Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Fable Forest is a storybook, and he is the storyteller who knows all the side quests.
He stops before tall green iron gates. Gold letters curl across a sign: Fable Forest Botanical Gardens.
“Oh,” I whisper. “A garden.”
Inside is a cathedral of chlorophyll and perfume. Palms arch and gossip. Ferns unfurl like secrets. We visit a corpse flower that smells like a crime scene (I gag, he grins, we flee), then lean into oleander that promises heaven with every breath. We don’t touch them; he explains why with a stern teacher face that I will dream about later. He knows their names, their habits, their moods. He speaks about plants the way I speak about currents.
I fall a little in love with a hundred leaves and, somehow, a little more with the man translating them for me. When he reaches past me to read a placard, his chest grazes my shoulder, and I swear the air pulses.
By the time we step back into the street, the light has mellowed to honey. The town hums around us, content. So, apparently, am I.
“Ready to go home?” he asks. “Ricky dropped off some clothes for you. We can go out shopping later, but if you’re tired, we can stay in.”
“I think staying in sounds wonderful,” I say, sliding into his car when he opens the door. “As long as it’s all right with Kara.”
“She doesn’t mind.” His mouth tilts. “I think she’s playing matchmaker.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, and when he looks at me—unguarded, hopeful—I feel my heart do a foolish, gorgeous thing.
“No,” he says simply, and starts the car.
Back at his house, he leads me down a hall and opens a door. “This is your room for now. Ricky left some bags.”
I perch on the bed, eyeing the bags like they might purr if I pet them, then forget them completely when Everett sits beside me. The air between us gets bright and crackly—storm-light without the thunder. I forget to breathe and don’t mind much.
“So,” he says, voice low, thumb brushing a curl behind my ear, his warm fingertips lingering against the soft hollow beneath it, “why did you kiss me when you rescued me?”
His question takes me by surprise. “What?”
He smiles, hungry and tender at once, and my bones turn to warm sand. “Why did you kiss me, Ariel?”
“Because I wanted to,” I say, ridiculously honest. I tuck my head against his shoulder to listen for his heartbeat—it’s fast. Good. I’m not the only one short on oxygen in a room with plenty of air.
Everett’s laugh is a breath. His hand slides down my side and settles at my waist, his fingers curving like they were made to mold my curves. “That’s a good reason.” He hesitates. “Are you… a corporate spy?”
I rear back, scandalized. “I don’t even know what that is.” I scramble for a safer truth. “I used to watch you from the”—lake, lake, lake—“woods. I watched other people too. They left messes. I cleaned up after them.”
“Water nymph,” he says, satisfied.
I let the label rest between us like a truce I didn’t earn but will take anyway. His gaze drops to my mouth. Mine drops to his. It’s gravity, not choice.
“You know why Kara and I won’t work,” he murmurs. “We’re not attracted to each other. I want a soulmate, and she isn’t it. But you…”
I rise to my knees and kiss him because some answers live in actions, not words.
He exhales into me like he’s been holding that breath since the lake. His hand slides to the back of my neck while the other grips my hip. I open for him. He tastes of peppermint and promise and a little like grilled cheese.
When his tongue brushes mine, a soft shock ripples through me. I chase it greedily. The kiss deepens, and the room drops away. Everything funnels to heat, breath, and the slow drag of his lips against mine.
He pulls back enough to look at me, eyes dark and intent. Then kisses me again like he’s decided to remember this in detail later.
This is what being human feels like, this ache, this awe, this yes. And maybe losing everything wasn’t the end.
Maybe it was the beginning.
Chapter 9
Everett
I pull back from the kiss and lay my forehead against hers. The moon’s up, full and white as a watchful eye, pouring itself through the slats in the shades and painting the floorboards with light.
Ariel braces her hand against my chest as if she’s steadying herself on the edge of a cliff. Her hair is a tangle of riverine copper, spilling over her shoulders and down her back in loose curls. I see the way the moonlight traces her gorgeous curves. She has an ethereal glow in this light. More than human. An optical illusion, probably, but it does things to my chest that have nothing to do with science. My cock hardens painfully, reminding me how much I want her.