Page 146 of The Immortal's One
It never happens.
The shouts and crashes of fighting move away, as if travelling down a hallway.
Slowly, Des’s shoulders relax, and his power flickers out of existence. He looks down at me and takes a deep breath. “Can you walk?”
I look at my offending legs. “I don’t know?—”
His hands dive into his hair. His eyes slam shut and he curses, “Shit.”
“But I can try,” I quickly add.
“No…” His eyes snap open. He crouches down in front of me. Uncertainty covers his expression. “You don’t understand.” Turbulent, conflicted thoughts swirl behind his eyes. Seconds pass until one settles, and he dips his chin in resignation.
I stare at the dark hair curling around his temples, wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through the strands.
“Whatever Adir did…” His features tighten. “Whatever he did, it hasn’t left your body. We need to get your strength back if we’re going to have any chance of escaping.”
I bob my head. “Alright. How do I do that?”
He exhales a ragged breath. “I don’t know what Adir did, but physical contact seems to help draw the spell or power out of your body.” He lifts his eyes, and air rushes out of my lungs when I see the heat burning in his gaze. “I’ll need to kiss you again.”
Every muscle clenches in delight.
“Oh.” I exhale and drop my gaze, my cheeks warming with the rest of my body.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Des’s kiss was responsible for pulling me out of my semi-coma. Now that it has, the timing makes sense.
I can think of worse ways to handle this situation…
“Believe me, Darcie.” His tone draws my eyes back to his. His desire is gone, replaced with…embarrassment?He continues, “I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t necessary. If we had more time, I’d let you regain your strength at your own pace.”
Disappointment, swift and agonizing, chills my desire.
I look away, unable to meet his eyes again, my face burning for an entirely different reason. “It’s fine.”
He exhales. With his free hand, he grabs my chin and gently turns my face towards him. I close my eyes, unwilling to let him see my hurt.
Then, he leans in.
His lips press against mine.
I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.
I don’t want Des to get the impression Ilikekissing him. This is a necessity—nothing more. He’s made that clear.
He cradles my face, his lips moving expertly, urging mine to part. Our breath mingles. I don’t know what to do. Every part of me wants to throw myself into this kiss, but this isn’t romantic.
Des didn’t know how else to give me back strength. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’twantto kiss me.
Keep telling yourself that.
With each passing second, the passion in the kiss grows. Des’s breathing increases. One hand slides to my back, pressing me into him.
I ache with want.
Desire coils in my core. I can’t resist.
I don’twantto.
