Endless Magic (46 page)

He loved me. No, he more than loved me; every beat of his heart was dedicated to me. I had broken him, but he woke every day with the desire to become a more worthy man for me. I started to shove further into his feelings, obsessed with getting to the bottom of every minute detail when he finally found the strength to push me out of his head.

Our minds separated with forceful closure. I stood a few feet away from him, trembling and distraught. Our emotions had been one and the same and now that we were disconnected I couldn’t distinguish his from mine. My blood rushed hot with his consuming love, with his adamant devotion. And when I dared to meet his eyes, they were like an open book, raw and ravenous with love for me.

I moved forward before I could analyze my actions and threw myself down on him, desperate to return his desire with what I was sure was left over remnants of being in his mind. My blood pumped with his consuming craving, my heart beat with the pounding love he felt for me, my ears rang with the desperate longing that plagued him. I straddled myself across his lap and gathered the collar of his shirt in both my hands. My breathing was heavy and my heart beat violently against my chest. I stared into his eyes for only a moment, noticing their hope, their anticipation, before pressing my mouth against his and letting him take me away in his desire.

He kissed me passionately, in a way I had never been kissed before. He tilted his body to mold against mind, tangling his hands through my hair and pressing me against him. My stomach jumped at his fervor, his unrelenting hunger. He sighed against my lips, an exhale of breath that made his chest heave.

I moved my hands from his shirt to caress his face and I felt him shiver under my touch. I kissed him bravely, deeply, his emotions still mixed with mine and I couldn’t distinguish what I was feeling and what were leftovers from him. My mouth moved against his, mimicking his passion and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His magic flared to life at my willingness, at my reciprocated desire and found mine almost aggressively, forcing it to mingle.

With my magic out of control and wrapped solidly in his, Kiran stood up, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his mouth refusing to leave mine. He laid me gently on the couch, slowly bringing his body down to mine. His hands moved over my skin, finding my waist and slipping under my tank top, pulling my body up to meet his and then pressing his back against mine and deep into the couch.

My hands moved against his shirt, tugging at the hem and lifting it over his head. Our lips separated for only a moment before he brought his mouth crashing against mine again, his feverishly hot skin blanketing my bear arms, sending tremors down my spine.

I gasped for air and so he let me breathe, kissing my jaw line and my ear, working his way down my neck and across my collarbones to the other side of my neck and back up. I shivered against his kisses, my magic lost in his, but slowly, methodically I came back to my senses.

Our magics were still mixed, but his emotions were almost absent from mine and reality came hurtling against my brain, demanding to know what I was doing.

Kiran’s kisses had slowed, but not out of exhaustion. No, these kisses were even more dangerous. He worked his way across my jaw, finding the corner of my mouth and then kissing me fully on the lips, slowly, seductively. I gave in for a second more, playfully biting his lower lip gently and opening my mouth for a deeper kiss. He groaned desperately, pressing his forehead against mine as his mouth worked in enticing, tormenting kisses, begging for more. His hands moved up my stomach, taking my tank top with it and I snapped back to reality, realizing in full what I had done.

I tensed at his movement, my mouth retracting from his with fear. He pulled back from me, instantly understanding my mood change. He hovered over me, his eyes changing from frantic passion to overwhelming heartache.

I ignored the breaking of my own heart, the cold that seeped into my bones at his absence. He moved off me, allowing me to pull down my shirt and sit up, scooting to the other side of the couch. Tears pounded against my eyelids, but I shook my head, determined not to reveal how truly affected I was.

“I…. I’m sorry,” I whispered, and he recoiled painfully at my words. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, and then the kiss….” I explained weakly, knowing full well the word “kiss” could not even begin to describe the passion he poured into me.

“Don’t, Eden,” he winced, his voice harsh and raspy.

“No, Kiran listen, I just…. I shouldn’t have done that to your mind…. And I shouldn’t have kissed you. I could just feel everything you were feeling and it overwhelmed me….” I rushed on; hoping to make him understand those weren’t my real feelings.

“Please stop,” he begged, looking up at the ceiling and raking both hands through his hair.

“I just want you to understand, that…. That obviously I just broke up with Jericho…. I still have feelings for him and I don’t…. I don’t feel that way about you….” I dug for the courage to look at him, to meet his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me.

“Enough,” he growled and stood up. He lunged for his t-shirt that was behind my head. I cowered underneath him, hating that I could smell him, hating that my stomach jumped as I inhaled him. But he didn’t linger, he got his shirt and stalked toward the door.

At the door he pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling with the effort and then yanked the door open. I pulled my knees to my chest in a gut reaction and flinched when he turned back to face me. “You’re wrong, by the way,” he stated simply and then slammed the door behind him.

I sunk back in the couch, letting the tears escape that I held back for too long. These tears weren’t for Jericho; they weren’t even for Amory or the rebellion. They were for Kiran. I couldn’t distinguish if they were grief or hurt or longing, but they came in choking sobs that racked my body.

I cried like that for a long time, fully mourning the feelings and memories that were not exclusive to Kiran’s heart alone, that were born in my heart as well and stayed deeply rooted in my veins and magic. And then I lay down on the couch and wiped my eyes. There had been way too many tears for one day. I reminded myself of the war, of those prisoners underneath the castle, and with determined resolve I would not shed another tear over another boy until Lucan was dead, I fell asleep.

I shot off the couch at the sound of pans being banged together. I slept through the night, and until Kiran’s movements in the kitchen I forgot where I was. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, I rubbed my eyes and sent magic through me to fully wake my senses. I turned around to face Kiran, not sure what to expect but braving the consequences for my actions yesterday.

“Good morning,” he smiled chirpily at me from across the house, cooking something that smelled suspiciously like bacon on the stove.

“Good morning….” I replied distrustfully.

“Are you hungry? I’m making breakfast,” Kiran explained. I expected wrath and retaliation this morning, not breakfast…. What was going on?

“Yes, I am actually,” I admitted, rubbing my stomach greedily.

“Would you like to change while I finish up?” Kiran asked, looking up at me from the stove. “I don’t have much that will fit you, but I laid out some clothes on my bed upstairs that I think will work, if you want.” He shrugged as if it were totally up to me. I looked down at my stretched out tank top and jeans I had been wearing for the last three days. Of course, I wanted to change.

I pointed upstairs and he nodded his head permissively. I turned my back on the bacon and walked slowly upstairs, afraid to enter another one of Kiran’s bedrooms. At the top of the stairs, I paused to take it all in.

Light streamed in from open windows on every wall, casting long light beams across a king-sized bed that took up the middle of the loft. The bed had tall, thick posters that matched all of the other furniture, intricately chiseled with careful knife work. One long and one tall dresser took up one wall, made in the same style and a handcrafted writing desk sat against another wall, under a large picture window. I peeked into a modern, luxurious bathroom and then ran back to grab the clothes Kiran lay out on the end of his bed.

In the bathroom I took a quick shower, using his razor to shave my embarrassing legs and then rinsed it thoroughly, deciding to keep that a secret. I used his shampoo on my hair and then his soap that I regretted instantly. Not only was it manly and too strong for me, it smelled just like him and I knew it would stay with me all day.

I hopped out of the shower quickly, remembering the bacon, and dried off together with a towel hanging next to the shower and my magic. I styled my hair the same way, and regretted that my eyeliner waited for me back at the castle. I sighed, convincing myself it didn’t matter and slipped into a plain black t-shirt he left for me and sweatpants that were much too big. I rolled the waist so that they would stay up and took in my appearance in the mirror.

Well, it would do. I grabbed my ponytail holder and threw my hair up in a knot on top of my head, disappointed to hide how tamed it looked after I styled it, but deciding down was just too formal with my sweatpants. I slipped a pair of Kiran’s flip flops on, instead of my gladiator sandals and walked out of the bathroom, feeling very refreshed.

At the bottom of the stairs, I paused to watch Kiran finish setting the table. He stood back from the place setting he just laid down and nodded his head to affirm its perfection. I cleared my throat so he would notice I returned and watched him jump a little, startled at me catching him.

His surprise quickly turned into charm and he smiled at me. He watched me walk toward him, looking me over in his clothes and his expression turned into something more…. something like pride.

He pulled the chair out for me and I sat down, still not sure what to think of his behavior. He took the seat at the head of the table so that we sat adjacent to each other. Our plates were already filled with bacon and eggs and homemade hash browns so I followed his lead and dug in.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, but I hadn’t eaten at all yesterday and his food was delicious. He watched me with morbid curiosity as I finished everything on my plate and reached for his last piece of bacon without asking.

“You know what I mean…. Are we Ok after yesterday?” I mumbled that last half of my sentence, my cheeks blushing from my own memories.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kiran admitted, his eyes dancing amusedly. He was seriously going to make me say the words.

“Is everything all right between us after we….” I cleared my throat and forced myself to find courage, “after we kissed.”

“Ah,” he pretended to finally understand. “Well, I think that’s up to you. You were the one upset by what happened, not me.” His eyes moved over me hungrily and I clasped my hand to my throat in anxiety.

“I know,” I rushed forward, “but I just didn’t want things to, you know, get weird between us.” I admitted honestly, but inwardly admitting to myself that I liked having Kiran as a friend, just not anything more.

“Define weird,” Kiran commanded mulling over my words carefully.

“You know, like, um, awkward or…. tense,” I explained, making things the exact opposite of what I wanted to convey to him I didn’t want.

“Oh, I see,” he understood. “Well, I don’t know if they’ll be awkward or tense, but I have come to some conclusions that I think I should make you aware of.” I gulped and he continued, “Before yesterday, Eden, I was punishing myself. I truly believed I didn’t deserve your forgiveness and that I didn’t deserve you.”

He paused, waiting for me to react, but I was stuck on the words, “until yesterday,” and so I sat stone still and echoed them in a harsh whisper, “Until yesterday?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Call it what you want, but I think yesterday opened both our eyes. Mine, maybe more than yours, but I can work with that,” he smiled devilishly at me. “Before yesterday I was content to move at your pace, to wait patiently on you.”

“And you’re not, uh, content with that anymore?” I filled in the blanks, feeling more fear than I thought would be necessary for someone just explaining their feelings.

“Exactly. From now on, I’m going to try,” he confessed confidently.

“Try?” I repeated meekly.

“Yes, try. I not only deserve your forgiveness, I think I already have it. Although, I’m not going to wait idly around for it anymore. If one day, you would like to forgive me then I will happily accept it, but I don’t need it anymore to pursue you. You will love me again, Eden. It’s fine if you’re not ready now, or if you want time to get over Jericho or whatever. But know, that I will not be patient anymore. I will not wait around until you come to me. You are much too stubborn for that…. I don’t think there is enough time in the rest of eternity for me to wait for you,” he finished, his eyes sparkling and that damn smirk back on his face.

I gulped and clasped trembling hands together, truly terrified of him. Once upon a time, Jericho had a very similar conversation with me, when I was still getting over Kiran. Only when Jericho admitted he planned to pursue me, he gave me hope; I looked forward to falling for him. For whatever reason, Kiran had the opposite effect on me. I trembled with anxiety at his determination and lost all courage when he looked at me like that. “I think we should go back to the castle,” I suggested firmly.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of holding you prisoner here,” Kiran laughed. “Although, I prefer this to the Citadel….” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “We will go back this afternoon, but first I’m going to teach you how to shoot a gun.”