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The thunderstorm outside continued with a passion, unrelenting as the rain showered down, pitter-pattering against the mansion’s window panes. The noise was only bare static to the sound in Knife’s chest, though, so frustratingly alive when the rest of him… well, wasn’t.
The static in the dry air hung, and crackled between the floors and his feet with every step he took. In every way right about now, he felt so alive—his weirdly hot cheeks, transparent tan dusted red, his jittery breaths, as if he could barely contain his affection in any part of his own existence. Honestly, how had he ever managed to hide how he felt behind a wall for all these years? Around Suitcase, Knife couldn’t help the dopey grin that stretched across his face—it was instinct, nothing more.
Suitcase turned to face him, her eyes meeting his for a moment. He took it in—their deep brown, with hints of golden amber, a little surprise he wouldn’t tell anyone else about. They gleamed with a mischievous glint that was all too satisfying, and it only drew him closer with a slight, rasped chuckle.
“I know it’s probably selfish, but..” he drew closer, his gaze sheepishly flicking to the floor before it returned to meet Suitcase’s. “I.. kinda hope I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.”
“What side of me?” She coaxed, tilting her head with that infuriating hint of smugness that Knife just couldn’t kiss out of her. He loved it. “You might not know me as much as you think you do, Knife,” she murmured, not a hint of poison laced in her voice.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And you think you know me?”
“Yep. Almost completely.”
Her words were graceful, but she was still clumsy, her back hitting the side of a dusty old desk that was lying around in the room they’d locked themselves in. She sucked in an anticipated breath as her hands scrambled to grab at the sides of it, and the breath died on her lips as he caught himself staring at them.
Maybe this time, it would work.
“Maybe you’re right, ‘Case,” He drawled, his voice low and husked as he leaned over her. “At least, you might believe you are,”
He brought his hand up and felt the static electricity connect the two as his thumb grazed her lip, while his index lovingly cupped her chin to look up at him. He was able to touch her. Good.
“But I’m full of surprises, too,” he grinned—
but just as he was about to lovingly, slowly pull her in, she buried her fingers in his thick, grey wolf cut and wrenched the air out of him as their lips met. Holy shit. Voltage ran through every bit of the kiss, a seal between the living and the dead, but while it stung it felt more perfect than Knife had ever felt before. The furious sound of thunder faded away until he and Suitcase were the only ones left, and if he had her, he’d savor this.
Moments passed. Eventually, after a little bit, Knife winced and pulled away like someone caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Suitcase didn’t notice, though. She panted, her giddy grin wide as she let out an enthusiastic giggle. “It worked! Knife, it worked!”
He nodded and crossed his arms, trying to stifle the insane heat that was quickly traveling up to his face. He fumbled with an earring, looking away bashfully. “It hurt,” he pointed out with a curious raise of his eyebrows.
“So what?” She challenged. “Didn’t think you’d be scared of a little pain, tough guy.”
He gasped. “I-I’m not! Just didn’t want to hurt you, is all.”
“Knife, we’ve beat each other up before.”
“Yeah, but that time was fake. I was going easy on you, you know.”
“You were going easy on me?” Suitcase glanced up at him through her eyelashes with an intrigued expression—one that only meant trouble. He sucked in a quick breath in response, flustered beyond words. “That was your first mistake,” she pointed out with a small shrug.
He chuckled, hanging his head with a sheepish rub of his neck. “I know,” he admitted, before bringing her in closer and kissing her, this time like he meant it.