Page 72 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
“Yes, you are. You’re always needed.”
My words somehow soften his gaze even more, and his eyes dip to my lips as he brushes his thumb across my bottom one, sending a little shiver through me that’s full of heat rather than a chill.
It centers low in my belly, blooming between my legs because I know that look.
I craved it for so long, relished every time I saw it in his eyes, wanted it as badly as I do him right now, despite everything that’s going on.
“You’ll take me up there?”
He nods. “Let’s pack a bag and go. But I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“That you won’t push yourself too hard. I know you’re feeling better, that some of your bruises and aches are starting to go away”—he slides his hand down to my side, resting it gently over my ribs—“but you’re still going to be sore for a while, and where we’re going is steep. A lot of hiking. We’ll have to spend the night up there. You need to tell me if it’s too much. You need to promise me you will.”
“I will.”
His lips tip down, concern drawing frown lines around his mouth and eyes. “I can’t watch you hurt anymore. You understand that, right?”
I nod and lean into his touch. “I do.”
He draws in a breath, his slick chest rising enough to almost brush mine. “Then let’s go. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the answers we’re looking for.”
KILLIAN
I shouldn’t have brought her up here.
After hiking for hours, navigating the unfriendly terrain, I can already see how exhausted and uncomfortable she is.
The slight tensing of her facial muscles with each step she takes. Her labored breathing. The way she keeps reaching over and grabbing her side and then quickly pulling her hand away before she thinks I’ve noticed.
But I see everything.
I notice everything.
I always did.
Because I’ve always been obsessed with her.
Even in high school, years before anything but friendship existed between us, it was always her.
She was the only one who ever caught my attention, who ever held it.
The way she laughs.
The way she smiles.
Even the way she cries is beautiful.
But I never want to see the look on her face that I have every night since she came home with me.
I never want to see her tears.
Those strange flashes of memory that she can’t piece together haunt her, making her gray eyes violently stormy. A tempest rages inside her, threatening to drag her into the dark, menacing abyss of her unknown past.
And so far, being up here has done nothing to improve her situation or give us any more information that might alleviate any of her suffering.
All it’s done is make her hurt even more than she already did.
