Read Online One For Sorrow: The Veil Series, #5.5 by Pippa DaCosta - Free Book Online Page B

again, although I didn’t remember when—slower this time. He curled an arm around my waist and gripped my hand out to the side, the way I’d seen people slow dance on TV. I should stop him. Should stop this fantasy. We moved, stepping slowly, bodies so close but not touching. We didn’t need to touch. His warmth curled around me, embracing and evocative. I closed my eyes, just for a few moments. It felt like coming home to an open fire on a winter’s day, a comforting sense of familiarity and security. And I’d missed it, missed the feel of him, as if half of me had been hollowed out. I’d missed that completeness so much I’d gladly lose myself to the seduction. I settled my hand on his shoulder, hiding how much my fingers trembled. A few moments—just a few moments. I deserved that much, didn’t I?
    “You gave me hope,” he said.
    I tightened my grip. “Don’t.”
    “I believed I would never see you again.”
    I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t real. Was it? His arm tightened, drawing me in closer. Before I could stop myself, I’d laid my head against his shoulder. The feel of him, the rhythm of his body against mine, the warm, spicy taste of him on my lips—it all hurt, hurt inside the emptiness his leaving had left me with. I’d dealt with it. Moved on. A day at a time. A week. A month. But this stolen moment tore all those defenses down until I stood raw and broken in his arms.
    Reason told me this was dangerous. I didn’t listen. Didn’t care. Why couldn’t I dream just a few minutes more?
    “How are you here?” I asked. “The veil is closed.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then how?”
    “Does it matter? If we study the why, the moment may be lost.”
    “I hate you, you know.”
    His deep chuckle and the way it rippled through him had me biting my lip.
    “Some desires must be sacrificed.”
    This is wrong. We danced. The feel of him led me somewhere safe, somewhere the pain of loss couldn’t reach me. Twice, I’d lost him. The first time, grief had almost swallowed me whole. The second time, knowing him—the real him—in those last moments before the veil closed for good, was worse. To have the truth of him right in front of me, only for him to snatch it away again was unspeakably cruel. He could have let me live the lie. I had hated him. I still did. Hated. Loved. Muddled and twisted. But I understood why he’d had to end it there. He did it for me, for my freedom.
    “What does freedom truly taste like?” he asked, rousing me from my stupor.
    “Relief. Like summer rain.”
    “Was it worth it?” His chin brushed my forehead.
    The deaths. The war. Boston torn asunder. A love divided by two worlds. “Yes.” I believed it. I had to. Too much had been sacrificed. There was no use in mourning what had been lost. The future was where I was headed now. A cool slither of resolute determination stirred my dreamy state, mixing in a taste of reality. “Boston will come back stronger, and so will those who’ve lost so much.”
    “Are you stronger?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet you are half the thing you once were.”
    I stopped swaying and leaned back to look him in the eyes, eyes so dark, so captivating. Lifting a hand, I touched my fingertips to his cheek, tracing the familiar shape of his face. The last time I’d seen him, he’d told me he was sorry, and in that moment, my heart had broken. My fingers grazed a dash of stubble and then over the softness of his lips.
    It would be easy to believe.
    He caught my hand and stilled its roaming. His eyes narrowed, just slightly, and his lips tightened. “Stay. I can make this moment last forever.”
    A smile twitched across my lips. Of course this couldn’t last. And really, did I want it to? I pulled my hand free of his. “You see, that’s where demons always slip up. You don’t believe I see through you.” I loosened my hold on his shoulder, opening up a space between us, and looked into his amber eyes. “You’re good. Very good. But you can’t wrap your