lot of people,” I assure her. “And actually, seeing as we have this place to ourselves…”
I lower myself to the floor, taking her down with me, until we’re both sprawled and share a perfect view of the rotunda’s mural.
“Talk about spectacle and glory,” she mutters with no small amount of awe.
“All the panels were painted back in the thirties by a guy named Hugo Ballin. The big circle in the middle illustrates the gods and goddesses of the zodiac signs, wielded in the sky by Atlas.” I point up to the different places on the mural as I speak. “The Pleiades are also there, and then he’s got Jupiter—or Zeus, depending on whether you’re feeling Greek or Roman.”
“Zeus. Huh.” Her thoughtful murmur seems layered with new meaning. Or is that just my heightened senses working overtime? A misplaced interpretation of her rasp on the still air? The battle I’m still waging, now more than ever, not to clutch her close, kiss her senseless, and give her whispered promises of more?
As a result, I default to Professor Maximus mode. When the occasion fits…
“Ballin wasn’t exactly shattering boxes with the concept,” I explain. “Many of the constellations were named after the gods because the ancients believed the gods moved among them. Each god and goddess was given a place in the sky to honor them and to therefore appease them. The bigger the deity, the larger the constellation.” I gaze up at the huge dome dominated by the cathedral-like art. “No less of a crazy theory than gods walking the earth and conspiring with humans, I guess.”
Kara shifts her weight, lifting herself to gaze down at me. “Crazy? Why?” she prompts. “Just because the theory belongs to an ancient civilization? Because it’s all called mythology and not literature? Because science and facts don’t directly support it as proven history?”
I don’t answer her at first. I think I’m waiting for her to crack a just-kidding grin. When she doesn’t budge, I challenge her. “What are you saying? That you believe there’s a bunch of superbeings cavorting around in the sky when they’re not snacking on nectar on Mount Olympus?”
“I’m saying that there are lots of things in the world—in the universe—that you can’t begin to understand or explain away.”
“All right,” I drawl. “I’ll bite. Like what?”
“Like the Bermuda Triangle,” she says at once. “And the Nazca Lines and Bigfoot and déjà vu.” And then she’s leaning over, reworking our hands so they’re entwined again, so that the energy, so bizarre and insane but bright and beautiful, flares between us again. “Like us, Maximus,” she whispers. “Like…this.”
Too late, I realize that I’m not breathing. There’s something bizarre and forbidden and different about Kara Valari. But something warm and familiar and right too.
So damn right…
Whoever she really is, sharing this time together has only sharpened the yearning to figure her out. To know all her secrets, even as she helps me discover all of mine. But before that, there’s a much more urgent purpose. I need to kiss the hell out of her. No matter how thoroughly I’m terrified to.
I reach up and pull her ponytail free, then sift my fingers through the silky strands until I’m cupping the back of her head. Slowly, I guide her down to me. I’m too eager for the lips that have just formed those words. In this moment, they resound in my mind like a declaration of freedom and in my heart like a manifesto of truth.
Because something tells me, as she forms her mouth over mine, that the two of us really are barely scratching at the first layer of a deeper truth. Terrified to go any further—but more terrified of what will happen if we don’t.
Chapter Thirteen
Kara
Kissing Maximus is a thought-robbing endeavor. For all the way he stimulates my mind, being this close to him makes me quickly forget about the other ways we match. Seconds ago, my thoughts were weaving through the constellations, deep in myth and mystery—all things I’ve spent my academic life contemplating along with the truths I already know.
Now I’m all blood and hot skin and clawing need. Human. Demon. Possibly a dangerous combination of both. Emboldened, I skim my hand down the front of his shirt and tease my fingertips under the hem. His muscles jump and clench the higher I go. Our mouths unlock just enough that his moaning exhale warms my lips. I wonder if it’s the kiss or the small touch that’s undoing him. Then his free hand