A Cursed Gift

Chapter Five

I round the corner to Aaron's study. He isn't in his room, so I had assumed he'd be here. I assumed correctly.

He doesn't see me at first, but when he closes the packet of papers in front of him and leans back to rub his neck, he spots me. "Celeste!" he says happily, scrambling around his desk to embrace me. I stiffen at his touch, and he gets the message. His smile begins to fade. "Celeste?"

I take a step back, clearing my face into a reserved expression and clasping my hands in front of me. "Plead your case," I say, willing to listen to whatever he wants to tell me. But not willing to give back my trust so quickly.

His shoulders slump in relief. He still doesn't look thrilled because he knows there is a chance that I won't forgive him, but he still looks hopeful.

"Cellie, I am so sorry. I know, I know I should have told you, but I was terrified at how you might react. I just knew you would be mad, but I still shouldn't have let the herald tell you just because I was afraid you would be mad at me." He looked down at the ground, regretful. My heart broke a little bit when I saw his remorseful expression, but I steeled myself with the knowledge that he should have told me. Even if I had gotten angry at him had he had told me himself, I would have forgiven him faster because he had been strong and told me himself, instead of letting someone tell me. And that's exactly what I plan on telling him.

"Aaron, you know that I would have been mad even if you had told me." He looks at his feet, ashamed, but, even at this angle, I could see that hope flickering in his eyes. "But I would have forgiven you faster because you had decided to face me despite your fears. Now, I will give you my forgiveness, but not my trust."

He looks up at me, stunned. He searches my eyes for any hint of a joke and, finding none, grins from ear to ear. He grabs me by my waist and swings me around, holding me tight. I squeal and giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck and thread my fingers through his hair. "Thank God," he breathes, setting me down on my feet. I sway a little with dizziness. I keep my hands in his hair to steady myself.

His grin fades, and he begins to stare at me intently, scrutinizing my face. I furrow my brow.

"Amore?" I say, not sure what he was thinking.

"Don't move," he instructs, and kisses me.

The gentle whisper of his lips against mine releases something within me, something wild and foreign and totally primitive, something that makes me hold his head closer to mine and part my lips. Aaron, feeling my passion, grips my waist to pull me more firmly against him and deepens the kiss.

After a moment, I realize what I'm doing. This is treason.

But I can't bring myself to care.

I kiss him harder, losing myself in the sweet taste of him and the possessive touch of his hands on my body. We breathe each other's air, somehow getting the oxygen we need.

We break away from each other, breathing hard and smiling so hard our cheeks hurt.

"You kissed me back," he says in wonder, tracing my sore lips with his thumb. "I've wanted to do that ever since we were ten."

"Ten? What made you decide to kiss me now?" I ask, breathless and savoring the taste of his tongue.

A muscle in his jaw works, and his wild grin fades. The light in his eyes fades from exhilarated to tragic. "Because it's the last chance I'll have," he replies, looking torn.

I lick my lips. "I guess we'll have to make the most of it then," I say, closing the gap between our lips. We kiss once more, Aaron's hands coming up to cradle my face. This time it's more gentle and less desperate, sweeter and more perfect.

I could do this all the time.

When I pull away, somewhat reluctantly, I crack my eyes open the smallest bit, just enough to see my hands resting on his neck.

And the damning 6 tattooed onto the flesh of my wrist.

   "My soulmate," I murmur.

   "What?" Aaron says, hurt shining in his eyes.

"What happens when I meet my soulmate in six days, amore?" I ask him, my heart breaking at the prospect of losing something I never truly had: Aaron.

"I don't know," he says sadly. "Hopefully he's as much of a butthead as Annette." I laughed, leaning my forehead against his.

"Hopefully."

Translations:

Amore- love

Sorry for the late update, but I hope that you felt it was worth it.

Love y'all,
TheGoatTwins