Page 19 of Born in Fire
“Counter-offer,” I say, signing the bill with a flourish. “To the corner of your street, in exchange for a goodnight kiss.”
The words surprise me as much as her. I don’t typically negotiate for physical contact. Women usually offer freely, eagerly.
Juno studies me, something calculating in her gaze. “That depends entirely on how the walk goes.”
Not a yes, not a no. A challenge.
We leave The Pinnacle and walk east, the night air cool against my skin. Juno maintains a careful foot of space between us, but the distance feels more like protocol than rejection. She points out her favorite buildings, architectural details I’ve never noticed despite centuries in this city.
“You have an artist’s eye,” I observe.
“I used to paint,” she admits. “Still do, sometimes.”
“What stopped you?”
Her step falters slightly. “Life. Bills. Reality.”
There’s more to that story, but I don’t press. Instead, I tell her about the time Caleb and I nearly capsized a sailboat in Elliott Bay, making her laugh again. The sound does something to my insides that I can’t quite name.
Too soon, we reach the corner she’s designated as her boundary. She stops, turning to face me.
“This is me.” She gestures vaguely down the street.
“So it is.” I step closer, testing her comfort. She doesn’t back away. “About that kiss…”
The word hangs in the air between us.
Her eyes meet mine, clear and direct. “I believe the terms were ‘depends how the walk goes.’”
“And how did it go?”
“Better than expected.” A small smile plays on her lips. “One kiss. No funny business.”
My heart lurches like it’s trying to escape. Ridiculous. I’ve kissed hundreds of women across the centuries. Why does this feel like the first time?
I lean down slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t. When our lips meet, the world narrows to a single point of contact.
Heat rushes through me; not the simple spark of desire but something deeper. Her scent envelops me—that unusual blend of herbs I’d picked up on earlier—triggering a possessive instinct so powerful I have to fight to keep the kiss gentle.
One of her hands rests lightly on my chest, neither pulling me closer nor pushing me away. Just touching, connecting. I could stay here for hours, learning the taste of her, the soft sound she makes when I tilt my head to deepen the kiss.
With monumental effort, I pull back. Her eyes flutter open, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed. She looks as stunned as I feel.
“That was…” she begins, then stops.
“Yeah,” I agree, though she hasn’t actually said anything.
We stare at each other for a long moment. My body hums with energy, every sense heightened. I can hear her quickened heartbeat, smell the subtle change in her scent that indicates arousal, see the pulse fluttering at her throat.
“I should go,” she says finally, taking a step back.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The dragon in me protests the separation, urging me to follow, to claim, to protect. I ruthlessly suppress him.
“Dinner,” I say, finding my voice. “Tomorrow? I know a place on the water.”
Tomorrow? What the fuck?
And yet, somehow, it feels too long to wait.
