Crave (Crave Series)

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Crave (Crave Series) Page 40

by Tracy Wolff


  When my phone vibrates immediately, I’m almost afraid to look at it.

  Afraid I’ve gone too far.

  Afraid I’m pushing too fast.

  Jaxon: Good, because I like the way you taste

  It’s corny and unoriginal and that doesn’t matter at all, because swoon. For a boy who tries to be so implacable, Jaxon’s got serious game. I mean, really. What girl is supposed to resist a text like that? Or the guy who texted it, when he’s also the guy willing to fight wolves and dragons and anyone else who comes for her?

  Not me, that’s for sure.

  Lia, on the other hand, makes a little gagging sound as she reads over my shoulder. “Wow, Jaxon. Sappy much?”

  “I like it.” Still, I blank out my phone screen and shove it back into my pocket. No need for her to see anything else Jaxon might decide to write to me.

  I tingle a little at the thought.

  “So we raincheck tonight?” Lia says as she pushes open the door to the art studio. “And do facials tomorrow?”

  It sounds like a plan to me. But after everything she just revealed, I can’t help asking, “Are you sure? I can go see Jaxon after we have our girls’ night.”

  “And make me the one responsible for standing in the way of true love?” she snarks. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, it’s not like that,” I tell her, even as a part of me melts at the description. “We’re just…hanging out.”

  “Wanna bet?” Lia asks with a snort. “Because the Jaxon Vega I’ve known my whole life doesn’t almost start a war over a girl he just wants to ‘hang out’ with.”

  53

  If This Kiss

  Is Going to Start a War,

  it May as Well

  Be Worth It

  Lia’s words are still ringing in my ears several hours later as I’m trying to figure out what to wear to Jaxon’s room for our…date. Logically, I know he won’t care, but I care. I haven’t exactly been at my best since I got to Katmere, and just once I’d like to knock his socks off.

  “You should go with the red dress,” Macy says from where she’s sitting cross-legged on my bed, watching me agonize over my clothes choice. “Guys love red. And that dress is killer, if I do say so myself.”

  She’s right. The dress is amazing, but… “You don’t think it’s too obvious?”

  “What’s wrong with obvious?” she demands. “You’re crazy about him. He obviously feels a whole lot of something for you or he wouldn’t have nearly ripped Cole’s throat out in the lounge today. There’s nothing wrong with letting him know you dressed up for him.”

  “I know that. It’s just…” I hold up her red dress for the ten millionth time. “This is a lot of dressing up.”

  “There’s not enough material for it to be a lot of anything,” Macy snickers.

  “Yeah, that’s kind of my point.”

  The red dress is amazing, no doubt about it. And I bet it looks gorgeous on Macy. But with all its geometric cuts and angles and the absolute lack of fabric near anything important, it’s about as far from my usual style as I can get. Which is fine, I guess, except whatever happens with Jaxon tonight (or doesn’t happen), I want it to happen when I look and feel like me.

  “I think I’m going to go with the yellow one,” I decide, reaching for the dress in question. It still has spaghetti straps, but the neckline is a little higher than the red one, and it should actually hit below my knees when I put it on, versus the top half of my thighs, like the red one.

  “Seriously? That’s my least favorite one of the bunch.” Macy makes grabby hands for it, but I move back so it’s out of her reach. “I mean, my dad picked it out for me.”

  “Well, I like it. And the fact that it doesn’t scream that I want to get naked with him.”

  “Says the girl who got up to all kinds of naughty stuff in his room today,” she says with a smirk.

  “I never should have told you that! And it’s not like we got naked. We just made out.” I take off my uniform and slip into the dress. “The dress is just to make a point.”

  “And what point is that exactly?” She gets off the bed and starts tugging on the skirt to help it fall into place over my ridiculous curves. “Oh, right. The point that you lust after Jaxon’s sexy, sexy body.”

  “I thought you didn’t like Jaxon.” I shoot her a smug look. “I mean, aren’t you the one who told me how dangerous he was and that I should stay far, far away from him?”

  “And look how well you listened.” She crosses to her dresser and starts opening and closing the myriad assortment of little doors on the jewelry box she has perched on the top of it. “Besides, just because he scares me doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate how sexy he is for you,” she says in a deliberately deep and funny voice. “Plus that gorgeous bite mark he left on you? Swoon.”

  Swoon is right. Every time I see it in the mirror, it makes me want to melt. “Everything about Jaxon is gorgeous to me,” I tell her as she crosses back over to me, a pair of dangling gold earrings in her hand.

  “Try not to salivate on the dress,” she answers dryly. “Drool is so last decade.”

  I stick my tongue out at her, but she just crosses her eyes at me. “Save that for Jaxon.”

  “Oh my God! Are you trying to embarrass me to death before I ever make it to his room?”

  “What’s there to be embarrassed about? You’re head over heels for him; he’s head over heels for you… I say go for it.”

  “Can you please just give me the earrings so I can get out of here?” I demand, holding my hand out for them.

  “Stay still and I’ll put them in for you. The clasp is kind of tricky.” She leans over and slides one of the earrings into my earhole. “Wow, you smell good enough to eat… Oops. I mean drink.”

  “I swear to God, Macy…”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop messing with you.” She moves to put the second earring in. “It’s just so fun to watch you blush.”

  “Yeah. So much fun,” I deadpan as she struggles to fasten the second earring.

  Finally the clasp slides into place, and she steps back. “How do you stay so still?” she asks as she straightens out the skirt of my dress. “I swear you’re a statue. It barely felt like you were breathing while I was putting that earring in.”

  “Terror that you were going to slip and rip the thing out of my ear. Or poke me in the eye,” I tease.

  She makes a face at me as I slip my feet into the one nice pair of heels I brought with me. They’re nude and strappy, so they go with almost anything. Including, thankfully, this yellow dress.

  “So how do I look?” I do a little twirl in the center of the room.

  “Like you’re going to need another blood transfusion by the time Jaxon’s done with you.”

  “Macy! Stop it!”

  She just grins as I make my way to the door. “Seriously, you look amazing. You’re going to knock that vamp’s socks off.”

  This time when I blush, it’s from excitement. “You really think so?”

  “I know so.” She motions for me to twirl around again, so I do. “Also, I’ll bet you ten bucks that dress is going to be missing buttons when you finally make it back here.”

  “Okay, that’s it!” I give her a mock glare as I head for the door.

  But she just grins and crosses her eyes at me, all of which makes me laugh ridiculously hard. And calms me down, which I know is exactly what she was intending.

  It’s so strange. Before this week, I hadn’t seen Macy in ten years. We were virtual strangers. And now I can’t imagine going back to life without her.

  “Don’t wait up,” I say as I make my way out the door.

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” she tells me with a snort. “FYI, I’m going to need all the details. And I mean all. So you should probably pay really close attention to ever
ything that happens so you get them right.”

  “Absolutely,” I agree, just to tease her. “I’ll take notes. That way I won’t forget anything.”

  “You think you’re being funny, but I’m serious. Notes would be extremely helpful.”

  I roll my eyes. “Goodbye, Macy.”

  “Come on, Grace! Let a girl live vicariously through you, will ya?”

  “Why don’t you go find Cam? Do a little non-vicarious living of your own?”

  She considers it. “Maybe I will.”

  “Good. And you should totally wear the red dress when you do. After all, guys love it when you’re obvious.”

  She flips me off and throws a pillow at me that I only narrowly manage to dodge.

  “Temper, temper,” I tease, then hightail it out the door before she decides to throw something at me that will really hurt. Or, you know, cast some kind of spell that makes all my hair fall out. There are perils to living with a witch, after all.

  My palms are sweating and my heart is beating a little too fast as I make my way to the tower room. Maybe I should have come up right after classes, like I wanted to, because all the preparation—the hair, the makeup, the dress deliberation—has done is give me more time to think.

  And more time to get nervous.

  Which is ridiculous. This is Jaxon. He’s seen me falling out of a tree and nearly bleeding to death. He’s saved my life several times since I got here. He’s seen me looking my worst—why am I suddenly so determined that he see me looking my best? It’s not like I actually think he cares if I straighten my hair and put on high heels.

  I tell myself all of this on the way to his room—and I even believe it. But my hands are still trembling when I knock on his door. And so are my knees.

  Jaxon opens the door with a sexy grin that turns to total blankness the second he sees me. Which is definitely not the reaction I was hoping for after spending the last two hours getting ready.

  “Am I early?” I ask, discomfort suddenly racing through me. “If you want, I can come back later—”

  I break off as he reaches for my wrist and gently tugs me into his room—and his arms. “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs against my ear as he hugs me tight. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  The ball of tension in my stomach dissolves as soon as he wraps himself around me.

  As soon as I smell the sexy orange and fresh water scent of him.

  As soon as I feel the strength and power of his body against and around my own.

  “You look pretty amazing yourself,” I tell him. And he does, with his ripped jeans and bright-blue cashmere sweater. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you wearing something other than black.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s keep that between us.”

  “Absolutely.” I keep my arms wrapped around his waist as I grin up at him. “Wouldn’t want to mess up that badass reputation of yours.”

  He rolls his eyes. “What is it about my reputation you’re so obsessed with?”

  “The fact that everybody feels like they need to warn me against being with you. Obviously. I’ve never dated anyone like you before.”

  I’m teasing, but the second the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. After all, it was only this morning he was telling me how worried he is about hurting me. Just because that fear seems ridiculous to me, considering he’s never been anything but gentle with me, doesn’t mean he doesn’t take it very, very seriously.

  Sure enough, Jaxon pulls away. I try to grab on, but there’s no holding him if he wants to go.

  “I hurt you once, Grace,” he says after a second, eyes and voice deadly serious. “It’s not going to happen again.”

  “First of all, let’s be clear. You didn’t hurt me. A piece of flying glass hurt me. And secondly, I know I’m safe with you. I already told you. I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.”

  He studies me for a second, like he’s trying to decide if I’m telling the truth. He must decide I am, because eventually he nods, reaches for me again. And this time when he pulls me against him, he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine.

  It’s different than the kiss we shared earlier, softer, gentler. But it reaches inside me all the same. Lights me up. Turns me inside out with everything I feel for him and everything I hope he’ll let himself feel for me.

  But tonight isn’t about wishing for what might be. It’s for celebrating what is, so I lock that thought down deep inside me and hold on to Jaxon with everything I have. And everything I am.

  The kiss lasts forever, the soft whisper of his mouth against mine, and still he pulls away too soon. Still I’m clutching at him, fingers tangled in his shirt, my body straining against his as I try desperately to hold him to me for just a little longer.

  But when I finally let him go, when I finally open my eyes, the Jaxon staring down at me isn’t the one I’m used to seeing. There’s no regret in his dark eyes, no scowl on his face. Instead, he looks lighter, happier than I’ve ever seen him.

  It’s a good look on him, one that has me breathless for a whole host of different reasons. I wonder if he feels the same way about me, because for several long seconds, we don’t move at all. We just stare at each other, eyes locked, breaths held, fingers entwined.

  There’s a bubble of emotion inside me, and it grows with every second I get to look at him. Every second I get to touch him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it that it takes me a few minutes to recognize it as happiness.

  Eventually, he turns away, and the loss I feel is a physical ache inside me. “What are you doing?” I ask, watching as he rummages in his closet.

  “Much as I love that dress, you need a hoodie,” he answers, pulling out a heavy fur-lined one from The North Face…in black, of course.

  He slides my arms into the sleeves, zips it up. Pulls the hood over my head. Then he grabs the red blanket off the end of his bed and says, “Come on.”

  He reaches a hand out to me, and I take it—how could I not? Right now, there isn’t anywhere I wouldn’t follow this boy.

  And that’s before he pulls back the curtains that cover his window, and I get my first look at what’s waiting for us.

  54

  What Could

  Possibly Be More

  Interesting than

  Kissing Me?

  “Oh my God!” I gasp, all but running to the window. “Omigod! How did you know?”

  “You’ve only mentioned them like, three different times,” he answers, sliding the window open and climbing onto the parapets before holding his hand out to me.

  I follow him outside, my eyes glued to the sky spread in front of us. It’s lit up like one giant rainbow, the background an incredible, intense purple while swirls of periwinkle and green and red dance across it.

  “The northern lights,” I breathe, so caught up in the incomparable beauty of them that I barely feel the cold…or Jaxon draping his super-warm blanket around me.

  “So do they live up to your expectations?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind so that I’m snuggled up in the blanket and his arms.

  “They’re even better,” I tell him, a little astonished at how intense the colors are and how fast the lights are moving. “I’ve only seen pictures before this. I didn’t know they’d actually move like this.”

  “This is nothing,” he answers, pulling me closer. “It’s early yet. Wait until they really get going.”

  “You mean there’s more?”

  He laughs. “So much more. The higher the velocity of the solar winds hitting the atmosphere, the faster they dance.”

  “And the colors are all about the elements, right? The green and red are oxygen and the blue and purple are nitrogen.”

  He looks impressed. “You know a lot about the lights.”

  “I’ve loved them since I was a kid. My
dad painted a mural on my bedroom wall when I was seven. Told me he’d bring me here to see them one day.” I can’t help thinking about how he didn’t get to keep that promise. And about all the other promises that were lost when he was.

  Jaxon nods and hugs me tighter. Then he turns me around so that I’m facing him. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do.” The answer is instinctive and comes from the deepest, most primitive part of me.

  He knows it, too. I can see it in the way his eyes widen, feel it in the way his heart is suddenly thudding heavily against my own. “You didn’t even have to think about it,” he whispers, fingers stroking reverently down my face.

  “What’s there to think about?” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

  He closes his eyes then, rests his forehead against mine for a few moments before taking my mouth with his.

  He kisses me like he’s starving for me. Like his world depends on it. Like I’m the only thing that matters to him.

  I kiss him right back the same way, until I can barely breathe and the colors behind my eyes are brighter than the aurora borealis. Until it feels like I’m flying.

  “Maybe I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” Jaxon murmurs after a few minutes, his lips still pressed against mine.

  “Heights? Not really,” I answer, sliding my hands through his hair and trying to get him to kiss me again.

  “Good.” He moves my right hand until it’s at my throat, so that I’m able to keep the blanket around me by clutching both corners in one fist. “Hold on to that blanket.”

  And then he grabs my left hand and spins me out fast and sharp, like they used to do in those old-time swing dances.

  I gasp at the fast, jerky movement—and the fact that through it all, I can’t feel the ground beneath my feet. Then scream a few seconds later as I get my first good look at the sky since Jaxon started to kiss me.

  We’re no longer on the parapet looking up at the northern lights. Instead, we’re floating at least a hundred feet above the top of the castle, and somehow it feels like we’re right in the middle of the aurora borealis.

 

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