36. Tempi

CHAPTER 36

TEMPI

W eirdly, the doors do lead us where we need to go. After walking for a few minutes passed numerous doors, one flashes with gold as I stand in front of it. It's as if it knows exactly who we are.

Even if I don't know.

Midas holds the door open for me and I step inside to take in the pale green décor. It's pretty, but not really my style. This is what I imagine rich people do to their houses when they pay someone to come in and decorate. Large flowy curtains that look like they're a nightmare to dust. Four poster bed piled high with pillows you're going to kick off anyways. Plush rugs. Yeah, this is the kind of stuff people who pay people to clean their homes have. Somehow, I don't think it's Clara's style either. I don't know how large this house actually is, but it seems like there may be an endless supply of rooms. I don't want to get lost in this place, that's for sure.

When Midas closes the door behind us, I turn and look at him. Right now, his expression is guarded and he's having a hard time looking me in the eyes. I don't exactly blame him. We've just gone through a whole ordeal where he thought he'd killed me. The trauma that probably caused, especially after what he told me of his daughter. I can't imagine.

But perhaps, it's not as traumatic as being the one thinking you're dying.

I lift my arm and stare at it, at the now golden shine there. Before, I was a gentle tan. Now, I'm literally golden, as if someone took gold paint and put a fine layer across all my skin. As I twist my arm, it catches the light from the chandelier and throws little sparkles around the room. Que extra?o .

How fucking strange!

"Midas," I wheeze, the full magnitude of what we'd been through setting in. "What exactly happened?"

He stands before me, his eyes bright with shame. "I touched you."

"But I'm not dead," I say, as if it isn't obvious.

His jaw ticks. "No, you're not."

"Why?" I ask, looking up at him. I lift my arm before him. "Why am I fucking gold? Why am I alive? Why did your power not kill me like it kills everything else? Why?—"

"I have no answers for you, Tempest," he interrupts before I can spiral. "I don't know why you're alive. I don't know why you're golden. All I know," he says, before taking a step toward me, and another, and another, until he's right in front of me. "All I know is that I'm thankful you are."

At some point, he'd put his glove back on. He reaches up now to press that gloved hand against my cheek. His next breath rattles in his chest, as if he can't quite believe I'm still flesh and blood.

"I'm alive," I rasp, looking up into his eyes.

"You're alive," he repeats. "You wear my gold upon your skin as if you were meant to carry it." He leans down. "Nothing will ever make what I've done to you better?—"

"I'm alive," I say more forcibly. "Something in me, whether this magic I supposedly carry or something else, decided that your power couldn't kill me. That's all that matters." I reach up and cup his jawline, my fingers trailing through his beard. "That's all that matters, Midas."

He presses his forehead against mine, breathing me in. We stand there for long minutes, just being in each other's presence, accepting that things are different now but that's okay. I may be some strange creature, I may not be entirely human, but I'm alive.

And I may be in love.

"Take off your gloves," I whisper when I open my eyes.

He jerks back as if I've slapped him. "Tempest?—"

"Take them off," I repeat. "What's the worst that can happen? You turn me to gold again?"

"What if it was a fluke?" he asks. "What if a second time makes it permanent?"

I tilt my head. "Has your power ever worked like that before?"

"Well. . . no," he admits. "But this has never happened before."

I grab his hand and hold it up. Meeting his eyes, I carefully begin pulling at the glove, finger by finger. "Something in me, my instincts maybe, says that this is it. That something makes it possible for you to touch me," I murmur. I pull the glove off, revealing the golden tips of his fingers. Carefully, slowly, I pull his arm closer until his fingertips just barely brush against my cheek. We both hold our breath, because while I'm sure I'm right, there's always the chance that I'm wrong, that I'm killing myself with this.

When nothing happens, I smile gently up at him. "See?" I murmur. "Nothing happens."

Midas stares at where his flesh touches mine in wonder, his hand more fully cupping my cheek and stroking. He puts his gloved hand to his mouth and uses his teeth to remove his other glove, leaving him bare. He uses both hands to hold my cheeks.

Still nothing.

"Apparently, I'm going to be golden forever," I whisper. "But it's a small price to pay for you to be able to touch me like this."

"Maybe my power just isn't working anymore," he reasons. "Maybe my curse is breaking?"

As if to prove his point, his looks around the room and finds a glass sitting on the bedside table. He reaches for it and before he even gets it in the air, it's flashing from crystal to gold. His face falls.

I take the glass from him. "Midas, mírame ." When his eyes flick up to mine, I reach up to his face and make sure he's really looking. "It's okay. We're gonna be okay. We may not know what I am, but at least I'm alive." I press his hand to my chest so he can feel my heartbeat. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" he croaks. "This doesn't mean. . . you don't have to stay around me. I know I'm an asshole?—"

"You can be," I nod, smiling. "But. . . When I was turning to gold, I swear I heard you say something. . ."

His face immediately goes blank. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so you didn't mean the words you said?" I tease, grinning up at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, glancing away.

"If you can't say it to me, then how am I supposed to say it back?" I ask.

His eyes flick back to mine. "Say it back?"

"Did you mean the words?" I ask again, needing to hear him say it.

He sighs and reaches for me. "I always mean what I say." He tugs me into a hug. "So yes, Tempest. I love you."

Happiness bursts in my chest. Call it the highs and the lows of the day, but it suddenly feels like I've won the lottery. King Midas loves me. I never thought I could love again, but here he is, watching me after his proclamation closely, wondering what I think about it. Maybe it's the trauma bonding. Maybe I've gone insane. Either way, I'm certain of the feeling in my heart.

I take his hand in mine. "I love you, too," I whisper.

His hands cup my cheeks. "You're certain?"

Laughing, I cover his hands with mine. "I'm certain."

"But what about. . . how will we?—"

"Midas," I interrupt. "Stop." I can't bear to discuss how things will work. It might be doomed before we ever start, but I don't want to talk about that right now. I can't. "Just kiss me," I tell him. "Please."

His eyes flicker over my face, studying me, before he leans in and places the most tender of kisses on my lips. It's so sweet and thorough, so gentle, that it makes my eyes water just a little. I've never felt more cherished with just a simple kiss like this. When he pulls away and we look into each other's eyes, I know we'll figure it out. One way or the other. Everything will be okay.

The next kiss isn't even half as gentle. The next kiss is born from desperation and fear. The lingering fear from his earlier touch, from turning to gold, the pain of it, fuels my passion now. I need to feel him. I need to test if I'm really still alive. When his naked hands run down my clothing and caress my skin, I gasp into his mouth. It was one thing to feel the sensation of his gloves. It's another thing entirely to feel his gold-tipped fingers running along it. My skin pebbles in answer, tingling with his touch, as if his magic is still funneling inside me.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes as he tugs my shirt off over my head.

My chuckle comes out a little breathy. "You're only saying that because I'm golden now."

"It's not the gold that makes you beautiful, Tempest," he murmurs. Then he kneels before me, his face even with my sternum. "It's your soul. I can see it shining so brightly inside you. It's the fire there, burning like a beacon in the dark, a lighthouse." He presses a kiss between my breasts. "I'm going to make sure that flame never burns out."

This fierce man looks up at me and there's no longer ice in his eyes. He's molten gold, melted by the fire he sees in me. I thawed the king. I never even knew I was doing it. I never even knew I was fire. And here he is, looking up at me like something precious, like he doesn't mind being scorched.

Carefully, I stroke my fingers along his face, remembering him, burning him into my memory. When he tugs my pants off and runs his bearded face along my stomach, I let him. His crown keeps me from threading my fingers fully into his hair like I want to, so I just keep my fingers along the sides of his face. He dips between my thighs and the first stroke of his tongue against my core nearly makes my legs buckle. It takes everything in me to hold on as he tastes me. His hands circle my hips and hold me still before he lifts one leg and throws it over his shoulder.

"Oh," I breathe, struggling to stay upright through the pleasure.

He stands so suddenly, I screech, my hands clawing into his shoulders as he lifts me in the air effortlessly.

"Midas! What are you doing?"

His face stays against my core, but I still hear his laughter. I'm just glad the ceilings are high here or else I'd be knocking myself out on the chandelier. He doesn't answer me. Instead, he just drops me on the large bed in the center of the room. I land in the soft sheets with an "oomph" before he pulls back. I lift to my elbows just in time to see him shrug his leather jacket off. I watch as he pulls his shirt over his head in one quick movement before going to his pants. I've never seen someone undress so fast.

He doesn't remove his chains or other jewelry. He doesn't remove his crown. Instead, he comes over me adorned in all the gold he drips in.

The moment his hands touch the sheets, gold begins to crawl along them, reminding me that his curse isn't broken, reminding me that I'm somehow special enough to survive it. The gold crawls along the bed, turning all it touches gold, but I hardly pay attention to it when Midas kneels between my thighs.

"I never expected. . ." he starts and then stops. He clears his throat. "I wasn't prepared for you."

"That's okay," I say softly. "I wasn't prepared for you, either."

He smiles nervously and then looks down at the golden chains around his neck. He lifts one of the smaller ones, a thin chain with a small green jewel hanging from it, and unhooks it from around his neck. When he leans over me to hook it around my neck, my heart stops.

"Are you marking me?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes.

"No," he murmurs. "It's a promise, not a claim."

I study his eyes as he carefully settles the jewel between my breasts. "A promise of what?"

He kisses me softly on the forehead. "A promise that I will love you in every world, no matter which one we find ourselves in next."

This time, my eyes water enough that I can't hide it. "Oh," I rasp, quickly wiping my cheeks before he can do so. "I don't have anything to give you. I can get something if?—"

"Shh," he murmurs, pressing his finger to my lips. "I expect nothing in return, Tempest."

Then he leans down and kisses me. Every feeling in my chest swells outside of me and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close, almost afraid he'll float away if I let him go. I've never needed someone as deeply as I need this man right now.

When he strokes inside of me, it feels like a declaration. When he drives me to completion over and over again, it feels like a claim. And when he rolls us and lets me take charge, it feels like everything I've ever needed.

A partner. Someone not afraid to dance in my fire. Someone who can stand at my side and fight whatever comes.

I ride the king for hours, and when both of us are so exhausted that sleep comes barreling after us, we collapse in a bed completely spun of gold, in a room as golden as the sun.

When he wraps me in his arms, I feel safer than I ever have.

When sleep claims me, I dream of golden rings and a king with eyes like the sun.

And my heart is full. . .