Page 88 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

But, no.

This was Hyacinth. We shouldn’t—

He snagged my arms and dragged me down into the grass with him, his back thunking against the sharp incline of a hill, my knees dropping into clover where they straddled him. Our bodies, all firm edges and blazing sparks, banged into each other.

I swallowed. “Wait.” His hands gripped into my flesh, like he’d take pieces of me, like he feared I’d fly away if he let go. “Cyn. Wait. Stop.”

He froze, releasing me, his fingers pulling off me one-by-one. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Crickets buzzed, a wind drifted over our bodies, our panting breaths raising our shoulders in rhythm. “I’m just…” I cleared my throat and eased away from him. “I’m…”

His expression brightened. “Oh. Have you never?”

I laughed down to my stomach. Because that was the last question I’d expected from him. “No, I have. Many, many times actually.”

His expression shattered, a sheen slipping across his eyes, his jaw ticking. “It’s me then,” he whispered, rising. He started walking up the slope.

“Cyn, wait, no…” I scrambled to my feet and chased after him. “Shit. Hyacinth, please hang on a minute.”

He turned back, that look of a king draping over him again, the decisive edge, the wariness. I tangled my hand into my curls, twining them around my fingers. “Listen… It’s hard to say this… I guess. I mean, I’m not sure what I’m trying to say…”

Damn it. My words had about as much clarity as a prophecy. Hyacinth frowned.

I reached for his hand. His muscles tensed, but he let me take it, allowing our skin to brush together again. “I’ve had sex,” I whispered. My heart tripped around within me like it’d leave my body, and my voice came shaky. “But never before when...” I met his gaze. The moon beyond crowned him, his outline glowing in ivory light. “Never when it maybe meant more than just something physical.”

Those words came scarcely more than a hush, like a confession in a temple, a prayer for something good from someone anything but.

I trembled.

Because I never did that. I never opened my soul and handed someone the means to rip it apart.

But seeing Hyacinth like that—hurt, uncertain—it undid something within me.

Something that made me willing to step off a cliff.

Face my fears.

Embrace flames and feel myself burn.

Hyacinth’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he whispered. He drew in closer to me again. His nose brushed over my cheek, like velvet, like the silk of his damn robes. His mouth found mine again, but this kiss was different.

It didn’t scorch through me.

It brushed against me with the gentlest flutter. Like laughter. Sunshine. Music.

Like hope.

I parted my lips and let him lead.

His palm curled around my jaw and his touch came like rain. I wished I could drown in it. Hyacinth was a sparkling pool, reflecting stars, that I’d dive off a cliff a million times for. I feared, even with that, it’d never be enough.

“Apollo.” I tilted my eyes back to him, and he studied me a moment before saying anything else. “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Ever. Just”—he tightened his fingers around mine—“this is sufficient.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be ready for more.”

“That’s okay.”

I leaned in and kissed him again. Tasted his mouth.