Light (Gone, #6)

by Michael Grant

Why had she forced him to admit his feelings? Women. Didn’t they know that emotions were meant to be suppressed? “Love sucks,” Caine muttered. Diana nuzzled against him, her lips on his neck, sending chills all through his body. A line of night-blue between separated curtains became a line of gray. Dawn, and time to go. He slid carefully, silently, out of the bed. Where were his clothes? He’d left them right here, right on the floor, knowing he would have to dress silently to escape undiscovered. “I hid them,” Diana said. He turned to face her. “And why would you do that?” “So you couldn’t sneak away. Really, Caine: how long have I known you? Also . . .” “Uh-huh?” “Also I like you like this.” He swallowed hard, feeling strangely vulnerable and a little silly. “You said we couldn’t . . .” “Mmmm. True. But I still like looking at you. It’s a good thing you’re so rotten,” she said with a long sigh. “Scares off most girls. I never would have had a chance with you if you’d been a decent human being.” “I wasn’t running away,” he said. “I know. I know what you were doing, Caine. And thanks for the thought. But I want to be there to see the end. I want to see you stop her.” “Yeah,” he said, straining to put some slight shred of optimism into the word. “If you’re coming, then we have to go.” “Or the reverse of that . . . We have a few minutes,” she said. “Come here. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”