Page 96 of Powerless

She rolls her eyes, trying to fight the smile that’s tugging at her lips. “Fine.” She lays her palm on my own and the mere contact has my pulse quickening.

What has this girl done to me?

We take a few steps away from the fire, the pale moonlight beaming and the stars twinkling. I guide her hand onto my shoulder and take the other to hold, careful not to strain her stitches. My other hand finds her waist, wrapping my arm around her back to pull her close. She feels so familiar in my arms, and I drink in every detail, memorize every movement.

We begin stepping in time to nothing but the sound of our own heartbeats and the crickets chirping around us. We’re swallowed in darkness, mere shadows in the flickering firelight.

“There’s no music,” she says flatly, her voice laced with amusement.

“Well then I guess we won’t know when to stop dancing. How unfortunate.” My chin brushes the top of her head before I dip her towards the ground, making her gasp in surprise.

“Don’t tempt me to stomp on your toes,” she threatens breathlessly.

I raise her back up slowly as I say, “Oh, we can’t have that. I’m still recovering from the last time we danced.”

We’re quiet for a moment, listening to the crunch of twigs beneath our feet and the crackling of the fire. Through her thin and battered tank, I can feel the heat of her body, feel her skin beneath my hand.

Distracting.

Her voice is quiet when she breaks the silence, as if almost reluctant to interrupt the moment. “So, the answer to my question?”

Right. That.

“Is it really so shocking that I don’t want you to die?” I lean back slightly so I can meet her eyes. “So shocking that I would help someone?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

I almost laugh. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“It’s just that,” she pauses, her eyes flitting between mine as if searching for the answer in them, “I thought you were more like your father.”

Her words slam into me. Father is...well, he is a king. He’s cold and strict and very rarely impressed, even with his own sons. I suppose in some ways he’s made me to be like him, schooled me on how to act, what to feel, and more importantly, what not to feel. Thanks to him, I’ve crafted a jumble of different masks that I can slip on and off at will.

I’m a mess. A mess of muffled emotions and well-built walls.

But because I don’t quite know the answer to her question myself, I ask her one of my own. “Is that why you hate me so much? Because you thought I was like my father who you clearly don’t care for?”

“I don’t hate you,” she answers too quickly, pausing to wonder if she’s said the right thing while I wonder why she hasn’t said it sooner.

My smile is crooked. “Oh, you don’t hate me? So, what, every threat on my life is a declaration of love, then?”

“I said I don’thateyou, prince. That doesn’t mean I don’t despise you.”

I duck my head, eyes searching hers. “I think you despise that youdon’tdespise me.” Her mouth falls open before she snaps it shut and fixes me with a glare. I seem to have rendered her speechless.

Well, that’s a first.

“Use your words, Gray.” I smile, spinning her before pulling her back to me. “Tell me, am I wrong?”

“I thought I was the one askingyouthe questions?” she says, distracting and diverting my attention with that devastating smile and deliberate words.

And she thinks I’m the calculating one.

She looks away from me, biting the inside of her cheek before meeting my gaze again. “Would you have helped one of the others?” A pause. “Someone other than Jax or Andy?”

Someone other than the few people I truly care about.

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Darling, I doubt that the sight of someone dying would affect me as much as you do alive and well.”

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