Grace and Glory (The Harbinger 3) - Page 29

One second I was so close to breaking Zayne’s hold—so close to using the Sword of Michael—and the next I was swept off my feet and into the air. My grace sputtered out as I hit the grass. The impact was brutal, but it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been Dez.

He slammed into one of the fountain basins, cracking the stone. He dropped into the pool of water.

Zayne had flung both of us like we were paper planes, but somehow I ended up in a much softer, kinder to the body area. Dez was in his Warden form. He’d be fine, but if I had hit the basin at that kind of speed, I would be out like a light.

I started to pull on my grace. It flared weakly in my chest, just below my heart. I shouldn’t be as tapped out as I was now. It had to be the fact my body was still healing itself from Gabriel’s beatdown, because I shouldn’t be this exhausted.

Wings stirred my hair, serving as a warning that Zayne was near. I flipped onto my side, tipping my head back. He stood above me, grace rippling through his widespread wings. Our gazes met and then held. He watched me, nostrils flared, as I struggled to my feet, not breaking eye contact. The opportunity to take me out was endless. At any point, he could end my life before I even realized what was happening. But he made no move against me. Maybe it was foolish naivety or desperation, but hope surged through me. If he was truly lost and saw me as nothing more than a threat and a challenge—and apparently a very poor one at the moment—he would take me out.

But he didn’t.

He cocked his head as I stepped toward him, but he didn’t move. Heart fluttering like a trapped bird, I took another step and then another, not stopping until there was only an inch or two separating us.

I had no idea what overtook me. Maybe I knocked a few important brain cells loose. Would make sense considering how many times I’d been thrown around in the last week. Or maybe I was too stupid to live. “Are you going to kill me now?”

A muscle ticked along his jaw.

Each breath I took was too shallow, too quick. “You could do it, right? Not even break a sweat. Why haven’t you?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Do you want to die?”

I shook my head. “I want you. That’s what I want. I want you back.”

His brows knitted, and then I saw his gaze drop to my mouth. The predatory glint to his features changed, becoming intense in a wholly different way. Inherently, I recognized that look and the sudden tautness of need, of want. It was one of the first human things I’d seen from him since he returned. His lips parted, and I didn’t know if he was about to say something or not. I moved faster than I realized I could right then. Reaching up, I clasped his chilled cheeks as I stretched onto the tips of my toes. I pulled his head down to mine, and I pressed my lips to his.

I kissed him.

The feel of him was the same in some ways. His skin was smooth under my palms. The shape and form of his lips were the same. He still tasted of fresh, morning air. But that was where the similarity ended. He didn’t move. His lips were too cold. I wasn’t sure if he breathed as I tilted my head, praying and begging for some reaction that proved Zayne was still in there, that he hadn’t completely become this inhuman creature.

There was nothing.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I kissed him again and again, my cheeks becoming damp—

Then Zayne changed.

His mouth yielded under mine, softening and opening. He tilted his head, aligning his mouth with mine more fully, and I could’ve screamed hallelujah, but that would’ve been weird and counterproductive at the moment. That was the last thing I wanted to be. I felt the touch of his tongue, and that wasn’t cold. My body flushed. It wasn’t just me kissing him. He was kissing me back, and it didn’t remain soft or questioning. It deepened, becoming hungry and wild, consuming and potent. A wave of shivers pimpled my skin. A deep rumbling sound came from the back of his throat, and the flush became even hotter. The tips of his fingers touched my cheek, my hair. His hand flattened, his skin cool but warming against mine—

Zayne jerked his head away so suddenly I almost toppled over. In a daze, I opened my eyes and saw that he was standing several feet away, under one of the bright park lights. Even I could see that his chest was rising and falling as sharply as mine.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout The Harbinger Fantasy
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