Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

by Lauren Roberts

“Will you forever be the prize I am aimlessly trying to win?”

“Is that all I am to you? A trophy?” A small smile twitches his lips as he shakes his head at me. “Oh, darling, a trophy implies that I won it, earned it, deserve it.” He leans in farther, a certain reverence reflecting in his gaze. “But if I get to have you, it will be because you let me.”

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs. I nearly choke on my laugh. “Stop what?” “That. Laughing.”

It’s so familiar—the feel of each other, the footwork, the flirting. Familiar.

“You said you were only a little drunk, remember?” “Fine. Then you can cut me a little slack.” He’s looking me over, shaking his head at what he sees. “Besides, your dress is very distracting. I like it.” I huff out a laugh. “That is a terrible excuse.” “That’s because I was giving you a compliment, not an excuse.”

Of course he is going to use this as an excuse for me to finally flatter him—except that I won’t. “Fine,” I say curtly. “Your hair looks very… soft.” “Soft?” Kai echoes with a cough that might have been a laugh. “Oh, come now, you can do better than that.” He leans in closer, his voice taunting as he adds, “And if you want to run your fingers through my hair, I wouldn’t be opposed to—”

“I like when you truly smile. When you’re not wearing the mask of the future Enforcer or the prince, and you simply allow me to see you. It’s a smile I wish you would share with me more often.”

“Even with my stupid dimples, you still like my smile?” Kai’s words are soft, slightly breathless, and my answer is equally so. “Even with your stupid dimples, Azer.”

“Your name is Malakai?” “Yes, well, I’ve also been called devilishly handsome, devastatingly powerful, and more recently, a cocky bastard.”

“Whoever called you that must know you quite well.” “Yes, more than I care to admit,”

“I have to be.” There’s a long pause. The smile I give him is sad. “That’s not what I asked.” “Smart-ass,” he mutters under his breath, managing to truly make me smile. “The truth then?” “The truth always.” “Then no. I’m not ready,” he sighs, ducking his head close to mine. “But we’ll be fine. We always are.”

Both of our lives have been a series of trials that we’ve had to survive. Only now, we are going through one together, one we will fight our way out of just as we’ve done in the past.

I hate that he makes me feel like I’m always trying to catch my breath. And what I hate even more is that he knows it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I drill those words into my head, forcing them through my thick skull. I refuse to get caught up in him.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. “Pae…” Oh, why can’t I hate it? “What’s wrong?” His voice is stern, cutting through my haze of hysteria.

Suddenly, I’m that little, helpless girl again. The one with the dead dad and murdered dreams. The one being beaten against a pole for stealing to survive, running to rid herself of haunting memories. The one who would curl up in a ball, crippled by grief and consumed by panic. The one who couldn’t be in large crowds or small spaces without gasping for air or grappling to escape.

Weak from worry, powerless from panic. No, just powerless.

“I—I can’t breathe.” The words are a gasp, and I’m embarrassed that I have to admit to him, to myself, a fear that hasn’t haunted me in years. “Claustrophobic.” I barely manage to get the breathless word out, but he doesn’t wait for me to struggle through an explanation before I’m pressed to his side, letting him lead me to the edge of trees.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me,” he says softly, more softly than I’ve ever heard him speak. And for once, I listen to him. I’m blinking rapidly, studying his shadowed face in the darkness, trying to calm myself.

“What were you thinking—” “I was thinking,” Kai shoves his hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of nonchalance, “that you couldn’t breathe. And as much as I like that dress on you, I figured you would look just as good in it with the laces undone.” He dips his head and smiles to himself, apparently humored by this. “So you could breathe, of course.”

Distraction. The word echoes in my head, and I begin to wonder if that is what Kai is doing. Again. Using the banter as a buffer. Turning my attention from my panic and pinning it on him. Using my anger and annoyance to distract, divert. But it’s not his calculating that shocks me anymore—it’s his caring. It’s that he understands exactly what I need.

“You should retire for the night. Get some rest.” “Well then I’m going to have to make it back to my room without this dress falling off of me.” His lips twitch, and I know him well enough to know that he’s likely restraining from saying something wildly inappropriate in response.

“I could get used to you being a gentleman, Azer.” He’s quiet for so long that I think he might not respond. But when he does, I hear the smile in his voice. “And I could get used to being one for you, Gray.”

What do I think of her? When do I not think of her?

But upon arriving at Plummet, the first thing I noticed was the pen scribbled on my hand. My slanted, hasty handwriting is scrolled across my palm, relaying a very important message: She said I could touch her when I’m sober.

“We are glad you learned to work as one, but oh, this Trial is not done. The rules of the game have changed a bit, so the first to capture the flag will win it.” He clears his throat before continuing, “There can only be one winner among you. The only question is who?”

We all stare at each other, eyes shifting between our competition and the ragged flag that has suddenly become so vital to our victory. And then we turn on one another. Chaos.

And then I’m suddenly standing beneath it, looking up at my prize. Looking up at my victory. And no one stops me as I rip off the flag.

She handed Ace over to me despite wanting to dole out his death herself. She let me have my revenge without even knowing that it was partially for her. Because before I wanted to kill Ace for nearly killing Jax, I wanted to kill Ace for nearly killing Paedyn.

I may have cheated Death of its intended victim, but I gave it a life, nonetheless. I borrowed Blair’s power and nudged fate in another direction. And it found Braxton. But I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, and again, and again to save that silver-haired girl.

I scoff and shake my head at the ceiling, wondering if Kitt will ever stop trying to prove himself to the king. “You know, you might think differently if he had cut you open as a boy and watched you try to stitch the wound.” I take a step toward him. “Or maybe after being forced to face your worst fears over and over and over again, you would realize that not everything he does is for the best.”

“He made me a murderer, molded me into a monster. But that was for the best right?” I jab a finger into his chest as I say, “That was for your benefit, so you can use me when you’re king. Just like he has.”

“So, you just want someone to keep you company?” “Not someone. You.”

“I see why you hate this game.” “No, I hate this game because it’s boring. You hate this game because you’re bad at it.”

“Paedyn.” I clamp my mouth shut at the sound of my name. “I am content to listen to you talk for hours, but if you must speak about fruit, then at least pick one we both enjoy.”

“I should go.” The unsure words hang between us, barely more than a whisper that the wind nearly steals away. “That doesn’t sound like what you want to do at all,” he murmurs.

“You’re Paedyn Gray. Silver Savior, silver-tongued, and quick to shove her silver dagger into people.”

Screams. Terrible, tortured screams bounce around my skull, echo in my mind. Her. It’s her. I’m running through the halls of the castle, sweating, searching, screaming for her. The only response is a cry for help, a beg for mercy.

Something silver glints in the moonlight streaming through her open window. There. Her hair. It must be that beautiful, silver hair of hers. But what my eyes land on is not beautiful. No, it is broken. She is covered in blood, sitting in a pool of it. Tears are streaming down her face, now contorted in agony. Pain beyond belief. Suffering beyond saving. I catch sight of that silver glint again, but it’s not her hair shimmering like I once thought. Dagger. It’s her dagger.

I never wanted her blood on my hands. Never her blood. Her head turns, ever so slowly, her tear-streaked face now angled toward mine. “Make it stop.” She’s whimpering. Paedyn doesn’t whimper. “It hurts so much. Just please make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!”

I’m holding the knife still while she desperately tries to sink it into her beautiful heart. “My heart hurts.” More sobs. More cries to let her die. This is wrong. This is so very wrong. Paedyn is too strong, too stubborn, too special. She can’t die. I won’t allow it.

I can’t take it. I can’t take it. I can’t take it anymore. I feel tears stinging my eyes, streaming down my face. Now I’m begging. I’m begging her to stay. To live. For me.

Footsteps echo off the walls, and I look up to see dozens of bodies surrounding me. All bloody and begging. All victims of mine. They stare at me, hatred burning in their gazes as they look upon the man who killed them.

I’m screaming. I’m lifting her into my arms; I’m brushing her bloody hair back; I’m saying something, but I don’t know what. My mind is numb. My heart is numb. Everything is numb. She’s smiling in death, as though happy to be rid of life. Happy to be rid of me. I am grief. I am sorrow. I am anguish alike. I think I might also be dead. Just decaying on the inside.

A cry echoes, and I still at the sound. It’s him. I don’t know how I know since I’ve never heard the future Enforcer cry out before, but something tugs me in the direction of his room. My feet are moving of their own accord, guiding me closer to him with every step.

I make my way to him, blinking as my eyes finally adjust to the lack of light, only to roam over his exposed chest, heaving and slicked with sweat.

His lips are moving with murmured words I can’t understand, and now I’m truly worried. I’m worried about him. I let the thought sink in for a moment before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and nearly gasping at the heat of his skin. He’s burning up. “Kai,” I say softly, not wanting to startle him. Nothing. “Kai.” I speak his name louder this time, shaking his shoulder to try to shake him from his nightmare. He cries out again, and I nearly do the same. Now I’m panting, panicking, pleading with him to wake up so we can go back to bantering instead of begging him to open his eyes.

“Kai!” I’m annoyed that I care so much. Annoyed that I care whether he is hurting or not. Annoyed that I can’t bear to see him like this— And then those gray eyes snap open. Strong hands are suddenly gripping my waist and throwing me off him. My back is pressed against the mattress as he pins me down, hands crushing my arms, his body crushing mine. And then something cold is pressed against my throat. I’d know the feel of a dagger anywhere, so I don’t bother looking down at the one he is now pushing against my neck. I’m breathing heavily, keeping my eyes locked on his wild ones and my voice soft. “Kai, it’s me.”

“Kai. It was just a nightmare.” I keep my voice calm while ignoring my thundering heart that says I’m anything but. “Kai, it’s me. Paedyn.” He blinks. And then he blinks again, over and over as if clearing his head. As if seeing me for the first time. Cool air coats my neck as he pulls the dagger away, his eyes never straying from mine. “It’s me. Pae.”

Those ghostly, gray eyes flutter shut at the feel of my hand on his cheek. I cup his face, timidly, tenderly, as I silently marvel at the feel of him against my palm. His jaw is set, and a muscle feathers in it as I slide my thumb across his cheek.

“Don’t hide from me,” I breathe, suddenly unable to catch my breath with the way he is looking at me. “Not anymore.”