A Touch of Death

Chapter 33

By the time they returned to his room, it was after sunset.

Unfortunately, there weren't any other useful fairy tale books in the library, and the few records of the War they'd found in the archives only served to confuse them farther. The human side apparently hadn't kept many journals or firsthand accounts besides those related to finances, and while those were something, it was difficult to piece together a story from ledgers alone.

Besides, Aoife spent the day utterly distracted. She couldn't get the thought out of her head that Tarran had tried to kiss her.

Tarran.

He'd tried to kiss her.

Tried was the active word, of course, as it certainly hadn't been a success for either of them, but the emotion was there and the effort was there! Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest every time she looked at him, like that one piece of reciprocation had thrown her world upside down and her senses into overdrive.

She was so distracted, in fact, that she nearly walked into the doorjamb while carrying a stack of books back to Tarran's room. Narrowly avoiding a crash, she managed to make it inside, putting the stack on a side table with a few other volumes he'd been studying.

Sighing, Tarran sat his own stack of books on the table and plopped down in one of the padded chairs beside it, no doubt planning to spend the rest of the night reading if he could get away with it. She wished he wouldn't push himself, but in a way... this was his solace. Looking for solutions brought him peace in a way that nothing else could. She couldn't bring herself to deny him that.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of that almost-kiss, couldn't stop the desire to kiss him goodnight and see how he'd react.

And maybe... maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"Could you... do something for me?" Aoife asked, cheeks already burning as she stepped closer.

"Anything. What do you need?" Tarran looked up, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to make her breath catch.

"Hold still?"

Tarran's brow furrowed, but he nodded.

Slowly and deliberately, Aoife walked towards him until their legs were nearly touching. Fighting waves of fear and embarrassment, she carefully sat herself on his empty lap, placing her hands on his shoulders. They were eye level this way, and she didn't miss the hitch in Tarran's breath as she drew closer, but he didn't protest or push her away when she gently pressed her lips against his.

Aoife relaxed against him as he moved to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His mouth opened under hers, deepening the kiss as his tongue gingerly slipped between his lips. It was impossible to hold back the low moan in the back of her throat, and Tarran's grip only tightened in response. She didn't know what she was doing, but enthusiasm more than made up for it.

When they finally broke apart for air, Tarran still didn't pull away. On the contrary, he held her even closer, hands splayed over her back and only a breath's space between them.

"I don't want you to go," she said quietly, resting her forehead against his.

"I might have to." Tarran's long fingers gently played with a lock of her dark, curly hair. "It's horrible of me to do this to you," he whispered.

"It's not," she insisted. "Tarran, you have to know, when I healed you... It felt like my magic was angry for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You told me once that magic might be sentient. That was the key that I needed to understand mine. It has this will all of its own, to an extent, and when it encountered the dregs of the curse swirling around inside you, it... attacked," she said helplessly. "I can signal it to stop when I'm not touching you, but it's like it wants off the leash."

"Attacked how?" Brow furrowed, Tarran grabbed Aoife's hands in his.

"You said there's a death curse in you. My magic is... it's life, and it doesn't like the very nature of that death curse. Something about it is unnatural. It feels foreign and wrong and cold, and it's... it's like the magic wants to chase it down of its own accord," she explained, shifting her weight a little. "I think it would chase it out of you entirely if you let me use it."

"Lack of control is all the more reason to hold back," Tarran said with a sigh, shaking his head. "Your magic recognizes you as its source, and it protects you as such... but if its primary goal becomes snuffing out a curse rather than protecting you, the effect could be drastic."

Deadly, he meant. The effect could be deadly.

"I'll stop before then," she said, biting her lip, but she couldn't meet his eyes. They both knew that if she decided it was time, she would keep pushing until it was impossible to push any longer. She would do it gladly for him, for a chance at living their lives together... and he would never, never let her risk herself.

"You know, I was wrong," he said slowly. "Your bleeding heart is going to save us all. I'm sure of it." Tarran slowly brought his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss.

"Please. Please, just give me a little more time. We'll figure it out."

"I would give you all my days if I could," he sighed. "Unfortunately, I am not in control of the clock."

"Then leave with me, please. Let's go home tomorrow, and I can use my magic enough to keep the curse at bay until we find a cure."

"I don't want-"

"If it hurts me, I'll stop. Please, Tarran," she begged. "Please. You told me you didn't want to die."

"Of course I don't, darling, but we all have to," he said softly, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Life is long, and mine is nearly gone. It's part of the cycle, remember?"

"Please," Aoife whispered, "Let me try."

A beat passed, and maybe something in her tone made Tarran understand that she wouldn't stop, wouldn't let this drop, wouldn't give up on his life, because when he finally spoke his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Okay," he nodded.

Aoife beamed, leaning forward to kiss him. He responded slowly, carefully, drawing her in close as though she was something precious or delicate, and her heart ached to have him this close all the time. When she finally pulled away, she wasn't fully conscious of her next words before they were already out of her mouth.

"Can... Can I stay here tonight?" she asked.

Tarran's mouth dropped open, a slow red flush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his pointed ears.

"To sleep!" she squeaked, suddenly blushing herself. "I just- I don't think I can sleep if I keep wondering if you're okay, and this way if something happens I'll already be here... I... am so sorry." Aoife covered her face with her hands, suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was still sitting on his lap and yet unable to bring herself to move.

"Stay," he said, laughing quietly. "I'd like that. Though, I'll be up for a while reading if you'd like to go ahead and sleep."

Aoife finally uncovered her face and was pleased to see him smiling, looking up at her in a mix of confusion and admiration. She nodded, lips pursed together to keep from grinning ear to ear, and slipped off his lap to walk towards the bed.

It was a massive, massive mattress, big enough to give them plenty of room, and that made her feel a little more comfortable. She wasn't sure how calm she would be tonight, either close to him or far away, but her body screamed for rest. At least this way she wouldn't wake up every hour wondering if Tarran was still breathing, and if she did... Well, he'd be right here.

That thought was enough of a comfort that she slipped off her shoes and tucked herself in, throwing a quick glance towards where Tarran was already buried in a book. A rush of warmth bloomed in her chest that had nothing to do with magic.

She could get used to a life like this, she thought. A life where she went to bed with Tarran still reading, knowing he would be there if she woke up. A life where they were together.

It was something that Aoife was willing to fight tooth and nail for, if she had to.

As Aoife slowly slipped into sleep, breathing in Tarran's scent from one of his pillows, she resolved that if nothing else worked, if Tarran's curse couldn't be broken in any other way, she would simply have to try things her way... with or without his permission.