Ensnared
Page 52

 A.G. Howard

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My body aches on impact—but it’s a delicious ache. I can hardly breathe with the weight of his ribs covering mine, with the scent of his tobacco surrounding me, smothering and intoxicating. The curve of his smiling mouth glides along my collarbone and I gasp at the velvety sensation. I force his head up so I can look at him . . . break the spell.
He slips the bejeweled headband from my hair, sweeping stray strands from my face. The slickness of his gloves grazes my eye markings.
“I wanted to kiss your lips and share your breath,” he says softly as he leans close.
It hits me that he’s fulfilling the desires listed in the note he sent with the lingerie.
I remember the last kiss we shared—the taste of his tongue, the way it made my spirit soar but trampled Jeb’s into the ground.
Jeb—who’s out there with Dad, trying to pave the way so we can get to Mom. Even with Red’s hatred seeping through him, he’s still endangering his life to help me.
I push against Morpheus’s shoulders. “I—I’m not ready—”
He lifts my hands over my head and holds them against the itchy, phosphorescent grass, pinning me in place. His grasp is gentle enough that I could break free at anytime.
“You came here to destroy Red,” he says. “Which means you are ready . . . ready to claim your throne because you’ve embraced your love for Wonderland. And lest you forget, I am Wonderland. As are you.” Even in the eclipse of his wings, the sparkle from my skin lights up his face. He drags me into that inky gaze framed within long lashes, sets me adrift in the madness and beauty there.
“Jebediah has given up on you, but I never will. I can offer you the security you desire. If you’ll but be mine, your heart will forever be sheltered in my care. Yes, we will quarrel incessantly and fight for dominance. And yes, there will be ravishes of passion, but there will also be gentle lulls. That is who we are together. You’ll never need fear that your love is not reciprocated. For although you’ve made me feel things I am not equipped for . . . I cannot stop feeling them.” His chin quavers. “You opened Pandora’s box within me. Set loose the imaginings and emotions of a mortal man. And there is no closing it ever again.” The jewels under his eyes twitch between dark purple and blue. “As much as I abhor being anything akin to human, Alyssa, I wouldn’t dare try to close it. Because that would mean losing you.”
The confession is lovely and brutal—laced with honesty that I not only hear in the rasp of his voice, but feel in the quaking of his muscles as he holds my hands over my head.
“You think me egocentric and incapable of sincerity,” he continues, entwining our fingers so the scars beneath my lace are pressed to his gloved palms. “’Tis true. Your mortal knight was willing to die for you with no way out, selfless to a fault. I had the vorpal sword when I let the bandersnatch take me in your place; I knew I had a means of escape. Perhaps that made Jebediah’s sacrifice greater. But I have made sacrifices, too. I stayed away so many years after our childhood, after your mum went to the asylum, so you could live your life.”
“Because you’d made a life-magic vow to her; you didn’t have a choice . . .” I stop short of telling him that I know only too well how binding those vows can be.
“Yes. But I let you leave again, last year after you were crowned. And all those nights I brought you to Wonderland in your dreams, even though it pained me for you to abandon our dreamscapes and return to the mortal realm, I let you go each morning to live your reality there. It may not seem much when compared to your mortal’s gallantry. But for me—self-seeking, arrogant prig that I am—that is the sincerest form of sacrifice. Letting you go. Do you not see that?”
Empathy claws through me. I struggle to find some word of gratitude or apology, but nothing seems sufficient. All I can do is nod.
As if waiting for that signal, he releases my hands, cups my face, and whispers in my ear. “My precious Alyssa, share reality with me. Give me forever. We will wreak such beautiful havoc together.”
Temptation shimmers through my blood, a taste of eternal power and pandemonium. His soft lips glide across my jaw. I’m dazzled by his touch, drugged by his promises, falling deeper and deeper into him. Before he reaches my mouth, I catch his hands and roll him off until he’s the one on his back, his wings no longer a hiding place but silky black pools along the ground.
I prop my top half over his so I’m in control. “I can’t think,” I whisper. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Insanity is the most pristine clarity.” He winds a leg around my hips and topples me onto him. “Let the lunacy in. Let it be your guide.” One corner of his mouth lifts to a boyish grin.
I push myself up on my elbows. I haven’t seen him this relaxed since we were playmates: bits of grass strewn through his hair, clothes messy and wrinkled. Even his T-shirt has come untucked. He stretches languorously under me, and the silvery scar on his abdomen catches the light, that telltale mark from Sister Two when he fought her inside Butterfly Threads just weeks ago. When he almost died to help me and Jeb escape. But I didn’t let him die, because I couldn’t imagine a world without him.
I can’t imagine a future without him, either. Not anymore.
Following a dark instinct and a darker desire, I touch the scar. His taut skin twitches and he catches a breath.
I jerk my hand away.
He snatches my arm and drags me back down so our noses touch. “It’s beautiful,” he says, his breath fragrant and fruited. “The mark left by your love when you saved my life. It matches the ones on your palms, from the first time you saved me. Again and again, your actions pay tribute to your true feelings. But I want to hear the words.” His lips caress my jaw and stop at my ear. “Say them.”
His low, purring voice electrifies my skin. The Wonderland queen thrashes to life. She shines light on the sentiment hidden inside the blackest corners of my heart, until I can no longer deny it.
I seek out his eyes, entranced by the depth of emotion there. “I care about you . . .” It’s a shallow, inadequate reply. The deepest truth freezes on my tongue: The netherling in me loves you, passionately.
Those words are too chilling, fragile, and extraordinarily unique to release; they might vanish like snowflakes if exposed to the heat of reality too soon.
But Morpheus is done waiting. He drags me closer, pressing my lips to his and kissing me in warm, exquisite strokes.