Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

by Lauren Roberts

I want to stare into his face, the one without the mask that I have glimpsed so many times before.

He looks down at me, and I look up at him. I’m lost in the moment, lost in his eyes. There is no smirk to be seen, no smile to be shared, no sarcastic line to be said. Just the two of us, hearts beating wildly, breath leaving shakily.

“Stay.” I still. Time stalls. Breathing ceases. It’s astounding how severely a single word can affect someone. “Please.”

Even with my back still to him, I can feel his eyes on me, feel the ghost of his hands on me, feel what he is doing to me. What if I don’t say a thing? Words can only damn if they are spoken. So that’s just what I’ll do. I won’t speak, I won’t think—I’ll feel. I’ll drown out the insistent thoughts and simply feel. I turn, slowly, and meet his gaze. His breath catches, his gaze softens. He didn’t think I would stay.

He expects everyone to leave him. And with that heartbreaking thought in mind, I don’t hesitate as I lift the covers of his bed. He tracks the movement, watches my hands as they fold back the blankets, my body as I fold beneath them.

I sink into his mattress, his soft pillows, the scent that covers them. Him. I’m surrounded by him. I curl onto my side, heart racing as I feel the bed shift beside me. And then I’m actually surrounded by him. His chest brushes against my back in question, silently asking if I want him closer or farther. I swallow before leaning back, ever so slightly, in answer.

I’m pressed to his strong body, tucked between the covers and him. I feel secure and safe and more soothed in his arms than I have in years. I feel.

Something about this, about us, seems different. Intentional. We both wanted this. We weren’t forced together because of the cold or because of an injury. I could have walked away, but I chose this. No, we chose this. We chose each other. And that terrifies me.

He tilts his head to the side, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath hitches when his fingers trail down the side of my neck, and he smiles, soft and sweet and satisfied. So very satisfied in this moment. A smile he’s designed just for me. “Does it shock you? That I would thank you?” he asks, voice low and quiet. I study the planes of his face, the perfection that is him. “It shouldn’t. Not anymore.”

I’ve gotten to know him, gotten to see the man behind the many masks who is more than what his father has molded him into.

“As tempting as it is to watch you stare at me all night,” his voice is a caress, lulling me to sleep with a single sentence, “sleep, Pae.” I manage to give him a groggy grin before asking, “Are you going to sleep?” “Oh, darling, I’m already dreaming.”

I drift off to the feel of Kai braiding my hair, vaguely wondering if I should be afraid of how safe I feel with him. If I should be worried that I feel content and comforted in his arms. I feel happy. I feel words murmured into my ear, and the whisper of fingers stroking my hair. And then all I feel is blissful sleep.

I can’t tear my eyes from her. I can’t stray my thoughts from her. I can’t pry my body from her.

I count the faint freckles dusting her nose. Once. Twice. Twenty-eight.

I was up most of the night listening to her breathe—breathing her in. Just like I’ve been doing for far longer than I care to admit. She’s captivating, even while crumpled up and claimed by sleep.

I hurt her. Though a little scratch means nothing to the girl who’s used to bleeding, it means everything to me. Killing is what I do. Killing and hurting are what I was trained to do, created to do, controlled to do. But not with her.

She held my face in her hands while I held her life in my own. She looked at me like I was worthy of being seen, like she wanted to see me. And when she said my name, the sound of it rolling off her tongue finally had my head clearing, heart racing, thoughts reeling.

And then I asked her something I have never asked of anyone before. Stay.

“You know me so well,” I sigh, smiling at her. “Of course the food is for you. I wouldn’t touch that porridge.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Picky prince.” “Clever Pae.”

“You look flushed, Gray.” My fingers catch a strand of long hair falling over her shoulder. “Probably thanks to the blanket.” I can feel the smirk spreading across my face as I say, “Unless I’m the reason for your blush.”

I watch the emotions flit across her face. First, there is something akin to what I’m sure is reflected in my own gaze—wanting. Then she blinks, and I glimpse shock, realization, and denial before she settles with annoyance.

“And are you unable to help being a shameless flirt as well?” “Clearly not when I’m with you.” “Oh? And what else are you when you’re around me, hmm?” She has me swallowing, has me nervous. “I’m a fool.” The smile she gives me is equally amused and alluring. “Only when you’re around me?” “Only for you.”

I don’t think I’ve ever spoken so softly, so soothingly to someone before. And what scares me even more is that I don’t think I ever will for anyone but her.

“Liar.” “Was it my left foot that gave me away, or did you come to that conclusion on your own?”

My gaze has shifted back to her eyes, blue and bewilderingly beautiful. Then my eyes drop to her lips, soft and pulled into a frown she seems to be fighting to keep on her face. I step even closer. She leans in.

“I can’t take my eyes off you long enough to give a damn about what your foot is doing. So yes, I came ...

Her gaze is burning, boring into mine, begging me to come closer. So I do. I can’t stay away from her. I do...

Simply touching her sends a shock through me, sets my heart racing. And I know she feels it too. Her eyes are flicking between m...

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stop myself from wanting ...

I’m just about to make my exit from the conversation using a mediocre excuse when someone catches my eye. Someone who has me stunned and staring. Someone who is standing in a sea of black. Draped in midnight fabric, the faint sparkles dusting her dress wink like starlight. Like a shadow, the fabric clings to her body. Like a second skin, it outlines her curves as she steps down the stairs.

Not that I’ve ever had a problem finding her before. The sight of her in jet black is enough to make me colorblind, make me see nothing and no one but her.

I blame her for it. Blame her for cracking my carefully crafted mask, shattering it to pieces when she is around. I’ve never felt so much, never feared so much. But if I must endure the consequences that feeling something for her brings, then so does she. It’s like a tangible tether between us, this consuming connection. I will her to meet my eyes, and when they do— Sparks. Electricity. Everything beautiful, everything bold, everything breathtaking—that is what I feel in her gaze.

That, and terrified. Terrified of what she is doing to me. She is a vision, a nightmare, a dream. A grim reaper clad in black, come to steal my soul and my heart. I’ve never seen something so beautiful, so bold, so blatantly wrong for me. She is a devil. She is a deity. She is a man’s downfall in human form. She is my downfall.

Why did I ever think I could have her, ever think she would have me? Because beasts don’t get the beauty.

Despite him feeling so right, I feel so very wrong and so very confused.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, and I have to make a conscious effort not to stare at his lips. But just like this morning, I find myself wanting to lean into him. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d stayed in his room any longer, and yet, all day I’ve been kicking myself for not finding out.

“Please. I have no problem being close to you.” Lies. Lies. Liar.

I’m hot and cold, yes and no, right and wrong. I’m the embodiment of opposites, a jumble of confusion and contradictions.

I want this. I don’t want this. He dips his head so his chin rests on my shoulder. Oh, I definitely want this. Oh, but I definitely shouldn’t.

His mask slips, splinters, shatters, leaving only a boy beholding a girl like she is worthy of his wanting. And what terrifies me even more is that I think I might be looking at him the same way, looking at him with that same longing.

Try as I might to fight it, I can’t help but long for this boy who has saved my life more times than I care to admit. This boy who is equally calculating and charming, equally cool and caring. The one who’s tended to my wounds, learned about my past, been my distraction when I needed it most. The one who understands me.

“I don’t know that I ever lived before laying eyes on the likes of you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the little ladies who catch your eye,” I say, half laughing, half hysterical. “Oh, but I only have eyes for one little lady, and I can’t seem to take them off of her.”

His lips are tugged into a smile as he holds up the flower to me, drooping and dripping with water. Its small petals are a stunning shade of vibrant blue that hints at purple. “A forget-me-not, since you always seem to be forgetting who I am,”

“I don’t give a damn if you forget who I am in title, so long as you remember who I am to you.”

“Kai…” The smile that lights up his face stops me short, steals my breath. It’s one of those rare, real smiles of his that I confessed I wanted to see more of. One that belongs to me. Dimples. Both of them on display. Both distracting. Both devastating.

He’s silent, nothing but a smile and a sudden intensity in his eyes, daring me to say his full name. Wanting me to say his name. And apparently, I want to say it too because when I open my mouth, one word falls out. “Malakai.” His eyes flutter shut; his head falls back, allowing the rain full access to his face. The smile on his lips and the column of his neck make me swallow.

“Well, what would you like me to call you? Kai? Malakai?” My voice sounds so breathy, and I almost wish I could blame it on a panic attack. His answer is simple, straightforward, as he dips his head down to look at me. “Call me anything you like. I’ll never pass up the chance to hear your voice, darling.”

“As adorable as you looked blinking up at me in the rain, I want you to see me clearly when I tell you this.” There goes that stupid flutter in my chest. “I meant what I said. I can’t take my eyes off you. I can’t take my mind off you.”

“Tell me,” he murmurs, “what do you want me to call you?” My eyes slowly meet his, confused by his question. “What do you want to call me?” “I want to call you mine.”