Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

by Lauren Roberts

“This is not a goodbye, only a good way to say bye until I see you next!”

He’s suddenly still. His eyes roam over my face, lips slightly parted as he takes me in. Then he blinks. Once. Twice. His dark lashes flutter, gray eyes flicking between mine as he says, “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.”

She’s so stunning, yet so stubbornly oblivious to how the sunset behind dulls in comparison to the vibrance that is her.

“And I’ll save your life again and again, aimlessly hoping you will allow me to stay in it.”

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.

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.”

“It’s strange,” he says quietly, his eyes scanning the crowded garden. “I haven’t known her for long, and yet, I find myself wanting to know her for longer.”

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

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 want you closer. He doesn’t hesitate. His arm is wrapped around my middle and tugging me against him before I have a chance to catch my breath. 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’s devastating. Everything about him is stunning and sharp and stealing my breath away. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that suddenly makes swallowing seem like a struggle, breathing seem like a chore. I’ve never been looked at like it’s a privilege to be in my presence, an honor to hold my gaze, a gift to get a glimpse of me. Not until I met him.

He says my name like it’s sacred, like it’s an oath he’s swearing. He tilts his head to the side, eyes roaming over my face. “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.”

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