Widdershins (Whyborne & Griffin #1)

by Jordan L. Hawk

It was madness; it was folly; it was sheer selfishness. I was delusional, misguided, wrong, out of control. I needed to pull back, to say something sane, to re-establish mastery over myself. I could not do this. I could not take this risk. Later tonight, I’d relive this moment in my lonely bed and wonder if I’d done the right thing. But at least that would be familiar, would be something I knew how to cope with. And yet the very thought felt like dying. I surged forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing my lips to his. It was awkward and desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against mine sent a bolt of electricity straight down my spine. Just a moment, just this one kiss, surely that would be enough… Then he kissed me back, and it would never be enough, a thousand years of this would not be enough. His mouth was hungry and insistent, his tongue probing my lips, asking for greater intimacy. I granted it, tongues swirling together, mine following his when it retreated and tasting him in return. There came the clanging of bells in the distance, the fire company alerted to the explosion. Griffin drew back a fraction. His breath was as ragged as mine, which left me dazed with wonder. “My dear,” he whispered against my lips. Then he swallowed convulsively. “We should leave, before the fire companies come.” “Y-Yes.” It was amazing I managed that much coherence. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling. “Will you come home w...

The thud of sturdy boots against the ground broke me out of my confusion. Griffin fell to his knees and pulled me tight against him, his face pressed into my hair, tears hot against my scalp. A moment later, Christine was there was well, her arms around Griffin and me. “Damn it, Whyborne,” she muttered thickly. “I’m not crying, do you hear?” I couldn’t reply, my throat too tight or my heart too big, and simply clung to them both. After a few minutes, Father loudly cleared his throat. Christine let go of me, and Griffin drew away—but his hand still rested on my back, as if he couldn’t bear not to touch me, to prove to himself I was real and alive.

She shook hands with Griffin as well. “Goodbye, Griffin. Do try not to require rescuing before I return.” “I shall do my best.” “See that you do. Gentlemen.” With a brief nod, she strode off, having not so much glanced at my father. Given some of the things he had been party to, I supposed it was just as well.