Page 187 of The First Spark
“Zane?”
He barely choked out, “Where’s Mira?”
“She’s gone.”
Zane’s heart slammed to a halt. The machine screeched. Gone. She couldn’t begone.Mira had been shot and stabbed and walked through explosions like it was nothing. No way in hell a few legionnaires had finished her off. They couldn’t have, not when he’d left so much unresolved between them, not when he’d been so cruel to her the last time they’d spoken.
“I mean she left,” Kalie said, grabbing his hand. Her warm touch jolted him out of his spiral. “She got you secure and called me, after I shot—after Iliana died. She’s okay.”
Zane sank into the pillows, blowing out a slow breath. That made more sense.
“She hung up before I could get any answers, but Cybel sent me a message saying she had another mission, something confidential. She had to leave immediately. You should call her, though, she was acting strange.”
“Well,” Mylis said, smiling weakly, “itisMira. Isn’t she always a little strange?”
Zane threw back his head and laughed. The tightness gripping hischest loosened, and the monitor returned to a steady rhythm. If Mira was safe, Iliana was dead, and the hospital was secure enough for Kalie to visit, it was all over. He would call Mira and set things right as soon as he was back on his feet.
A harried nurse came by a few moments later and escorted Mylis back to his room in a hoverchair, despite his protests. Clinking tools filled the sudden silence as a nurse took Zane’s vitals, dosed him with a line of meds, and left with the order not to strain himself.
The door clicked shut, leaving him alone with Kalie.
Sweat coated Zane’s palms, and he swiped them across the navy comforter, cringing at the oily smears left behind. The monitor was racing. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Zane straightened up.
“I was thinking of spending a few weeks at the beach,” Kalie said abruptly, with a faraway look in her eyes and a coy smile on her lips. “There’s this island called Avington, you know, and you should see the new baron. He’s got this infuriating smirk and some truly awful self-preservation instincts, but I?—”
Zane’s sore ribs slammed into the metal rails as he lurched over the edge of the bed, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. She gave a little moan of surprise, but as her hands roamed up his back and threaded through his hair, her body melted against his. There were no words to describe the overwhelming joy surging through him. No words, but the ones that had been circling his head since he’d watched her walk away from his prison cell.
“Wait,” he breathed, breaking away.
Confusion and disappointment warred on her face.
He brushed his thumb over a crease at the corner of her lip, trying to wipe her frown away. His throat was thick, but his smile was so wide that his bruised face ached. He didn’t care. “I didn’t get a chance to say it before you left the cell, and I—honestly, thinking about it scares the shit out of me, but after you left, I was terrified I would die before I got a chance to?—”
“You’re rambling.”
The words were right there. On the tip of his tongue, screaming in his mind, roaring in his heart. When he opened his mouth, though, nothing came out.
Her frown deepened.
Zane breathed in the sterile air, freshened by the bouquets of flowers. They were safe. Now was the time to take risks, to let himself live. “I’ve been sleepwalking through life since Lysa died. Pushing people away, shutting them out, because I thought if I didn’t let myself feel, I couldn’t be hurt again. But you…”
Kalie’s eyebrows knitted together.
Nervous flutters danced in his stomach and tremors ran through his hands, but even if it ended badly, even if it broke his heart later… She was worth it.
“You make me feel alive, Kalie,” he said, twining his fingers through hers, “and I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”
Kalie’s breath caught.
“And I want to see where this goes, if you’ll have me.”
Her radiant smile lit her face. “You really mean that?”
Zane brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “I’ve never meant anything more.”
Kalie launched herself at him. The bedsprings squeaked as she crashed into his chest, and with a startled laugh, he wrapped his arms around her. Gripping her hair, he claimed her lips. Her fingers crept across his bare chest, shooting shocks over the tender pink scar stretching across his wound. He gasped and tightened his arms around her as they rolled over in the bed, tangled together, still kissing.
This felt good. This felt right.
