The Night Children

Chapter 60

It was like my mouth fitted into his, as easy as a snowflake dancing in the wind. His lips were cracked but soft, his mouth pressing to mine in a way that was gentle but full of desire. It seemed at first as if he was hesitant, his lips unsure, his fingers barely brushing mine, but then heat seemed to surround us, bringing forth with it a fire that wasn't one of pain. But lust.

It consumed Isaac, wrapping around him as he brought me closer, his calloused finger tips moving to tilt my jaw. His touch, light as a feather brought a trailing line of flames with it. His body sent off an array of sparks, like fireworks that couldn't be tamed. I could hear the rapid beating of his heart, sense the emotion he was holding back but it was like all his emotions were pouring out through the movements of his lips. They parted against mine. Soft. Wanting. Desperate.

I tasted the way his smile used to burst over his lips, dimpling his cheeks in an act of smugness. I tasted the salt of blood and the icy sting of death. I traced the bow of his mouth with my own, taking in the softness of them. The realness of them.

His fingers mapped his desire, tracing my jawline to pause at my cheek. I could tell he was holding back, forcing himself to remain the boy he wanted to be seen as. Emotionless. Independent. Non-reliant.

I moved against his lips, bringing myself closer to move my hands to the nape of his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair. This was his undoing. The fire released, rinsing over us so there was nothing but our bodies together, separated by the openness of truth. His hair was as soft as his lips, his curls tickling my fingertips as his own hands travelled down my skin, moving from my cheek to my neck. I could feel his breath against mine, his lips telling a story. A story of loss and betrayal, of jealously and envy. Of liking to love to protectiveness. My body no longer felt the cold, it was only Isaacs skin against mine, nothing but strips of material separating the colliding of our bodies. His lips pressed harder to mine, his fingers patterning my skin slightly harder, as if he never wanted to let go. I parted my mouth against his, a whisper of a word escaping my lips.

"Isaac,"

His body unravelled against mine, drawing me into his arms so nothing separated the desire we felt. His mouth angled against mine, full of desire and need. All I felt was Isaacs mouth, Isaacs lips, Isaacs hands. They had travelled to grip my waist, perched as if needing to reassure himself I was here. That I was in his arms. Where I belonged.

He reminded me of a lion, nothing but strength and power in his actions but a certain gentleness, carefulness, caution and grace that awoke in his shadow. He was poised now, his muscles tense against mine, his lips on mine, his emotions becoming the better of him. I felt my heart turn over, whirling in my chest the way it did when the Parazonium had driven through his heart. But now I could feel its pulse, thundering against his chest and through his mouth. I couldn't think straight, my mind a whirl of thoughts but all coming back to one. Isaac.

A small moan escaped my lips, causing his fingers on my waist to tighten, his lips crashing onto mine as if fuelled by the sound. With one hand he drew me closer, enough for me to feel his stomach through what was left of my shirt. He whispered something into my mouth but the roar of the wind drowned it, and all I could sense was him against me.

This kiss wasn't a feverish kiss. It was one of truth. One that shared the memories that had been locked away. As he held me to him, his lips on mine, the softness of his touch undoing me, my mind travelled to the curly haired boy I had grown to love.

His fingers tracing the pattern of scars across my knuckles. His body against mine as he cradled me in bed, his eyes hazy with infection. The touch of his lips as I kissed him in my fever. The whisk of a shadow in my dreams. The glint of his flecks as he looked at me from across the room. But then there was the fear beneath his eyes as the dagger tore through my chest. The desperation painting his face as he reached for me, begging for me to keep breathing. There were his glassy eyes as he watched me from beside my hospital bed, his hands pressed into tight fists lifted to his mouth, his face angles of worry.