Chapter 13 - Veronica

The kiss starts out slow, soft, gentle, and full of emotion. The kinds of kisses we shared before, back in New York. The kinds of kisses made me think Percy was in love with me, like I was the only woman he would ever look at again.

His hand comes to my chin, grazing the skin there, tipping my head up. He lets out a sigh against my lips. He smells like deodorant, soap, laundry soap, sweat, and blood, and it's like I can separate everything happening in this moment down to the tiniest detail.

I hear the rasp of his clothes against his skin. Feel him swallow like it's happening in my own body. I've been aroused before, but I have never, ever felt this way in my life. It's like my senses have been turned up to high, sensitive to the tiniest changes around me. I feel like I could sense a change in the barometric pressure.

When Percy was remembering the night he kidnapped me, the memory entered my head like it had been there all along. Which, of course, it had—from my perspective. But this was like looking at a video of what it was like for him, like stepping into his body for a moment, and it was pure torture.

I'm not a shifter, have never even thought about what it would be like to be in anything other than a human body, but being in his body, feeling the pure agony of the wrong bones, the wrong skin, the wrong shape, it was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced in my life.

The fact that he even managed to warn me and snatch that lucidity for a moment is a miracle. The fact that the worst thing he did was take me and put me in a basement and feed and water me for a few weeks.

Being in his place, in that memory, I realize that any other shifter would have been killing humans, shifters, doing anything to get away from that feeling. Percy had tried to explain what it felt like, but nothing could explain it like feeling it for myself.

"I forgive you," I whisper, between kisses that are like petals, whispers, the phantom of a real kiss. "Percy," I say, and his name comes out cracked, broken, halfway to a sob. "I forgive you."

One of his hands comes to my hip, pulling me closer, and I sway but stay back, just outside of his room. For some reason, I feel that as long as I stay on this side of his door, this will all be okay.

At my words, it's like something in his body takes over, and his touch on my chin becomes tighter, tipping my head back, slipping his tongue into my mouth, the sweet friction of it enough to send a straight shot of heat between my legs.

I want him .

Of course, I already knew that. You don't fantasize about having sex with someone, those memories playing through your head again and again, when you don't want them like that. But this is the first time that I've allowed myself to think it.

Maybe while I'm here, before I leave, we could just give in to this thing between us, get it out of our systems. We'll be here in this apartment together, where nobody can hear us. The thought makes my heart flutter, and I push as close to him as I can get without crossing the threshold to his room.

Our teeth knock together clumsily, and we laugh, two quick exhales before he grabs me again and deepens the kiss.

My goofball, always laughing, always smiling—I think and think and think the word but keep it bottled up, pushing it away every time it comes back, like a beach ball on the waves, constantly rolling back toward me, buoyant and persistent.

I love him. I'm in love with him. As many times as I moved and as many times as I told myself it wasn't true, it is. I didn't stop loving him the day he left me, which was the worst part. It's what made me hate him.

Touching him feels like dipping my toes into lava. My skin is hot, feverish from his attention. Sure, I'd loved him before, but it had never felt like this . It must be from the "blood-bond," and I can't even say I'm mad at it anymore.

The tempo picks up. His hands skate up my thighs and hips, dragging up the hem of my nightgown. He balls it in his fist, and I hitch my leg up onto his hip, pressing us together and making him groan loudly.

"Veronica," he rasps, then as though he's just now realizing what we were doing, he steps back suddenly. My nightgown falls back into place. I stand there, on the precipice, staring at him, wanting him but unable to take a step forward to meet him there. He might need his space. He's the one who pulled away.

My rational brain is there in a second, saying what are you doing ?

"Veronica," he says, shaking his head. "We can't. "

"Why not?" I say, feeling like a kid who didn't get their way. I want to stamp my foot, want him to take me in his arms again. It would be so easy for us to fall together. I know what he likes—how he likes my nails down his back and my tongue on his dick. I could remind him of that, I think, desperation filling my brain. I could drop my nightgown to the floor and show him everything he's missing.

" Fuck ," he whispers, shaking his head again, bringing both his hands to his head, scrubbing them through his hair like he always used to do when he was thinking something through. He pauses for a moment, then, as though he's come to a final conclusion, he says, "Veronica, it could seriously hurt you."

The idea of it he's talking about sends another wave of arousal through my body, and I genuinely feel insane. I feel like I've gone without a need, like I'm dying of thirst. My body shakes, and for a moment, I think I might actually be pathetic enough to drop to my knees, beg him for it.

Yeah, well, I think about saying, this is killing me anyway.

I've never felt this aroused in my life. I want to pace in circles around him, and find where to pounce. I palm my forehead—what the hell is wrong with me?

"We can't do this," Percy says, still panting a little when he steps forward. Just before he closes the door, he says, his voice strained. "Lock the door."

It's painful, but I do.

***

I sleep fitfully, tossing and turning on the air mattress, my arms constantly reaching out for something that's not there as much as I dream it.

When I wake up, I'm soaked from my dreams, and I groan against the pillow, wondering if anyone has ever felt like this before. They say men are constantly horny, and I wonder, as I roll off of the air mattress, if this is how they feel, continually pushing away sexy images.

I step into the shower, deciding I won't touch myself to the thought of him, but less than a minute later, I give that up, muffling my cries into the crook of my elbow. But right after I'm done, the feelings come flooding back. It's like chewing gum when you're hungry.

After toweling off, I realize there's only one thing that has the potential to take my mind off of Percy and potentially calm my raging hormones.

I grab a few tote bags from the cabinet and head outside, planning to head to the corner grocery store, until I remember that the Rosecreek farmers market happens every Saturday, and Percy is located conveniently close to the town square. I take my time wandering through the stalls. The fresh air, variety of products, and space away from Percy and the apartment manage to soothe my aching to a dull thrum in the back of my mind.

Everything at the market is seasonal, and it reminds me of when I made those strawberry shortcake pancakes for Percy all those years ago.

I grab some pie pumpkins and spices from various booths. Slowly, my tote bag fills, eventually becoming heavy enough that I'm forced to head back to the apartment. When I step inside and start to tie my hair up, I hear Percy say, muffled from his room, "Veronica?"

I pause for a moment, stilling my hands, a thrum of awareness moving through meat the sound of his voice. This is insane.

"Yeah?" I finally say, hearing how awkward my own voice is. Percy and I almost had sex last night, except that would be a bad idea, because, apparently, his cock is dangerous enough that he could kill me with it. I giggle a little at the thought as I set the tote bag on the counter and start to unload my haul.

"I, uh," he says, laughing a bit to himself. "I really need to pee."

"Oh my god," I say, putting my hands to my cheeks and whipping around, hurrying down the hallway toward his room. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot—"

I completely forgot that I needed to lock you away, so—what? Was the lock just a way to make me feel safe? It hadn't felt that way last night when he commanded me to lock it. It'd felt like the only way he wasn't going to come to the living room and have his way with me.

A shiver runs down my back at the thought, and I unlock the door, stepping away as the door opens. I don't move fast enough, because Percy makes to hurry out, and our chests brush when I step back against the wall.

He stops, closing his eyes, and I watch him for just a second before turning and hurrying back into the kitchen. A moment later, I hear the bathroom door shut and relax infinitesimally.

If this is how paranormals feel about sex, how the hell do they get anything done? I can barely think when I'm around him, barely breathe.

Busying myself in the kitchen, I start making breakfast, focusing on what I'm doing so intensely that I don't hear Percy step up to the breakfast bar.

"Deja vu," he says, which makes me jump. He sits down at the breakfast bar. After his shower, he looks a bit better than he did yesterday, but he has heavy bags under his eyes and seems generally bedraggled.

"Oh, right," I laugh, glancing down at the pancakes. "I hope you like pumpkin."

Percy and I only spent a summer together, and nothing more. I don't know what he does on Christmas morning, or how he feels about the first snow, or if he would do something atrocious, like making hot chocolate with water. The only thing I know about him is that he loves strawberries, and he was more than happy to lick the whipped cream from my—

"I like everything you cook," he murmurs, drawing me out of my thoughts abruptly. I blink and clear my throat, turning and sliding his plate in front of him. It's piled high with pumpkin spice pancakes, topped with a drizzle of cream cheese frosting and a handful of candied pecans.

"It might be too sweet," I say as he takes a massive first bite. When he meets my eyes, he covers his mouth with his hand, nodding.

"No," he says after swallowing it. I watch the action with rapt attention, my entire body fixated on what he's doing. It feels like we're both circling, circling, circling the elephant in the room, refusing to acknowledge it. "It's perfect. There's no such thing as too sweet."

"Deja vu," I whisper, remembering that's what he'd said about the strawberry ones, too. He stands abruptly, swallowing and backing away.

"I should go,' he says, "Aris wants me to meet him at the pack center."

"Okay," I say, clearing my throat and nodding. "Have a good day."

Percy yells something back, but he's already at the door to the apartment, so I can't make it out.

After cleaning up from breakfast, I decided I don't want to sit in the apartment by myself all day, so I headed toward the town center, where Linnea is still preparing for the kick-off party later tonight. It looks like they're building some sort of stage, but it's in the beginning steps.

"Watch out!" I say, hurrying forward and holding my hand out, just catching a wooden beam before it lands on Linnea's head. She turns and stares at me, her mouth open, her eyebrows rising.

"Gods!" she cries, as two men hurry over to take it from me. "Wasn't the heavy?"

I stare at the beam, then at her.

"Oh," I say, after a moment, flexing my hand and arm and noticing how they're not even sore. I look back at the beam, see how they're pushing it back into place with effort, and realize that it must be a lot heavier than I thought. "Must have been adrenaline."

"Well," she says, hand to her heart, " thank you ."

"Yeah, of course," I say, and then, "I'm actually looking for something to do."

"Oh, you're here to help?" she asks, with so much genuine excitement on her face that I instantly feel terrible for not coming to help sooner.

"Yes," I say, and for a few, blissful hours, I'm thrown into the preparations, carrying heavy bags, moving carts, and painting a set. It feels good, and the exertion takes my mind off of everything. Occasionally, I catch someone giving me a strange look, but I don't have time to dwell on it. The second I stop working, I start thinking, and the last thing I want is to play the kiss between Percy on loop for the rest of my life.