“Why that particular soul?” Deep consternation.
I shrugged mentally. “I don’t know. He sat at the gate with me once. He sang to it.” A mischievous thought worked its way into my mind. “But I also wouldn’t mind locking lips with Mikhail.”
“Mikhail?” True amazement, and… amusement?
“Hmmm, although I call him Growly Bear. He’s delicious, all muscles and creativity and caring, even though he likes to act gruff.” Delighted agreement.Wait.“Do you know him?”
A surge of affection, but all he said was, “Is that the whole list of who you want to kiss?”
I waited a moment. “Well, I’d kiss you, if you had lips.” The silence buffeted my ears, like great wings were beating all around me. I’d shocked Rumple? I held back a giggle.
“I have lips.” His voice wrapped around me like molten honey. “You’ve never mentioned wanting to kiss me before.” Something slid around my waist, and I leaned into it.
Oh holy what is this?I’d wondered about Rumple for centuries, but he’d never touched me in such a way before today. Never even hinted that he saw me as attractive. Of course, most of the time he’d known me, I’d been in a young body, so that was probably good. But now, I was an adult. A grown, four-hundred-year-old, probably already dead woman. Who could one hundred percent feel something stroking my hip and waist, and stopping right under my breast.
Was that his hand? Oh my bread and butter pickles, was it atentacle? I’d read enough alien smut to know that they could do things to a girl with their tentacles that were almost terrifying. Almost.
“Rumple? Do you have a… body here?” I stifled a nervous laugh. “I thought this was my imagination.”
“It’s not entirely,” he purred, the pressure easing on my waist as his hand—I could feel the fingers now—moved to my shoulder. I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. I’d never been able to act in this place before. I’d only felt.
Maybe my imagination was the key. I concentrated on reaching out, touching whatever was wrapped around me. “You have real arms,” I gasped, thrilled to feel firm, corded muscles. I hadn’t known before now if Rumple was human-shaped. I let my fingers trail up his forearms, then higher, taking in the smooth, strong shapes of his biceps and moving over his shoulders to his neck. His skin had an interesting texture, as if it bore thousands of tiny lines and shapes. Tattoos? The ends of his hair brushed my fingertips. “Long hair?” I mused, wrapping a small piece around my fingers. “It’s soft.” I took a moment to stroke it, wishing I had the courage to trace the lines of his face. I’d probably poke out his eye, though.
“Mmhm, you’re soft,” he hummed, and I felt a body wrapping around me as I floated. Arms, legs, and… a part that definitely wasn’t soft. I swallowed hard. If that was proportional, Rumple had to be eight feet tall.
“Good thing I like a challenge,” I said without thinking. Rumple’s laugh filled the silence, falling on me like dark petals, brushing against the corners of my mind and the body I was fighting to believe might really exist here. “Admit it, you made your body up.” I bumped my hips against him gently. “I’m going to imagine me with bigger boobs, then we’ll be even.”
“Little one, you are now and have always been perfect.” A hand stroked my face. “Perfectly formed in every way. Don’t change a thing.”
It was dark, and I was most likely imagining at least half of this, so I let myself rub my core against his Louisville slugger, my hands reaching over his shoulders to— “Wings,” I breathed. “How come everyone gets wings except me?” He nuzzled my neck, and I moved my face so that his invisible breath stirred the darkness near my lips. “Kiss me, Rumple?”
“I can’t, dearest one,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I would hurt you. You’re still healing.”
“Really?” I writhed against him, my hands tracing down the outer edges of his wings as far as I could reach. He shuddered under my touch. “Not even one kiss?” I let my lips rub his neck, and arched up suddenly, trying to get closer to his mouth.
“Isn’t stealing a kiss what landed you here?” he chided, the sweetness in his tone gone now. I felt an ache begin in my center.
“So itwouldbe stealing one,” I said, pulling back slightly. “Good to know.” Dangit. I’d been friend zoned by my own imagination.
“Maybe I don’t want to be one on a long list of those you want to kiss,” he whispered, his hands cupping my cheeks as I felt his chin rest on top of my head. “Me, Righteous, Mikhail… Did I leave anyone out?”
I narrowed my mind’s eyes. “Just one. Gavriel’s pretty hot, even if he’s the biggest jerk I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m repulsive, though, and he’d be more likely to unmake me than make out with— Hey, ow!” Rage, blistering and sudden, swept through my mind. “Rumple? Stop!” I pushed at the chest that was suddenly as hard as marble, and just as cold. The pain ceased, and the arms disappeared.
I floated for a while, the pain thrumming through me. A pinch of sorrow intruded on my suffering. And another whisper, so soft: “Forgive me.”
Then he was gone.
“Rumple?” I waited. “Are you... mad at me?” No response.
I floated, alone, for a while longer before the agony in my limbs began to return. This was a familiar process; I’d wake up soon and face the consequences of my choice to save Righteous. The pain, but also the heaviness of carrying it. The weight had almost begun to feel bearable, after the weeks of carving myself free of it.
The only unfamiliar part was that Rumple wasn’t there, singing to me. He always sang me back to my next life. My heart ached. What had I said? Was it teasing him about Gavriel?
Rumple was the only one I could count on for forever, I knew. And even if he did command me to take on bucketloads of evil, at least he’d always stayed to help me through those moments. He’d held me until I could open my eyes, and given me something to think about besides wanting to die. Normally, it was our guessing game—a silly, small thing that had become the very best part of my existence.
Maybe I had offended him when I tried to kiss him. I must have read the whole imaginary situation wrong. I croaked out a few words before the pain got too intense to speak. “Mea culpa, Rumple. Mea maxima culpa. I’m sorry.”
For the first time ever, there was no answer.
