Page 144 of The Amber Sunburst

He’s imagined her saying that for five years but here? Now? Forms, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt. His body is at odds with itself—like it’s been submerged in a hot bath, every muscle relaxing, every tension gone, and like it’s been set aflame, every nerve rapid-firing with a violence only love can create.

Somehow he manages to tell his hand to bury itself in her hair.

She sighs against his lips and moves in further and oh.

It’s short and chaste but, Forms, nothing has ever been better. When she pulls back, he chases her until he’s sitting up and her arms are wrapped around his shoulders.

She smiles and rolls her eyes and kisses him again. And again. And again.

Eventually he makes an embarrassing—and incredibly involuntary—noise, and Eudoxia pulls away with a giggle. His heart melts at her laugh. His heart melts at everything about her, actually. Like when she puts her hand gently to his cheek and thumbs the soft patch of skin under his eye.

She doesn’t say anything, so he doesn’t either.

His hands play with her hair lightly behind her back. She might be the most breathtaking person in the world. Especially when she’s smiling at him like this.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers to her.

“For you. Only for you.” She lets the tips of their noses touch. “You’re beautiful too, you know,” she adds. “I don’t know if I can say that. Do boys like being called beautiful?”

He takes great care not to laugh. “You could call me anything and I would probably thank you.”

Her eyes light up and a smirk forms on her lips. “Stupid-head.”

“Thank you,” he says, and she kisses him.

“Dumbass.”

“Thanks very much.” She kisses him again.

“Wonderful, kind, mine.”

He kisses her. That’s a thank you enough, he thinks.

When they part for air, he moves to her neck, kissing softly right below her ear. She gasps and pulls him closer and this, he knows—he’s always known—is what he wants until… What was it Eudoxia said months ago?

Until forever has ended and nothing is left but her hands and her smile.

43

ALEXANDER

Alexander very quickly decides that the Library is much cooler when one is drunk. The vaulted ceilings look impossibly taller, the blues seem immeasurably deeper, and the stars painted all over feel as if they might truly be dancing in the moonlight.

Kallias walks in before him, heading straight for their table at the end of the Library, and Alexander is powerless to do anything but watch him go. It feels sacrilegious to follow—the true personification of perfection is not to be sullied by the likes of him.

Additionally, Kallias has lost his linen shirt, which leaves him in a white tank that does fantastic things for his arms.

Kallias pushes himself up to sit on their table, legs wide enough for Alexander to stand between them, which simply cannot be accidental. They make eye contact and Kallias tilts his head expectantly, luring him in.

He lets Kallias’ magnetism consume him. Only once he arrives does Kallias lean back on his hands and look at him through shining lashes. Alexander can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth. He’s stupid, it’s fine.

“You’re perfect.”

Kallias turns away, but not enough to hide his blush.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Back to idiot, are we?”