Daughter of Smoke and Bone - Laini Taylor [99]
Akiva came back toward her, a few halting steps, and stopped just out of reach. “We could wait,” he agreed, seeming lured by the idea. Then he added, very softly, “But it won’t get any easier.”
“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if it was something awful?”
He came closer, reached up and stroked her hair, once, slowly. Feline, she leaned into his touch. He said, “You don’t have to be afraid, Karou. How could it be awful? It’s you. You can only be beautiful.”
A shy smile tugged at her lips. She took a breath and said with resolve, “Okay then. Should I, um, sit down?”
“If you like.”
She went to the bed and climbed to its center, curling her legs under her and tucking down the hem of her orange dress, which she’d bought in the souk with the thought of Akiva seeing her in it. She had bought more practical apparel, too, for the journey and whatever might come after. It was packed in a new bag and ready to go, along with such mundane necessaries as she’d had to leave Prague without, having fled town so abruptly. She was glad Akiva had brought her knives—glad to have them, that is, and afraid of needing them.
He sat facing her, his legs long and easy, shoulders rolled forward in a way that accentuated their breadth.
It was then that Karou had another flash, a split in the surface of time, and a glimpse, within, of Akiva. He was sitting just like this, his shoulders heavy and relaxed in just that way, but… they were bare, as was his chest, and he was all tawny muscle, the right shoulder a snarl of scar tissue. Again, on his face, the smile that hurt with its beauty. Again, an instant and it was gone.
She blinked, cocked her head, and murmured, “Oh.”
“What?” Akiva asked.
“Sometimes I think I see you, in another time or something….I don’t know.” She shook her head and waved it off. “Your shoulder. What happened to it?”
He touched it, watching her intently. “What did you see?”
She blushed. There had been something so sensual about that moment, him sitting there shirtless and happy. She said only, “You… smiling. I haven’t seen you smile like that, not really.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“I wish you would,” she said. “For me.”
He didn’t. Pain flashed over his face and he looked down at his knuckles and then back up at her. “Come here,” he said, and reached out, easing the wishbone’s cord up and over her head. He hooked a finger around it. “Like this.”
She didn’t take it. She said in a rush, “Whatever happens, we don’t have to be enemies. Not if we don’t want to be. It’s up to us, isn’t it?”
“It will be up to you,” he said.
“But I already know—”
He shook his head, sorrowful. “You can’t know. You can’t know until you know.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “You sound like Brimstone,” she muttered, and set about composing herself. And then, finally, she lifted her hand to slip her pinkie around the wishbone’s free spur. Her knuckle came to rest against Akiva’s, and even that small contact kicked off an effervescence all through her.
Now, all they had to do was pull. Karou waited a beat, thinking Akiva would lead, but then she thought he was waiting for her. She checked his eyes—they were on hers, searing—and tensed her hand. The only way to do it was to do it. She started to pull.
This time, it was Akiva who jerked his hand away. “Wait,” he said. “Wait.”
He reached for her face, and Karou covered his hand with hers, pressing it to her cheek.
He said, “I want you to know…” He swallowed. “I need you to know that I was drawn to you—to you, Karou—before the wishbone. Before I knew, and I think… I think I would always find you, no matter how you were hidden.” He was focused on her with extraordinary intensity. “Your soul sings to mine. My soul is yours, and it always will be, in any world. No matter what happens—” His voice cracked, and he took a breath. “I need you to remember that I love you.”
Love. Karou felt bathed in light. The cherished word leapt to her own lips to answer him, but he beseeched her, “Tell me you’ll remember. Promise me.”
Here was a promise she could make, and did.