For a moment, they stared at each other without speaking, both of them smiling and giddy. Then at the same moment he reached for her, she moved into his arms and kissed him on the mouth. She kissed him for a long time, hungry for it, for him, wanting the closeness, the feel of him. She didn’t care what it meant or how it had happened or even what it would lead to. She just wanted to do this—something she had secretly considered for longer than she could remember—without having to give it thought or measure its consequences.

She liked it that she was the one who broke the kiss. She stepped back from him, still holding his arms, and she saw at once the confusion in his eyes. “I didn’t mean…it was just…”

“I wanted to kiss you,” she said, cutting him short. “I did it because I wanted to, and I’m glad I did.”

He nodded quickly. “Me, too. I wanted to kiss you, too.”

She took his hand and began walking in the direction that the Elfstones had showed them. “I might want to kiss you some more,” she told him after a moment, giving him a wicked smile. “Maybe a lot.”

He took a long time to respond. “I might want that, too,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-one

THEY HAD WALKED A LONG WAY INTO THE SKELETAL bones of the forest, the fecund smells of decay and ancient earth assailing their senses—already spinning from the kiss—before Pan made himself let go of Phryne’s hand. He did so reluctantly, but with a sense of relief, as well. He couldn’t seem to think straight when she was holding on to him like that. His memory of the kiss kept crowding out everything else, and in country like this he couldn’t afford the distraction.

Breaking contact seemed to help. She moved away from him a few steps once he let her go, and when he glanced over she gave him a neutral look. He couldn’t help wondering why she had done it. Not that he wasn’t happy she had; he most assuredly was. He didn’t think he would ever have a kiss like that again. Not so deeply passionate and not under such desperate, almost frantic conditions. But he didn’t understand the reason for it. She could have chosen another way to express her euphoria. She could have just held him, and he wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

Of course, he had embraced the kiss—had wanted to share it—every bit as much as she had wanted to give it to him. He hadn’t done anything to stop it. In retrospect, he knew that even if he had the chance to go back and change things, he wouldn’t.