A Strange Hymn by Laura Thalassa
Chapter 33
“Alright, what is lilac wine?” I ask.
The two of us are back in our rooms, Des’s jacket thrown haphazardly across the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his corded forearms, and my heels are kicked off, my hair cascading wildly down my back.
He leans against the wall, watching me, his arms crossed over his chest. “A drink.”
Awesome. Forthcoming Des has gone into hiding.
“You’ve got to give me more than that.”
Both Mara and Des had almost lost their shit over the wine.
“Contrary to your opinion, I actually don’t,” he says, his eyes glinting in the dim room.
Frustrating man!
“Listen,” I say, “if you don’t tell me, someone else will. This is your chance to set the record straight.”
His arms drop to his sides and he prowls forward. “Fine, you want me to set the record straight? Here it is, straight and clear: I have imagined giving you lilac wine a thousand times.” He comes right up to me, and something about his agitated mood has me backing up. “I imagined slipping it to you just as Mara did, coaxing you into drinking it when you didn’t know any better.”
My back hits a wall, and Des pins me in with his arms.
“I’ve even had it prepared before,” he says, reaching out and stroking the column of my throat with his thumb. “I had it in my fridge back on Catalina Island, and I’ve had it on hand in my palace.”
“What is it?” And why do you have to be deceitful about it?
His jaw muscles clench as he wages some internal war between telling me or not. Eventually, he gives into my questioning.
“Somewhere deep in time, fairies found a way to make their mortal lovers immortal,” he says.
His eyes look piercing, eager, as he speaks.
“They gave their human lovers lilac wine, and flesh that should’ve aged became ageless, and magic that was once imperfect became perfect. Two species became one.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, “why keep this a secret?” It’s not like I have anything against lilac wine, now that I know about it.
“Maybe I didn’t want to know your opinion. If you wanted to be immortal, it would mean you were okay to forsake all those things that make you so delightfully human—things I happen to love.”
Awwww.
“But if you didn’t want to be immortal, it would mean that you expected me to stand by and watch you age—watch you die.”
His gaze scours my face, deepening with sadness. Because I am aging. I will die long before he ever does.
“So you thought slipping me the wine was a better idea than getting my opinion on the matter?”
See, this is why couples need to talk about things. Healthy option versus unhealthy option here.
“If you notice, I have slipped you nothing,” he says.
“But you’ve considered it,” I counter.
“How many things have you considered? Does consideration make it wrong?” His lips brush my cheek.
I swallow. “What stopped you from giving me the wine?”
He pulls away a little, frowning. “The same thing that stopped me from taking you away the night of your prom and making you mine forever. I have enough broken humanity to know it’s wrong, and enough self-control to fight my innate nature.”
“And what’s your innate nature?” I say, my words whisper soft.
“To take what I want, when I want, and to apologize to no one for it.”
Yeesh.
“You want to know a secret?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Only if you drink the lilac wine will our bond be complete. Only then can we freely share our magic.”
