The Ends of the World (The Conspiracy of Us #3)(87)

No matter what, though, I didn't want to think about the future right now. The past was easier. I touched another scar. "What's the story of this one?" I said, but he could tell something was wrong. He stroked the back of his hand over my cheek with a questioning eyebrow raise.

I circled my finger around the scar on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm just trying not to think that this could be the only-"

He plucked a sweet-smelling white flower from my hair. "I know."

"We need mint tea to concentrate on," I whispered.

He took another flower from my hair, and I knew we were both thinking about how he'd taken out my bobby pins that first day on the plane, when we had just met and the intimacy of it was completely inappropriate. "I'm relatively certain," he said, "that I'll be able to find other ways to distract you."

This time, I was the one who took his hand and pulled him out of the room, and for the rest of the night, I didn't think about the future or the past. The present was enough.

He guided us past the wing that had been closed off after the Dauphin family had been infected. Past the hall where Luc's bedroom was. He plucked another flower from my hair, and another, tossing them on the floor like a trail of bread crumbs up narrow stairs, to a hallway that was never meant to be for the public. To a bedroom. Small, all white.



       
         
       
        

"Your room," I asked around the edge of a kiss.

"Is this okay?" he said.

"Yes." It was warm and still and soft inside, homey and cozy like the Dauphins hadn't touched it since he'd left. Stellan pulled the small round window open a crack. Outside, a firework exploded in the distance with a pop and a sizzle.

"Kuklachka. My little doll." The single candle on a tall bureau threw a pool of light against the wall, enough to illuminate the small room softly. I could tell he wanted to say more, but he wasn't sure how. I understood anyway, and instead I kissed him again. And again. And again.

I was so afraid that we'd been playing at being kings and queens, and under it all, I was nothing but a girl, after all. Terrified that nothing I did mattered. Terrified that it did. But I wasn't scared of this. Is this what being in love was? I wasn't worried about doing or saying too much, or the wrong thing. I wasn't worried about feeling too much or the wrong thing.

My head swam with heat and the scent of the candle and the taste of his skin. Being so close to him was overwhelming, and all I wanted was to be closer. We made our way across the room slowly, until the backs of my legs hit the end of the bed.

The flutter and snap of the curtains, candlelight golden and glowing on his skin and on mine, flickers of life painting a canvas. The world was exploding around us, and we were a glow at its soft, warm center.

My skin took every careful touch and multiplied it by the electricity in my blood, and my heart beat in time with my thoughts, with every kiss, with every time I whispered I love you, I love you, I love you.

He checked in with me every step of the way, and I knew that if I wanted to stop, we would. But I didn't. So we didn't. And I was his and he was mine, and for tonight, that was all that mattered.





CHAPTER 25



As was often the case, Stellan and I were awake hours before anyone else the next morning.

Last night, we'd managed to let ourselves forget about what was going to happen today. Though we didn't so much as mention the scientists or the mice or the virus this morning, I could tell he was trying very hard to distract me enough that neither of us would think about it. It didn't work, of course, but it managed to keep the knot of nerves in my throat at bay until we couldn't deny reality any longer.

We'd told Nisha I'd be ready by nine. When we made our way downstairs, I was tousling my freshly showered hair with one hand, holding Stellan's hand with the other. Luc looked up from his croissant. "Good morning," he said, and grinned at me and Stellan, then cut his eyes pointedly at the next chair over, where Stellan's jacket and shirt were folded neatly. "How did everyone sleep? You two certainly look . . ." 

Colette, sitting next to him, smacked the back of his head.

"Ow," Luc pouted. "I was just going to say well rested. And . . . clean." She tried to smack him again, and he ducked with a grin. And then his face dropped.

We all turned to see Nisha standing in the doorway. "All the mice are still alive." Her voice was bright and confident, but she was twisting her hands nervously.

I wasn't a mouse. None of us said it. Stellan's hand clenched in mine.

For a brief moment, I wanted to take it all back. I couldn't do this after all. This wasn't how I wanted everything to end. Maybe there was another way.