Friky: переводы

→“No. Dead. Serious. I mean, how am I supposed to know? I’m not exactly experienced—not like you are.”

→“Huh?” I said brilliantly.

→“Promise?”

→“Heehees,” I said. Then I linked my arm with his. “You’re just trying to distract me from the Neferet stuff, aren’t you?”

→“I think she’s full of shit, but it’s too many words and doesn’t start with an m, so that’s as close as I could get,” he said.

→“I heard that!” Aphrodite called over her shoulder. “Oh, and FYI, Z, I had a luggage emergency, as in I didn’t have enough of it, so I’m confiscating that suitcase you bought the other day. I’m off to do some power packing. Later, peasants.” She slammed the thick, wooden door to the castle, which really took some doing.

→“Look, Aphrodite, Damien isn’t a fluttery gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I really wish you’d be nicer about both of them.”

→“Yeah, ‘she’ took it well. Wonder how that other one will take it, since she’s exponentially worse than Miss Jack.”

→“Mental and mean pop into my head,” I said.

→I smiled and mouthed thank you to Stark. “Sounds perfect, Jack. I won’t worry about a thing if I know you’re in charge of the decorations and the music.”

→“Is what true? That you’re a pain in the butt?” I said.

→Aphrodite acted like Stark hadn’t spoken and walked up to me. “Is it true?”

→“It can bother me, though,” Stark said. “Shouldn’t you be pulling the wings off seagulls or the claws off crabs?”

→One fine blond eyebrow lifted mockingly. “I don’t think happiness is the piece she just gave Stark.”

→We didn’t leave the grove for hours. Later I would remember that night as one of the happiest of my life. In the chaos of the future, the memory of being wrapped in Stark’s arms, sharing touches and dreams, and for that moment in time being completely, utterly content, would be something I cherished, like the warm glow of candlelight on the darkest of nights.

→* * *

→I couldn’t wait any longer. I nicked his skin at the same moment he bit gently into my neck, and with the warm, sweet taste of his blood my body was filled with our shared feelings. The bond between us was like fire—it burned and consumed, almost painful in its intensity. Almost unbearable in its pleasure. We clung to each other, mouths pressed against skin, body against body. All I could feel was Stark. All I could hear was the pounding of our hearts beating in time together. I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I couldn’t tell which pleasure was mine, and which was his.

→“Oh, goddess, yes! Please, Zoey. Please.”

→“Yes,” I said, surprised by the breathless, unfamiliar sound of my voice. I shifted my body so that Stark’s lips pressed more firmly against my neck, while I kissed the strong, smooth slope where his shoulder met his biceps. With my own wordless question, I let my teeth graze his skin.

→When Stark unwrapped the MacUallis plaid from around his body and lay naked beside me, he bent and I felt his tongue first against the pulse at my neck, and then a brief, questioning touch of his teeth.