Gravebriar

by Casey L. Bond

“I like you, Gravebriar,” Forge said out of nowhere. I smiled and swallowed a mouthful of cinnamon bread. “I like you, too, Silverthorn.” He locked eyes with me. “What if I told you that I more than liked you? What if I said I care about you? That I worry for you and not just myself anymore. What if I told you I have no idea how you’ve done it in just a matter of days, but you’re all I can think about?” “What if I replied that I was glad I occupy your thoughts, and that I have no plan to release my hold on them?” My tone was haughty, playful, though a swarm of bees buzzed happily through my stomach at his admission. The corner of his lips lifted. “What if I countered your reply by saying I’m not sure how to go about this? My entire life has been a falsehood.” I shrugged a shoulder. “What if I tell you mine has been, too? So, maybe the answer is to navigate the uncharted waters together.” “What if the waters are dangerous?” He scooted closer, swiping a crumb from my lip. His hand lingered, settling on my jaw. I leaned in, melting into his touch, then ran my fingers over the back of his hand and brought his palm to my lips, placing a slow kiss in its middle. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he breathed out, “Damn, Gravebriar.” Grinning, I reminded, “You keep saying that.” Instead of answering, Forge captured my lips with his. With his every kiss. Every small touch. Every gesture that showed me he wasn’t afraid… he captured a piece o...