Page 111 of Anomalies

Had I said that out loud? Chiaros, I might have ruined this whole thing if I had said that out loud. The inhale I take is sharp and undeniably panicky.

“Gods, Callan,” she laughs. “Are you okay to have this conversation? I’ve only said one thing, and your face is pale⁠—”

“Yes.” I clear my throat, and her grin widens. “I’m fine. Just keep talking.”

She lets a moment of silence pass, torturing me with it, while I cling to the silky fabric at her waist as if it’s the door to heaven. It’s ironic considering the things I’d do to her in this dress would surely send me straight to hell.

But maybe not.

Maybe I’d find a new religion.

“I think it’s a good kind of scared,” Lucina says finally, and my patient silence is all the reassurance she needs to keep going. Her smile fades. “I missed you,” she forces out, “a lot more than any sane person should, and I guess I didn’t realize I felt that way until you weren’t here. Maybe that makes me needy or pathetic⁠—”

“Stop.” My hands freeze, and she presses her lips together. “I could listen to you talk for hours, but I draw the line at pathetic. If you’re pathetic, then I’m deplorable. Lucina, we crossed Griseo in half the time it usually takes because all I wanted was to get back here to you.”

Her eyes roll, and she gives me an incredulous shake of her head.

“Oh, you don’t believe me? Ask Devon. He tripped me every few miles just to slow me down.”

That has her laughing, and if there is anything I missed more than the sound of her voice, it’s the way she laughs.

I straighten in response to it, and she jostles in my lap, leaning into the hand I slide under her jaw while the other tucks a soft, wavy strand behind her ear.

“Be mine,” I whisper when her eyes slide shut. “I’d do just about anything for you, Lucina. If I had the power to give you the world, I would.”

“What if I don’t want the world?” she asks, her eyes cracking open, burning pits of devastating gold staring boldly back at me. “What if I just want you?”

“Then I’m yours.” Her breathing stutters at the lack of hesitation, and some of her confidence slips, but there is no room for hesitation when it comes to her. Hesitation would fuck this up and I can’t afford it; the risk is too great. I slip a hand around her waist. “Yours, Chaos.”

Her fingers trail up the sides of my neck and all I can do is hold my breath. Every inch of skin she touches burns, but in the best way; it’s not dying, it’s coming to life. Her lips part as she brushes them across mine, feather light. It’s like having been in the desert for years without water and she’s the promise of a godsdamn hurricane.

“I’m not above begging,” I say onto her lips.

She laughs, then kisses me fully and without reservation. I curse at the first taste of her, sweet and sinful and fatally addicting. I swear on every god that I haven’t taken a deep breath in weeks. Not until now.

I yank her closer, tilting her face into mine and moving my lips across hers at a maddeningly slow pace, groaning at the gentle brush of her tongue against my own. Then everything catches fire.

Her lips part for me and I’m ruined when she whimpers into my mouth, her hands fisting the collar of my shirt holding on like I’d ever fucking let her go.

I can’t believe all the time I spent not kissing her. All the time I spent talking myself out of ever crossing that line, because how could I not? This…it’s… insatiable, the feeling of her skin heating through the fabric of her dress and the little sounds she makes when my hand slides back into her hair, tugging slightly on the still-damp curls.

My hand skates across her thighs, and my teeth graze her bottom lip, then I feel her smile against my mouth when my fingers freeze at the edge of the bunched fabric.

She pulls away, only far enough to look me dead in the eyes. “It’s okay,” she breathes. Her pulse flickers along her neck when she takes my wrist and pushes it up her thigh, guiding me past the line I’d drawn for myself. My blood is pumping so hard I fear my heart will give out. “You can touch me–”

She gasps when I take myself the rest of the way, my thumb brushing straight up the center of her underwear. “Here?” I ask, and Lucina nods, her throat bobbing as she swallows. I toy with the edge of the lace, memorizing the way her eyes burn. “Use your words, Chaos.”

“There,” she stutters when I tug on the sides of the pale white lace. “Please.”

And there goes my last shred of self-control; it was hanging on by a thread anyway.

I stand abruptly, and she barely has time to throw her arms around my neck. I toss her down onto the bed, that beautifully untamed hair fanning around her as she scrambles up to her elbows.

“Callan…” Lucina squirms backwards, something like fear flickering across her face when she sees the intensity in mine. “You have a crazy look in your eye.”

“I’m sure I do.” My finger crooks in her direction. “Come here.” I snatch the ankle of her boot and yank her towards me. Lucina goes flying across the comforter, right up to the edge of the mattress. She lets loose a string of curses but falls deathly silent when I drop to my knees.

Two thuds against the hardwood, and she stills.