Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Pressing a hand to her heart, the gold of her wedding band catching the light, Catalina blinked rapidly. “What a thing you say, and yes, I understand.” A roughness to her voice. “My Lorenzo was my heart’s mirror. I had a knowing with him that I’ve never experienced with any other my whole life. That comes only once, Illium. Only once. Even for an immortal, I think this must be true.”
“That’s why it’s so precious and so terrifying.” Pressing both hands to the edge of the counter, he pushed back, his spine rigid. “I freeze at times, not knowing what to do—and I’ve never been like that with us. If anything, I’ve been the one who takes chances, gets us into risky spots.” He wouldn’t speak of Aodhan’s past, wouldn’t share what his friend chose not to share with everyone.
But Catalina surprised him again. “That night he cooked the worst pasta in the history of pasta? He told me things. Enough to make me understand that he has no idea of courtship beyond that of light, youthful things.” Her eyes held his. “He hasn’t had small loves to prepare for this big love, and he never played the games youths play in matters of amore.”
Illium’s heart kicked.
Leaving the sauce to simmer and thicken, he dragged out a chair and spun it around to straddle it. “He told you?” Aodhan never told anyone his story, not really.
Catalina closed her hand with its strong baker’s fingers and fine mortal skin over his. “For you. He told me because he wanted my advice. He says I’m the oldest friend of yours that he knows—I don’t know if he meant that in time, for I’m sure you have far longer friendships.” A quick smile. “You’re like Lorenzo, constantly making friends.”
“But none like this,” he rasped, devastated to realize all over again that this friendship wouldn’t follow him into his next century of life. “None like you and Lorenzo.”
Her hand squeezed his with conscious gentleness, as if he was the more fragile of the two of them. “Living forever isn’t all roses, is it, Illium?” A tender smile, the age in her as vast as those of the Ancients he’d met, even though such was a thing impossible. “Aodhan told me so that we could talk without walls between us. He’s such a good man, compassion and a painfully deep ability to love woven inside the fabric of him, but a man bruised in ways I don’t think either of you understand.”
“I see the warrior, and I see his stubborn spirit, and I want to believe him healed,” Illium admitted. “It hurts me to think he might not be, that he’s still in pain.”
Catalina frowned. “I’m not sure it’s as conscious as that. He is strong and determined and I think he has conquered his demons—but only the ones he can see.”
Illium thought of Aodhan’s flinch at a loving touch, and at how appalled he’d been at his own inability to stride past that ugliness.
I conquered this.
Such anguish in that statement, but there’d been confusion, too, a sense of the ground becoming unstable under his feet.
“There are softer bruises that hide beneath the scars,” Catalina said. “I think the problem with the two of you is that you’re moving too fast. The touch on the hand comes first, Illium, not the passionate kiss. Those soft bruises hurt terribly—let them fade while you seduce him.”
I want this for us. The soft and the playful and the dance before the dance.
Illium decided then and there that he’d find a way to make their date happen while not taking Aodhan away from Marco and Tanika. Because this case, at this time, meant far more to Aodhan than anyone but those closest to him would ever understand.
Illium would not get in the way of that.
Neither would he steal from Aodhan all the experiences his best friend had missed while locked in amber at a time when Illium was playing the games of a young angel with those who were inclined to play with him. However, he had no fear that Aodhan wanted to experience those things with anyone but Illium—he’d had myriad offers and approaches since his initial arrival in New York, and had no doubt fielded many more in China.
Truth was that his best friend had always been far more judicious in his relationships than Illium, no matter if it was friendship or a bond more intimate. He took time to make his decisions and stuck true to them—and got irritated if questioned over those choices.
Illium was the one he wanted; on that score he’d been clear.
The touch on the hand comes first, Illium, not the passionate kiss.
Lifting Catalina’s hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. And though it was his wont to make a joke, be playful, he held her gaze and said, “I have to get this right, Catalina.” Even if fear was a constant whisper at the back of his brain.