Page 39 of Hunted by the Fallen
Zeke gives my head a gentle shake. “Whatever is happening, Ron, I need you to snap out ofit.”
My grip tightens. “Nothing is happening.” Nothing that I don’t want tohappen.
One moment, I’m staring at Zeke, willing him to close the distance between us. The next, I take matters into my ownhand.
Not giving him the chance to stop me, I pull my hands down, bringing his elbows with me. Then, I lean forward and press my lips againsthis.
Sixteen
I’m embarrassedto say it, but I’ve imagined my first kiss hundreds of times. Underneath a sky full of stars, in the middle of a rain storm, after an argument when I felt sure a growing relationship was about to end—pretty much every cliché you can imagine. But no matter what romantic scenario my adolescent mind created, one thing remained the same ever since I was fourteen: Zeke was always the one who gave me my firstkiss.
Though we spent such a small amount of time together, he’d left a mark. Zeke was aloof but caring. Quiet, yet friendly. Not to mention I thought he was the most handsome guy I’d ever seen. I fancied myself in love with him all those years ago, and I’d dreamed of a future when we might one day end up together. Of course, that all changed over the years. I grew up, and I recognized my early crush for what it was. But that didn’t mean I stopped imagining what it would be like to share my first kiss with him—something I never revealed to anyone. Not evenAnnie.
But the heart remembers. And my heart has takencontrol.
My hands move from his arms to his neck. I hold Zeke as I press my lips against his. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I move in time with its beat. I don’t think. I don’t dare. I am lost in this moment. It feels right—better than anything I could have ever conjured in mydreams.
Beneath me, Zeke is frozen. His rigid frame presses against my fingertips. Our connection reveals conflicting feelings. Unease. Desire. Longing. Guilt. I drink them in, and I shift forward, refusing to let Zeke talk himself out of this moment. I’ve waited too long. I won’t let it slipaway.
My chest presses against his, and I increase the pressure behind my lips. Zeke’s fingers flex. I’m not sure if he is about to push me away or pull me tighter. My soul sings when he does thelatter.
The hands holding my head wrap around my waist and back. Zeke groans. I worry it’s a sound of discomfort. Then, he tilts my head to deepens the kiss, taking the situation into his control. I gladly hand him the reigns, my body bending to hiswill.
His palms press against me, threatening to ignite my clothes and burn them away. My chest is flush against his, I find it amazing there is even room to breathe. Zeke holds onto me like he never wants to let me go, and I am perfectly fine with thenotion.
My fingers move up into his hair, scratching his scalp. I’m rewarded with another groan, and this time I know it’s not a sound of discomfort. Zeke’s thumb brushes against the exposed skin between my t-shirt and shorts. Jolts of electricity emanate from the touch, and I want him to touch me everywhere. I want to feel the exhilarating sensation all over mybody.
“What the hell?” I’m pretty sure nothing but Adrian’s shout could have broken the spell Zeke’s kiss put me under. Our lips break apart, but both of us continue to hold one another. We’ve been caught, and I know I should let Zeke go, but my hands refuse to comply. It’s almost like my body can’t bear the thought of letting him go. Now that I’ve overcome my reservations and finally embraced him like I’d wanted to for so long, I’m afraid I may never have the chance to do thisagain.
But is that what you evenwant?
Doubt trickles into my mind. Do I want to kiss Zeke again? This complicates things. After all, its not just Zeke who claims to have a connection with my soul. What will the other Fallen think if I suddenly choose to pursue a relationship with Zeke? They’d be pissed. Or, worse, they’d behurt.
I slide my fingers out of Zeke’s hair and avert my eyes, suddenly embarrassed. Did I really just throw myself at Zeke? And did Adrian really just catchus?
“Zeke.” Adrian’s voice is deathly low. “What. The.Hell?”
Call it divine intervention, or perhaps just impeccable timing, but Lukas chooses that moment to reappear into my life, lips parted and already formulating hisrequest.
“Veronica, your services are requested thisinstance.”
I stare, wide-eyed, feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookiejar.
Before I can say anything, the Light Fallen snaps his fingers and I disappear from the hikingtrail.
* * *
Icometo my senses right as the world rights itself. Now that I have distance from the Fallen, I realize I made a huge mistake by kissing Zeke. It might not be so bad if Adrian hadn’t seen us, but now that he has, I will be forced to try and explain why I threw myself at the Dark Angel. Will I finally be forced to tell them about my dismantled ward? Will I need to explain how my connection to them is driving me crazy with desire? Just thinking about confessing my feelings makes my stomach hurt. I’m not ready for that. I’m starting to suspect I’ll never beready.
That’s when I notice Lukas’ bloodied shirt and disheveled hair. All of my worries fly out the window as I search him for injuries. I’ve never seen the Light Fallen look so out of sorts, not even on the night Charles had been knocking on death’sdoor.
“What is it?” I grab Lukas’ arm. “What’s happened?” We stand in an unfamiliar room in his mansion. I’ve explored the home enough to recognize its furnishings andarchitecture.
Lukas places a palm on my back, and I jerk away. The memory of Zeke’s burning touch is too intense—too recent. The idea of anyone else touching me feelswrong.
Lukas retracts his hand, not at all concerned by my reaction. “A fellow soldier is in a dire condition. He needs your healing if he has any hope ofsurviving.”
Aside from Charles, I don’t know any of the angels Lukas summons me to heal. But that has no impact on my desire to help them. Every male or female Lukas brings me to is always suffering grave injuries—injuries which would have killed a human within minutes. It’s still difficult for me to grasp how anyone could endure wounds such as torn and bloody wings or gutted stomachs. I know they’re angels, but even angels experience pain. I know fromexperience.
