Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

by Lauren Roberts

I always assumed the future king would be cold, calculating—more like his brother at the very least. But Kitt seems to be quite the opposite, which confuses me, considering who his father is and what his future holds.

I haven’t even noticed the future king beside me until he reaches up to pull something from my hair. I don’t even have time to flinch before he’s holding a flower in front of my face—the one I had forgotten was tangled in the silver strands.

“Too stubborn to ask for my help, Gray?” “No,” I say coolly. “Too strong to need it.” His next words are murmured close to my ear. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“I am more than willing to rip your dresses for you, Gray. To help, of course.” Kitt snorts while Kai smirks. “You only need to ask.” “Why ask when you’re so eager to offer?”

I step even closer to her back and place my hands on her hips, twisting her body as she throws another punch. She jumps and stumbles into me, her head tipping back against my bare chest. “Stop swinging with your arms and swing with your whole body,” I say, bending my head so I’m close to her ear. She sucks in a breath when my hand sweeps over her abdomen, the whisper of my fingers dancing along her thin tank. “Engage your core, Gray.”

Especially because I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours, darling.” She all but rolls her eyes at me. “That’s funny because I won’t hesitate to mess up your pretty face.” I smirk. “I knew you thought I was pretty.”

One minute we’re flirting and the next we’re fighting—possibly even both at the same time. I can’t seem to figure this vicious girl out.

I take her in, bloody and straddling me. “If it weren’t for my current situation,” I glance at her fist still posed to strike, “this could be a lot more fun,” I say quietly, looking her up and down before staring into those blue eyes as they widen.

My lips quirk into a smile as I lift my head toward hers. “Oh, darling, as long as you still think I’m pretty, I don’t give a damn what I look like.”

“Well, it’s good to know that the future king won’t have my head for screwing up his kingdom’s motto.” I bite my tongue, but it’s too late to stop the words that have already tumbled from my mouth. He laughs. The sound is rich, flooding me with relief. He rubs a hand behind his neck, still chuckling as he says, “Actually, that was my favorite part.”

ugh I love him f**k

“Then you must admire me often because I tend to speak my mind far more than I should.” I do admire you often. His eyes seem to speak those five words as they search mine, voicing something he never intended to. And it’s the first time that I can meet his gaze and not see the king gazing back at me.

I was lonely in a way that I imagine the stars to be, observed by everyone yet too far to truly be seen.

ok this is fire Lauren

“What you need and what you want are two very different things.” The scent of pine washes over me when he ducks his head close to mine, forcing me to meet his gaze.

His gray eyes are like chips of ice, shards of glass. Like both, his gaze is pointed and piercing. Cold yet captivating. Beautiful in the way only deadly things can be.

“Enough.” Kitt’s voice cuts through the tension, turning all eyes on him. But he only has eyes for one person, one girl wearing the glittering dress beside him as he says, “Dance with me, will you? Please?”

stop 😭😭😭😭

He feels too familiar. We fit together perfectly, pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. I shouldn’t let myself relax into his touch. Shouldn’t let the tension ease from my body when he holds me. But I can do nothing to stop it. Utterly and completely powerless.

“By all means, carry on. I’ll never deny myself the chance of watching you watch me.” “And why is that?” I ask with a nonchalance I don’t feel. His smile is wicked. “Because it is far more fun to admire you when the action is mutual.”

“Don’t stop,” he says quickly, quietly. My gaze slides back toward him to rest on the top button of his shirt. “Your questions, your thoughts, your contradictions—I want to hear them all.”

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I stumble down the steps, taking them two at a time. I nearly twist my ankle in the deadly contraption that are my heels before ungracefully flinging them off my feet, letting them tumble down the stairs before I nearly do the same. I’m suddenly in front of him, having cleared the ballroom in a matter of seconds. I drop to my knees, looking up into his bloody, dirt-streaked face. His gray eyes only look startled for a moment before they begin roaming over me, searching my body for injuries as I do the same to him. Words spew from my mouth. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

If Paedyn is so determined to hate me, I could make it very, very easy for her. It wouldn’t take much. But I’m selfish, weak, and unwilling to make it anything but difficult for her to push me away.

“Paedyn! Hey, Pae, look at me.” Rough hands are gripping the sides of my face, forcing my eyes to flutter open. They feel cold against my fevered skin, now slick with sweat, and concern is written all over the beautiful face hovering over me. I’ve never seen him so worried, so full of emotion. His cool mask has cracked, shattered, splintered into a million pieces as he lifts my head off the ground, pulling me toward him to search my face with wide, gray eyes.

And I’ve certainly never heard him call me “Pae.” I’m smiling up at him now, grinning like an idiot. I can’t stop. Delusional. I’m completely and undeniably delusional. But in this moment, I don’t want to die—if only so I can hear him say my name one more time.

“Remind me to make you smile like that again, when you aren’t dying, and I have all the time in the world to memorize it.”

His jaw tightens at the sight of the jagged wound stretching below my rib cage, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes, full of an emotion I’ve never seen from him before, trace the bloody mess on my stomach. And then my own eyes slam shut, sealing the image of him out.

“Open your eyes, dammit!” Tired. I’m so very tired. Far, far away, I hear a male voice muttering panicked words. “If you die, I’m going to kill you.”

You would think I’d be numb to witnessing hurt by now, watching Death claim another victim. But when she crumpled, something inside me cracked. The sight of her so weak, so vulnerable, so unlike herself, was enough to shatter a piece of the soul I’d forgotten I had.

I dab the fabric against a particularly deep part of the gash and her eyes fly open before her hand flies toward my face. Damn. Her slap is shockingly hard for someone who was just dangerously close to meeting Death.

There’s that look again. It’s like she’s seeing straight through my many masks, tearing down my walls, stripping me bare with nothing but her gaze. I hate it—I love it. I feel free—I feel trapped.

My fingers find her chin and then I’m tugging her face back in my direction so I can look her in the eyes as I say, “I’m going to ask again. Who did this to you?”

i am an IRL smirking emoji after this

“You… you are—” She’s sputtering again, so I kindly finish for her. “Intelligent? Irresistible?” “Calculating, cocky, and a completely arrogant bastard,” she pants. “That is what I was going to say.” A smile tugs at my lips. “Good to see you’re feeling well enough to insult me.”

wonder silently what had happened to her father, or her mother for that matter.

“Just a little more, Pae,” I breathe. She shudders and I don’t miss the movement. Whether because of the pain or because I finally said her name, I’m not sure.

So I said her name, again and again. I finally let myself do it. Let that last piece of attachment to her lock into place. Just saying her name felt intimate, personal, somehow. And now I forever want her name on my lips and rolling off my tongue until I’m drunk on the taste and sound of it.

The truth of that thought hits me like a blow to the gut. I have nothing to offer her. I am wrong, so wrong for her. She is too brave, too bold, too bloody good for me.

If I am to be her enemy, I want it to be because she loathes herself for wanting me.

iconic

Mischief dances in those smoky eyes of his as he looks up at me. “What are you doing, Gray?” “Fixing up my partner,” I say simply, beginning to unwrap his makeshift bandage. I smile before adding, “You won’t be of any use to me if you’re injured.”

“Where is the healing salve?” His expression is blank. “Gone.” I try to blink away my confusion, to no avail. “You used all of it on me?” “Without hesitation.” Cool, calm, collected. That’s Kai.

“I never wanted this. Never wanted to be what I am today. But monsters are made, not born. And I had no choice in the matter. I have no choice in the matter.

“And remind me to take a page out of your book and ditch the next ball to go get drunk with Kitt.” I could have sworn he stiffened slightly at my words. “And why would you do that when I’m so much more fun?”

“You never seem to listen, do you?” I reach up slowly, keeping my eyes trained on the wolves as I grab his wrist and pull his hand away from my mouth. “Technically, I did listen. I talked, not moved,” I whisper back, my voice sharp. I can feel his mouth smiling against my ear. “Smart-ass.”

“Orders?” I scoff. “I’m not one of your soldiers, Kai.” “You’re right, you aren’t.” He strides toward me, and the sight of him so bloody is suddenly intimidating. But I force myself to stand my ground when he halts before me, close enough now for me to see his smoky eyes turn to ice. “My soldiers don’t mean anything to me. They are expendable and easy to replace.” His chest heaves, his eyes locked with mine. “So, yes, Gray. You aren’t one of my soldiers.”

Three days since Paedyn put her hands on me after I told her to only do so if she wanted to. And I don’t think I’ve been able to catch my breath since. Every time she looks at me, I feel like I’m gasping for air. I hate it. Liar.

I’d never thought about what my favorite color was before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing.

ok this quote is iconic

“Well don’t keep me guessing, Gray.” She tilts her head up toward mine as she confidently says, “Butterscotch.” “Butterscotch,” I repeat, committing the information to memory.

“Give me your leather, Kai, or I’ll slit her throat.” The prince blinks at the scene before him, looking completely unfazed. He knows I can take care of myself, and though I’m flattered by that fact, I could use his help at the current moment.

When I look up into his face, he has the nerve to wink before saying, “Good work, Gray. I can always count on you and your violent tendencies.”

“Hey, look at me, all right? Don’t look at her. Look right at me.” Kai’s hands are still gently holding my face when I slide my gaze back to his, trying to focus on something other than the death in front of me.

“Focus on the dimples you try to convince yourself you hate, even though I know you look for them every time I smile.” Sure enough, his grin spreads, and my traitorous eyes flick to the dimples framing it.

He leans closer, eyes brimming with barely bottled-up emotions. “And I’ll save your life again and again, aimlessly hoping you will allow me to stay in it.”

“Please, Pae.” A shiver runs down my spine at the caress that is his voice. “That seems to be a foreign word to you, Prince.” “Thanks to you, I have a feeling I’m going to grow very familiar with it. Few have the power to make me plead.”