Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

by Lauren Roberts

“No,” she says slowly, “I was thinking we could do something different.” “And why’s that?” I take a step closer to her, leaning in as I say, “Is hand-to-hand too distracting, having to be so close to me?” She somehow manages to take a step even closer. “Not at all. I don’t get distracted, Azer.” “That sounds like a challenge.” “Only if you’re in the mood to lose.” Plagues, this girl.

“We each get three shots per round. Highest score wins.” “Fair enough.” I extend my hand toward her to shake on the rules, as is customary. She slowly grasps my hand, holding it firmly as her calluses brush my own. Then I tug her toward me, pulling her against my chest where I murmur close to her ear, “Good luck, Gray.”

Damn. Archery has never been my favorite, and clearly, Paedyn doesn’t feel the same. She’s a natural. So confident, so controlled, as if the bow is nearly an extension of her arm. The arrow obeys her as she wills it to land exactly where she wants. And I’m suddenly thinking she’s right. I might lose this. “You’re up.” She steps back beside me, and with a mocking whisper, says, “Good luck, Azer.” Plague knows I’ll need it.

I fight a small smile at my sudden idea. If I’m going to lose, I might as well have some fun. I take a step toward her. Then I slowly step behind her—close behind her. My chest presses against her back at the same moment I let my hand lazily find her waist. She jumps at the sudden contact, and I laugh softly, close to her ear. “What are you doing?” Her words are breathless, but she doesn’t move, frozen against me. My lips are close to her ear as I murmur, “Distracting you.”

She lets out a forced laugh, feigning confidence. “I told—” Words fail her when my hand begins exploring farther along her waist, her abdomen, atop her thin tank. She swallows. “I told you I don’t get distracted.” “Yes,” my fingers begin tracing lazy circles up and down her side, “and I could have sworn you tapped your left foot as you said it.” I lean in even closer, whispering against her ear, “And we both know that means you’re lying.”

Then those ocean eyes tear from mine when she turns back to the target, grabbing another arrow. But she never tries to step out of my grasp. She’s too stubborn. If she moves now, she knows it will only prove just how much I truly distract her.

“Yeah, well at least you might be able to hit my heart, unlike the bullseye—” I’m not surprised when I feel the hard jab of an elbow sink into my stomach. The air whooshes out of me, but as soon as I catch my breath, I’m laughing. Paedyn huffs and I tug her closer to me, using this game as an excuse to hold her, touch her. Her head rests on my chest as she examines the target, breathing deeply. And I’m doing the same. My chest heaves, the feel of her against me almost too much to breathe properly. We fit together so perfectly, so right. I can hardly think, or breathe, or move when my fingers glide across her skin, her waist, her body.

Something brushes my arm, a whisper against my skin. My head whips to the side, eyes crashing into blue ones below. She looks up at me through her lashes, eyes burning into mine, full of fire. Her hand hovers just above the exposed skin on my arm, teasing without touching. “What are you doing, Gray?” I ask, turning my attention back toward the target. “Distracting,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables. Her hand brushes my arm again, lightly. So lightly. I smile. “Darling, you’re going to have to do better than that.” “No,” she says coolly, “I don’t think I do.”

That’s when it hits me. She’s right. She doesn’t need to do anything more to distract me. The mere thought of her being so close and barely touching me has my head spinning. I’m melted by the promise that her fingers gave me, promise of more, promise of something. Nothing. She won’t lay her hands on me. Instead, she’ll drive me mad by teasing me with her touch, only to pull it away, leaving me wanting more. Leaving me cold without the fire her fingers trail along my skin.

Slowly, so damn slowly, she lets her fingers slide over my skin, heavier than before. A single touch has never made me feel so on fire. And she knows exactly what she is doing. She knows that barely feeling her at all will drive me mad in a way I can’t explain, in a way I’ve never felt before. “You’re a cruel little thing, you know that?” My voice is deep, desperate. “But I’ve barely laid a finger on you,” she says softly, emphasizing her words with a single finger tracing up my forearm. “Exactly.”

Maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe I chose to distract her because I knew she was too stubborn to not do the same to me. Maybe I did it all just because I wanted her hands on me, too. Because it was an excuse for me to hold her, for her to hold me. And now that she isn’t, I’m craving her touch. Craving her.

I fire the arrow, not bothering to wait and see where it lands before I’ve thrown my bow to the ground, spun around, and gripped her wrists instead. I pull her toward me, staring into her startled eyes. Her lips part, either in surprise or because she’s about to tell me off, I’m not sure. “Don’t,” I pause, swallow, exhale slowly, “play with me like that.”

AHHHHH

Her palm meets my skin and it’s almost like I remembered how to breathe again. I press my hand on top of hers, holding her skin firmly against mine. I smile now that she’s finally, fully touching me, rather than taunting me with the tips of teasing fingers.

“I didn’t realize a single touch could affect you so much.” “Neither did I.”

I selfishly find myself wishing he was more like his father because it would make this betrayal far more bearable.

I have spent day after day with Kitt, earning his trust all while crafting a plan to get the information I need.

oh you is not right

“A king who doesn’t know his people cannot be a king for his people.”

The look Kitt gives me is comical. I choke back a laugh as his eyes bore into mine, pleading with me not to leave him. I give him a small smile, hoping he sees the apology in my eyes as I say, “Of course. He’s all yours.”

yes take him so we can dance with kai

Wine is dripping from the edges of his suit, and he can’t seem to stop laughing long enough to notice, or even care, that my clumsiness has ruined his clothes. I clear my throat, eying the guests eying us as I say, “Kai,” another deep rumble of laughter at the sound of his name, “why don’t we go get you cleaned up?”

Kai leans against the rough trunk, grinning wickedly at me. I give him a quick once-over, assessing the damage I did to his clothes along with his strange behavior. He leans close, too close, studying me thoroughly. “You know,” he breathes the words in a way that sends a shiver down my spine, “you didn’t have to spill my drink all over me to get me alone. You could have just asked me to dance.”

oh hush

I meet his gaze before it begins to trail lazily down my body. I hold my breath, practically feeling the path his eyes are burning. Then, slowly, so insufferably, sensually, scandalously slow, his gaze makes its way back to mine. “Better yet, you would have made me come to you in that dress, sooner or later.”

“You’re drunk.” I sigh out the words, shaking my head at him. He’s smirking at me again, though it’s wilder than the ones I’ve grown so used to. “Maybe a little.”

oh this is gonna be fun

“Are you undressing me, Gray?” His face is close to mine again, breath tickling my cheek. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t think this day would come.” He adds with an amused whisper, “Couldn’t resist me, darling?”

hehehe

Then fingers catch my chin, and my breath catches in turn. Kai tilts my head up to meet his gaze, fingers dancing along my jaw. He’s looking at me like one would a painting—drinking in every detail, delighting in its originality, deeming it a work of art.

“Well maybe if you’d kept your eyes on the dance floor and your nose out of your glass, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I say coolly. “Oh, darling, my eyes were on the dance floor,” he says casually. “They were on you dancing with my brother.” Then he huffs out a laugh, craning his neck to shake his head at the canopy of leaves above us. “Why do you think I’ve been drinking?”

“Shh.” His fingers have found their way back under my chin, my jaw, cupping my face. Gray eyes drop to my mouth, gaze heavy. And then he’s dragging his thumb along the length of my bottom lip. Wine. I can taste it still coating the thumb he’s swiping across my mouth. I’m stunned, stone-still as his eyes track where his finger traces, ever so slowly, back and forth.

His next words are a murmur, as if he’s muttering his innermost thoughts while his thumb continues to wander over my lip. “Will you forever be the prize I am aimlessly trying to win?” I inhale sharply, staring him down as I say, “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.”

did i mention i love it here?

“You’re not sober.” Tilting my head, I give him a smile. “So, you’re not allowed to touch me.” He copies me, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at where I’m holding his wrist. “But you’re touching me.” “Yes, well, I’m sober.” A smile plays at his lips. “So, you’re saying I’m allowed to touch you when I’m sober?” His tone sounds more like a challenge than a question. I consider it. Then I laugh. “I’m only saying yes because I doubt you’ll remember much of this conversation in the morning.” His gaze flicks between my mouth and eyes, a drunken smirk twisting his lips. “Oh, darling, I doubt I could forget this.”

“Obviously, that stain is not going to come out like this. You’ll need to take off your shirt and soak it.” His grin is wicked. “You’re trying to get me naked? Again?” He says this far too loud and I’m sure far too many people hear it. I pin him against the tree, clamping a hand over his mouth so no more nonsense can come spewing out of it.

OH BROTHER (yes)

I’m trying not to laugh and failing miserably. I snort and clamp a hand over my mouth, shaking with less than silent laughter at my current situation. At that, I feel Kai’s lips smiling against my palm and tug my hand back before I can change my mind. “Don’t stop,” he murmurs. I nearly choke on my laugh. “Stop what?” “That. Laughing.”

Words fail me when he lifts the back of my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. Then his mouth finds the pad of my thumb, lips lightly pressing there before they vanish so quickly, I wonder if I’ve imagined it.

“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.”

“Then why don’t you give me an example of a good compliment, Gray?” I should have seen that coming. 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—” “Your smile.” I cut him off before his offer can tempt me. “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.”

“Malakai.”

mm mm dont call him that

“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,” he says quietly.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I’m reminded of Kitt’s same question at the previous ball as I say, “Are you?” He exhales slowly. “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.”

Gray eyes flick between mine, worry reflecting in them. “Is everything all right?” I hadn’t noticed how quickly I’m breathing, how I’m trying to gulp down air and failing miserably. Kai looks suddenly sober and suddenly serious, which I can only assume means that he can see the panic plastered all over my face. His arm tightens ever so slightly around me, ever so protectively.

“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. “Just a little farther. Hold on,” he murmurs, pushing us through the crowd and back under the dark willow.

In the shadows, I can barely make out Kai standing in front of me, wearing the same look he had when I was bleeding out on the forest floor before him. “Breathe, Pae. Breathe.” He seems to be struggling for air himself, his eyes scanning my face as mine dart around frantically. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me,” he says softly, more softly than I’ve ever heard him speak.

I clutch the top of the sleeveless gown and tug it up, gawking at him. “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.” He winks. He winks. I’m fuming.

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.

“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. But when he takes a step toward me, he only says, “Fair enough.” “It doesn’t need to be tight,” I say, turning slowly toward the tree. “But I do need the dress to stay on.” I barely hear his soft steps behind me before I feel his fingers brush my bare back as he gathers the laces. He pulls gently at the ties, as though almost unsure of himself. I almost laugh. The action feels far too timid to belong to the prince behind me.

I duck my head and smile. “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.”

the urge to cryyy

“What the hell happened to you?” “Paedyn.” I sigh again. “Paedyn happened to me.”

What do I think of her? When do I not think of her? I grab the flask from Kitt’s fingers and repeat the same words I said earlier. “I’m not drunk enough to talk about this right now.” Lies. Even sober she has my head spinning. I don’t need to be drunk to admit what she’s done to me, how she’s made me feel

And then my eyes stop on him, roaming over the rolled pants and the now see-through shirt sticking to the body beneath. He’s dumped water on himself in an effort to sober up, and a faint smile lifts my lips at the sight of him shaking out his wet hair.

“Next up is Blair Archer and…” Tealah skims the card before saying, “Paedyn Gray!” I let out a shaky breath while my heart slams against my rib cage. Of course it’s her.

SIGH.

My braid flies over my shoulder and nearly hits me in the face when I turn to see Kai staring down at me. I barely glimpse the bloody cuts and bruises that are already beginning to bloom on his face before he pulls me against him. To anyone else, it likely looks as though I stumbled into the prince. He dips his head so his lips are brushing my ear as he begins speaking in a hushed, hurried tone. “Stay on your toes and keep moving. You’re scrappier than her so use your head and use anything you can. She’s weak physically where you are not, so take advantage of it.” Then he leans back enough for me to look up into those smoky eyes as he murmurs, “Distract her. You’re good at that.”

thanks bae

This was never about winning—it was about making a point. Proving to myself, and everyone watching, that I am still a threat. Whether I have a power like theirs or not, I will find a way to hurt them.