56

Falling

When we got back to the hotel room, I went out onto the balcony, and watched as bearded vultures languidly soared above the treetops. Twanging rock wafted softly from the Ugly Vulture bar nearby, and the air buzzed with insects and wildlife. Even though it was late enough in the evening that the stars were coming out, it was still so hot, the air seemed to stick to my skin.

But I liked being outside anyway. Being able to see the amethyst sky, to hear the sounds of life, to feel the air around me. I leaned against the railing and pushed away thoughts of the Älvolk dungeon from my head.

The Omte palace reminded me a bit of that. The low ceilings, the darkness, everything smelling of must and decay.

Despite the heat, I shivered.

“Are you okay?” Pan joined me on the balcony.

His shirt was unbuttoned. He’d been undressing to change out of his nice dress shirt, but had stopped halfway through to check on me. My hands still trembled, and I let out a shaky breath.

“I’m okay,” I told him with a weak smile. “I thought for a minute that . . .” I swallowed back tears, and he slid his arm around my waist, hugging me to him. “I thought she was going to lock us up and throw us in the dungeon. I never would’ve forgiven myself if I got you pulled into that again.”

“You took a risk to save the kingdoms,” Pan said. “And we’re not locked up. We’re free, and we’re okay.

“You did cash in the one and only favor you’ll probably ever get from Bodil,” he added after a long pause.

“I know, but it seemed like the only option,” I said. “She wouldn’t be swayed by anything other than self-preservation. And we need everyone we can get.”

“Ten Omte soldiers are worth fifty from the other kingdoms,” Pan said, repeating a common expression. But based on all the misinformation I’d learned about the Omte, I assumed that was a half-truth at best.

I leaned into Pan, resting my cheek against his bare chest, and I wrapped my arms around him. “I hope so.”

“You are brave for going up to the Queen like that.” He kissed the top of my head, and then, with his words nearly lost in my hair, he said, “I love you, Ulla.”

Four simple words, and my whole body felt light and tingly. I had heard him say it before, in the memory, but that didn’t lessen the way it felt hearing him say that.

I had never in my entire life heard anyone say that. At least, not anyone over the age of twelve.

Breathless and elated and warm and terrified and safe, but mostly I felt totally and completely in love with Pan. When I looked up into his eyes, so warm and dark like black tea on a winter morning, I knew that I loved him with every part of my being.

He put his hand on my face, his thumb caressing my cheek, and in a husky voice, I told him, “I love you.”

He kissed me then, and I think he meant to be gentle, but his fervor matched mine, and his hand pressed to the small of my back.

When we parted, I breathlessly confessed, “You told me that once before.”

“Did I?” he asked in confusion.

“You did.” I put my hand to his chest, suddenly worrying that I was doing the wrong thing by telling him. Or maybe I had done the wrong thing by not telling him sooner?

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“When we were in the dungeon.” I lowered my eyes, staring down at the exposed bronze skin of his chest, and I toyed with the collar of his shirt. “I remembered it when the Ögonen tried to recover memories. We kissed and . . . you told me you loved me. Before the spiders came.”

He waited a beat before asking, “What did you say?”

“That I love you too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” he asked in a quiet way where I couldn’t tell if he was upset or not.

“I don’t know. I felt like it wasn’t my place . . .” I trailed off. “I mean, you didn’t remember it, and maybe your feelings changed.”

Pan laughed warmly, and then he put a finger under my chin, gently forcing me to look up at him. “Ulla, I was falling for you when we went to Sweden, and the only thing that’s changed about my feelings is that I care about you more every day that I spend with you.”

I kissed him then. My hand slid around the back of his neck, pulling him to me. His arms were around me, and I felt his hands through the thin fabric of my dress. We were moving but I hardly noticed until I backed into the window next to the balcony door. The glass was cool from the A/C in the room, and it sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

Pan was still kissing me, pinning me between his body and the window, and I loved the way it felt—his body blocking out the rest of the world so it was only me and it was only him.

I knotted my fingers in his thick curls and arched my back to press myself against him as a heat intensified in my belly, and a small moan escaped my lips.

“Maybe we should go inside,” Pan murmured.

“Let’s go.” I took his hand and led him into the room.

He ditched his shirt as soon as we were inside, and then we were kissing again. He fell back onto the bed, then propped himself on his elbows. I pulled my dress up over my head.

For a second, I stood in front of him, only in my bra and panties, so my pale, chubby body was completely on display. I fought the urge to hide all my exposed flesh with my arms, and when I saw Pan’s eyes—dark and smoldering with lust and hunger—I stood taller. In that moment, I knew I looked as beautiful as I felt.

Pan reached forward, pulling me down onto the bed with him. His mouth was on mine, hungrily kissing me, as his fingers explored the tender parts of my body, and I moaned against him.

“I want you,” I breathed.

In a flash, he’d slid off his pants and boxers, and I took off my bra. From the pocket of his pants, he pulled a condom out, and he hurriedly tore it open and slipped it on. He kissed me again, and his hand went down, looping his fingers through my panties to help me slide them down.

Finally, wonderfully, he eased himself inside me, and I moaned in relief. Quickly, he found a rhythm, and I dug my fingers into his back as he kissed my neck. We moved together until I felt the heat rising inside me. I bit my lip to keep quiet, and Pan moaned in my ear before covering me in kisses.

He collapsed on his back beside me and pulled me into his arms, so I rested my head on his chest. He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back.

“So,” he said. “I know we talked about our relationship status before, but a lot of things have changed.”

I laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“And I know how you’re feeling.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But I would like it if you were my girlfriend.”

I looked up at him. “I think I would like that too.”

He kissed me on the lips. Our hands were intertwined—my right and his left—and with my other hand, I absently ran my fingers through his hair.

“Jem-Kruk told me about this álfar word once,” I said.

“What was it?”

“Veloma means the one you choose to be with,” I said.

“Veloma,” he repeated. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” I agreed. “But I’m very happy to be your girlfriend.”

“And my veloma,” he said, and then I pushed myself up so I could kiss him again.