Swear by Malkin Nina

Author:Malkin, Nina [Malkin, Nina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 144242110X
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2012-01-23T05:00:00+00:00

XXXVII

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sin asks somberly as we mount the east wing steps. We being all four of us.

“Yes, of course.” I am such a liar. “You and Antonia need to be alone.”

The tower room has been restored to floral extravagance—decadent heaps and neat arrangements, blue roses on the desk, mounds of white on the bed.

“Antonia, may I pick a bouquet for my sisters?” Pleased by the entreaty, our petal princess gives Charlotte a magnanimous nod.

“Will you help me choose? I want it to be just right.” Really, I could kiss the kid! Now Sin and I can steal a tête-à-tête. Apples on his breath, the otherwise earthy-animal essence of him—I get the strong weakness that defines me when he’s this near.

“I cannot believe you’re leaving me alone with her!” That makes two of us. “I’ve got to get Char back—Marsh will be out of her mind,” I murmur. “Besides, it might be smart to divide and conquer. Once I’m gone, Lady Loony’s guard will go down and you and she—”

He grips my arm reflexively. “You’re not suggesting I—we—consummate—”

The very idea makes me gag. “Of course not. Just . . .placate her. Distract her. Romance her.” What, I’m giving him a refresher course in how to be Sin? “And while you’re at it, scope Crane. I’ll meet you—”

The rustle of silk over taffeta tells me to can it. Antonia has led Charlotte to the mantel, the girl’s arms laden. My eyes on Sin’s—if only I could dive their depths, drown there.

Then I think, WTF: Antonia must realize what he means to me; she won’t buy a casual farewell. So I’ll make it a good-bye for the record books. I go to him. Fit my peaks and hollows to the topography of his frame. Press my full length against him—the muscles beneath the denim and cotton, my cheek to the triangular treasure of skin exposed at his V-neck. Take in the mingling of glandular excretions, the heart and brain and sex and soul and Sin of him. Demanding and devoted, under and around, my arms hold him like he’s mine. And with crush and comfort and purpose and promise, his body and everything that vessel contains owns me in kind.

Completely. For a breath, a beat. Then we part.

“Come, Char, let me have some of those,” I say, striving to keep the quaver from my voice. “You’ll need to grab onto the gate.” We stand at the hearth. I look to Sin. “Help me . . . help us find it.”

“Let it find you,” he says.

Since that’s how it’s done: surrender control, forget focus.

“The pinwheel!” cries Char; that’s how the fissure appears to her.

“Now close your eyes . . .”

And here is the gate, our iron ferry home. Don’t! warns a scared and selfish part of me. Don’t leave him! I acknowledge it, I validate it, and then I ignore it.

“Oh. Hey. Sorry.”

Two startled dudes in overalls leap from the fireplace as if scorched, one of them losing his hammer with a clunk.

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