” he challenged.

“Oh?”

“Cold Stone,” he said with a grin. “Cold Stone anything.”

My grin matched his, and I slipped my arms around his waist. “You know me too well.”

31

BEFORE I EVEN EXITED THE SCHOOL BUILDING ON Monday afternoon, I sensed him. Instead of continuing toward the student parking lot, I veered left and eased toward the tree he stood under, protecting himself from the sunlight. I ignored the stares and whispers of students behind me and smiled carefully at him. Cadan gave me a warm smile in return, his pale gold hair shining even in the shade and blowing gently in the spring breeze. I stopped under the tree with him, lugging my backpack higher over my shoulder.

“Hello,” he said, his voice as gentle as his smile.

“Hello,” I said back, resisting the urge to reach for him and hold him close. The events from the last time I had seen him replayed over in my head, everything he had said and done. All that he had risked, and how courageous he’d been to stand up to his father. I couldn’t tell him how much I had admired him, or how much I cared about him, or how much sadness I felt in my heart for him.

Things were far more awkward than I’d ever wanted them to be between us, but after all that we’d been through together, how could it be any different? We’d seen each other at our most vulnerable, and there was nothing to hide anymore. I cared about him—and I had never cared about a demonic reaper before. He had told me that he was in love with me. This was new for the both of us.

“How are you, Cadan?” I asked, forcing myself to say something, anything.

He shrugged. “Could be better. How have you been?”

Even though he held his emotions firmly, the affection in his gaze as he looked at me was obvious and comforting. “Tired,” I confessed. “Finding it hard to return to a normal life.”

“Your life will never be normal.”

I frowned a little. “Not all of it, no. But it’s all relative, I guess. I have two lives, but each is its own kind of normal. I just need to learn how not to let