Death.

His lips met hers, and she thought of Death. It had come for her before, only to leave her weary and hopeless, though never lifeless. But at Finvarra's mouth, Leanna was certain—she would die. Either her heart would fail because of Finvarra's kiss or Machina would tear it from her chest for the same reason. But forsaking consequence and guided by her soul, Leanna parted her lips and accepted his kiss, welcoming sweet death, whatever its form.

His lips molded to hers, gently easing her from inexperience. Slowly, patiently, he showed her how to receive his affection and give it in return. Their rhythm a pulse, he pulled her closer as if wanting to absorb her into his being.

Releasing the blanket to the floor, Leanna slid her arms around his neck shyly, wanting the same... more.

They tumbled back blindly, hands exploring, lips tasting until a bookcase supported the labors of their love. Their bodies shifted and aligned, twined, until no space remained between them, his crystal pressed against her skin and hers against his.

At once, the stones grew blindingly cold, and Leanna felt Finvarra so present, she was certain she once again invaded his soul.

Falling.

Being within him felt like falling. Like a million rising suns and setting moons, Leanna felt herself fall through darkness and light, through what she knew was Finvarra's soul. In this never-ending universe of his spirit, each star was a memory of his life, free for her to explore. There were so many....

She should have focused on these things and learned the truths of his life. Yet, being within him, tasting him, running her hands along him, Leanna saw but one truth. Finvarra opened up to her completely and trusted her wholly with all the secrets of his soul—the ultimate vulnerability. The ultimate trust. Tears spilled from her eyes.

Heart to heart, Leanna surrendered wholly to their kiss. She shed all fear and doubt, and opened her soul to him as well. The crystal's burn intensified, but weaving her hands in his silken hair, she kissed him with every truth she had. That she'd been dying before the circus. But here, beside his troupe—beside him, she lived. ­That she would take his heart, but never his life.

I love you, she confessed into their bound souls. Surely this was love. It was heaven. It was hell. It was everything she never dreamed of, and could not fathom how she lived without. If she never felt this again, she would die. Yes, she loved him. A part of her always had. And heaven help her, in knowing every fault and transgression, she always would.

Sharp, concentrated pain twisted at Leanna's chest. Clutching tightly to Finvarra's shoulders, she stiffened, eyes shut tight against the stabbing pain. The crystals burned as if wishing to tear her open and burn away her heart.

Finvarra's fingers dug into her back just as violently. He moaned painfully into their kiss that instantly broke. His arms around her loosened and he surfaced with a gasp.

Leanna's eyes snapped open. She froze, instantly caught by the sight of him. Struggling for air, Finvarra stumbled back, eyes closed, brows gathered in agony. Savagely, he clawed at his shirt as if on fire. Fisting the fabric in his hands, he ripped it open. Leanna gasped! At the skin above his heart, a light shone brightly, pulsing below the pale surface with each beat.

"Finvarra!" she cried. Fear moved her forward and she reached out to him.

At once his eyes opened, panic in his stare. Seeing her nearing him, he scrambled away as if her touch would kill him. He crashed back against the reading table, one hand clasped over his chest; the other clutched the table for borrowed strength. Blond strands tumbled over his shoulder, shielding his face, but his frame heaved with ragged breaths, unmistakable of great pain.

"What did you say?" He rasped, his voice so low, she could barely hear it. "What on earth did you say?" He groaned again, and had his teeth not been clenched, Leanna knew he would have roared. What had she done!

Helpless and afraid, she retracted her hand to her own chest. She hissed. Looking down, the crystal had blistered the skin above her heart, a large red mark coming out from under her nightgown. Wide eyed, she lifted her lashes, her own heartbeats hammering against her ribs. She shook her head no, tears welling in her eyes. It couldn't be that... No, it couldn't be that she was taking his heart...

Finvarra's viselike grip tightened on the desk's edge, his knuckles white. His head fell back, jaw hard and skin paler. Trembling, he hauled in deep breaths through his nose as if willing the pain to subside. By and by, the light between his fingers faded, and his labored breathing returned to normal. One last shuddering exhale and he opened his eyes.

She should have kept quiet and given him time to recover, but—"Wh-what just happened?" Leanna asked, aware of how horribly her voice wobbled. "Your heart was glowing, and the crystals—they burned us and w-we were—were within each other," she stammered, stumbling on the thoughts that came faster than she could speak them. She swallowed deeply, still feeling the sensation of those hands holding her tight against him, his lips claiming hers, the openness of his soul.

As desperate for that again, as she was for answers, she fisted her nightgown, taking a step toward him. "Tell me something. What just happened with our hearts—"

"A mistake!" Finvarra barked, bringing his fist down on the table in uncharacteristic rage. The butterfly pendulum on the desk crashed onto the wooden floors with a beautiful spark, muting Leanna's gasp. She never imagined him capable of losing his cool. But wild and savage he gripped the table and slid his gaze to her, fierce with intensity. "It was a mistake," he said, holding her stare. "And it can't ever happen again."

Leanna felt as though having slammed into a stone wall. Her breath caught in the sudden knot at her throat, she took a step away from him, and another, until offered sanctuary by the bookshelf. Standing next to the books that had coaxed her broken heart for so many years, her heart broke a little more.

"A mistake, of course," she breathed, cheeks flushed and heart hurting. Once again, he'd travelled her soul, and she his... and it was a mistake. A hollow ache invaded her chest. So many conflicting emotions warred within her, pain and pleasure, love and shame. She struggled against them, but feeling vulnerable and exposed, the disappointment was crushing.

As if realizing his choice of words, Finvarra deflated. "Leanna," he lamented, the fire in his eyes replaced by shame and agony. He straightened and in one sweep was before her, cradling her arms. She stiffened, but feeling those hands upon her again, her will withered and she walked into his waiting arms.

"Forgive me," he whispered against her temple in a tortured prayer. He inhaled deeply as if she were the last breath of his life. "I am indebted to you in ways you cannot imagine, and will do all in my power to keep you safe. But there are things that cannot be said. Things I simply cannot give you." He broke their hold, only to cradle her face. Eyes black with chained desire, he slid a desperate gaze along her features. "Not because I don't want to, but because if I give you what you seek, what you deserve—" He ran his hands along her hair, his restraint palpable. "Damn it all, if I give you what has long belonged to you, I wouldn't ever forgive myself."

His voice was stern, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. If you ask for my heart, I will give it to you, they told her. Please don't ask for it. He looked down at her lips, a war of violence tangled with need in his stare. The air hummed with magic and passion waiting to explode. He brought her against his chest roughly, an embrace of apology, of if not able to kiss her, to at least hold her.

Leanna closed her eyes against him, clutching at his back with just as much vigor. What she felt there, broken heart to broken heart was not a king, but a man that would never find forgiveness in white snow, only in Black Death. A death she would bring him. God, help me...

The bell outside tolled once, echoing around them. Holding each other tighter, they ignored it, a silent agreement not to let reality in yet... not just yet.

Mere seconds, and reality rung again.

Finvarra let out a slow breath, but did not release her. Not at first. His hands held her firmly as he pressed devotional kisses at the bare skin of her shoulder, at her neck, her cheek, her temple—each one more painful than the last for Leanna. With one final kiss on her forehead, but never her lips, Finvarra slid his hands down her arms until entwining his cool fingers with hers.

Their eyes met with mirroring looks of devastating sadness, of what could have been were they different people, in a different place with different hearts. If only it were so simple.

But it wasn't, and lowering his eyes, Finvarra stepped back. Their fingers were last to separate. It took sheer will for her to let him go.

"Come in," he said hoarsely. Raking a hand through his hair, he walked to the middle of the room. In the midst of the open space, he looked lost, trapped.

The hush of the curtains told Leanna someone walked in, but now facing the fire, she didn't care to know who. She neared the flames hoping it would vaporize the tear washing away the trace of his kiss.

"Ringmaster," Tomas spoke quietly. "Kioyo has returned. He awaits you in your tent."

Leanna whirled, heart pounding. "Is he alright? Is he hurt? Did he... did he find Inara..." She trailed off, her joints weakening. Blinking, the room swayed before her eyes. "Never mind, I'll go and see him myself," she said quickly, hoping Finvarra didn't notice how her words slurred, or the sweat dewed on her skin.

"No," Finvarra said, halting her steps with a knowing gaze. "You need to rest." He turned to Tomas. "Daylight approaches and Minerva cannot watch over Lean—Miss Weston. Have Yelena come. I will be there in a minute."

"Yes, Ringmaster." Tomas turned.

Leanna narrowed her eyes, and opened her mouth to protest. She never had the chance.

Tomas stopped at the curtain and turned to her. "Sadly, Inara has yet to be found. Kioyo, however, is tired, but unharmed." He gave her a small smile.

Leanna swallowed her argument and sighed. "Thank you, Tomas." She met his eyes with a small smile of genuine gratitude. She felt safe with him. More, she knew he would do anything to keep Finvarra safe. She was glad he was there.

A flush washed through his dark cheeks. With a shy nod, he walked out. And with him, all the previous warmth vanished.

Finvarra strode to the winged chair, determined. He gathered his coat and put it on. Swiftly, he tied his cravat, and adjusted his waistcoat to hide the tear in his shirt. His movements too quick for Leanna's weary mind, she pinned her gaze on the floor.

"Yelena is to come and sit with you. You must rest," he spoke, regaining his previous anger and icy composure. Leanna mused that their previous affections had only magnified Kioyo's error. She didn't want to think of the consequences. No. She wanted to be there to hear them, to fight them.

"I've been stuck in bed resting for most of my life. I am coming with you." Wiping the sweat from her brow, she spun to get her cloak.

The world swayed in and out of blackness. One moment she was reaching for her cloak, the next she was cradled in Finvarra's arms, her head tucked in the crook of his neck. He held her against him, the soft thuds of his heart a gentle lullaby that soothed the dizzying burn of the poison rushing through her veins.

The walk to the bed felt eternal to Leanna's hazy mind, but entirely too short once he set her down on the bed. She protested this with a sleepy groan.

"Sleep," he said gently, his voice soothing and magical. It coalesced with the blackness that fringed her sights, beckoning her to sleep.

In her weariness, Leanna sought out his hand. Cold fingers tangled with hers, she held them tightly. Swallowing to steady her garbled words, she said, "Please don't reprimand Kioyo for this. Not because you'll deny me nothing, but because you understand him."

The muscles of Finvarra's jaw clenched.

"Please," Leanna pressed, and in a moment of fleeting clear-headedness, bore her gaze into his. "He only wanted to help."

A moment and Finvarra's cool fingers tightened around hers reassuringly. She attempted to return the gesture, but could hardly feel her fingers anymore.

She blinked, and the image of Finvarra grew hazy. "Thank you..." she murmured.

Bending over her, Finvarra brushed a light kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering. Leanna closed her eyes at the feel of his warm breath fanning her face, and surrendered to sleep at the sound of his voice whispering,

"Sweet dreams, my love."

She had no nightmares that night.

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I really hope you enjoyed this! Thank you so much for reading. All votes and comments are appreciated!