24. Zendaya

Chapter 24

Zendaya

C athal is sprawled out beside me. I don't know what his return means, the same way I don't know how I climbed inside his bed. Did I sleepwalk or did he carry me? If it was the latter, does that mean he doesn't loathe me for desiring his seed?

I tuck my hands between my cheek and pillow and watch him like he's watched me since I stepped out of the Mahananda. He must sense my attention because his lashes snap up and he pivots his head toward me. A tussled strand collapses into his eyes. I reach out and smooth it back. He goes so still that even his chest no longer skips with breaths.

Unlike mine. "Why you leave, Crow?"

His lashes drop, shielding his still reddened stare. "I went to collect a dress from Fallon's closet since yours is ruined."

"You leave to get dress?"

"No." His eyes shut completely. He must squeeze them for the skin around their outer edge grooves. "I left because I needed space to think."

I wait for him to elaborate, to tell me what he thought about. When silence stretches between us, I begin to worry he doesn't speak them because he intuits they will make me sad. The wayward strand falls again. Again I press it back, threading my fingers through the rumpled mass, which elicits a low rumble from the male. When he doesn't clasp my wrist and push it back, I conclude that he mustn't hate my touch.

"What decide, Cathal Báeinach?"

His lids come up in slow motion, as though the weight of his thoughts sits atop them. "In the vision that Behati shared with you, do you see where you meet him?"

My fingers freeze. "Why?"

"Because I need to take you there."

I curl my fingers and tow them back toward my chest that aches from an upsurge of thuds. "You no want me?"

The tendons in his throat roil beneath his pale skin. "You are not—you are not meant for me, Zendaya." The Crow's eyes are glossy in the leavening dawn. I might not be meant for him, but he evidently wishes I were. Instead of keeping me away, the fissure of heartbreak makes me shuffle nearer, lay my head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest.

For a long moment, he stays motionless, but then he curls his own arm around my waist and tucks me close.

"This isn't helping, Daya," he murmurs into my hair, but he doesn't push me away.

"If this about babe, I change mind. I no?—"

"You deserve to have another child. One like you."

"Fallon enough." I shrug. "Beside, she same as old-me. Magic in blood."

"But she also took after me." His gentle voice warms my forehead. "We may manage to produce another child together, but what sort of monster would we create? A Serpent with feathers? A Crow with scales? If the Cauldron foresaw you with another male, then that—" His lips flatten, disappearing into the coarse hair bordering them. "Then that is who you need to lay with." A deep shudder rolls through him and into me.

I crane my neck to stare up into his face, but his eyes are shut once more, and he's pinching the bridge of his nose, croaking a, " Focá ."

I lift the hand I have on his chest and cup his cheek, and then I'm pivoting his face, driving my fingers through his hair to snare the back of his head and carry it lower, closer to mine. "Cathal, consent I kiss?"

His lids come up so fast I feel the rush of air from his lashes.

"Yes?"

"Príona…it's a terrible idea."

"Why?"

"Because how the fuck am I supposed to let you go if I get a taste of you?"

I hope a taste will be enough, for I'm terribly fond of the vigor of his arms and the heat of his eyes. I love his fragrance and his scratchy timbre. I like how deeply possessive he is of me, how attentive, how considerate, how gentle.

Even though my bandaged thigh smarts, I climb atop him. His stare is wild, his breathing chaotic. Only his hands on my waist are steady.

"Daya…" he rasps.

I take his bristly jaw between my palms and lean over, and then I slant my mouth over his like I've seen embracing couples do. His lips are as hard as bone. His exhale, scorching like a flame.

Though my heart pounds, I find the act a little underwhelming and suddenly wonder why so many do it. Sure, the connection is intimate, but it's hardly worth moaning over. I start to pull away when one of his hands all but claps the back of my head, and then his lips are moving against mine, and his tongue…it sweeps and plunders. Like a fishing lure, it hooks my rushing exhales, dragging them out of me in the form of an infinite gasp. One which transforms into a moan, and oh, Sweet Mahananda, I finally understand everyone's fondness for kissing.

It's…it's a coming together of so much more than lips and tongues; it's a merging of breaths and heartbeats. One that sweeps through the body like a wave, stirring everything in its wake. It's a current that envelops and tows toward the deep. That could drown souls if one were to give in too often and too long.

I want often. I want long. I want to drown against Cathal's mouth. I think he wants that, too. But I'm wrong, because he flips me onto my back, then pulls away as though I'd bitten him. In case I did, I hunt his lips for a trickle of blood. Though flushed and pulsating, there are no crimson slicks.

"Never." He growls, palms flat against my pillow, knees flush with the side of my knees. I think he's about to warn me that this can never happen again, but then he says, "You can never fucking leave me now. Not for your true mate. Not for the ocean. I won't survive losing you again." He brings one of his hands to my face. His knuckles shake as he skates them across my cheek, across my forehead, across that pale bead that marks me as other. "Swear it, Zendaya of Shabbe. Swear you'll be mine, always."

"New bargain, Cathal of the Sky Kingdom?"

"Just a vow. Just for me. Not a bargain."

"Like marriage vow?"

His throat clenches and I hear him swallow. "Not today. But perhaps you'll do me the honor someday?"

His desire for me dispatches the beats of my heart into every corner of my being and ferries a smile to my mouth that glosses his eyes with new emotion. I raise my arms and curl them around his neck. "I be yours as long as I exist, Cathal of the Sky Kingdom."

His breath clips past his trembling lips. "You will exist forever. Forever ."

I'm not certain how he will go about convincing the Mahananda to make me immortal, but I like the dream of this always he promises, so I reword my vow. "I always be yours, Crow."

Though no magical dot singes my heart, my skin blazes all the same. I once heard Phoebus say that he burned for his lover. I hadn't understood what he meant, but I do now. Cathal has ignited my body and warmed my heart to the point of melting. If he pressed his chest to mine, I'm not entirely convinced our bodies wouldn't weld together.

"But only if kiss me again."

"Always," he murmurs, his voice trembling like his big body. "Always, mo mila Sífair." He must sense my devouring curiosity for the new word, because in Shabbin, he says, "Always, my sweet Serpent."

He aligns our lips, but before he can press them to mine once more, he jerks back with a low snarl.