The Darkest Star (Origin 1) - Page 91

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I closed my eyes, remembering the stomach-twisting pain.

“Are you still dizzy?” he asked as his hand slipped down to the nape of my neck.

“No.”

“That’s good.” His voice sounded deeper.

I could feel my pulse speeding up. “I know you told me that you can heal, but I don’t understand how this is working. It seems impossible.”

“It’s the energy. It can be channeled into a human to repair bone, tissue, and muscle, even nerve damage. Wounds.” He paused. “Like I said before, we can heal almost anything that was caused externally, but we cannot heal damage from an internal source.”

“Like a virus or cancer?” I asked, recalling bits of that previous conversation.

“Some cancers they were successful at healing.” His voice thickened. “But nowhere near all of them.”

All of it sounded insane, but he had healed me, and his touch was doing something right then. My eyes were still closed, but I felt the bed shift under me—under us—and I knew he was closer. I wanted to smack myself. I should be telling him to stop doing whatever it was he was doing because I was okay and this seemed dangerous in a way, but the languid heat was making its way down my arms and over my chest, clouding my thoughts and common sense.

Luc was quiet for a long moment. “You scared me today.”

My heart skipped a beat as I opened my eyes again. I was right. Luc was close. Our mouths were separated by what felt like just inches. “I did?”

“When I got that phone call and Connor said you were hurt, I . . .” He closed his eyes, his features tensing. “It terrified me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, because it didn’t seem like anything scared Luc.

His hand was gone from the back of my head, but was now trailing down the side of my neck, eliciting a wave of acute shivers. The healing warmth from his hand was gone, but the heat was still there, curling deep in the pit of my stomach. His breath coasted over my cheek and he opened his eyes again. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

My lips parted as I pressed down into the pillow. “I am. Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t thank me.”

“I just did.”

“This shouldn’t have happened to you.” The tips of his fingers coasted over my not-so injured arm, to where my hand rested on my stomach. “I’m sorry.”

Electricity danced across my skin, following his touch. My breath hitched as his finger reached the tip of mine and then halted.

“It’s not your fault.”

An eyebrow lifted. “It’s not? This . . . thing that came after you did so because you were seen talking to me. Right?”

“You just told me what happened to Colleen wasn’t my fault. How can you blame yourself for this?”

“Because I can.” His palm moved maybe half an inch and then flattened against my stomach, right below my belly button. Little tingles shimmied across my midriff.

“You didn’t break my arm or tell the guy to do that. You fixed it. You made it better.”

Luc’s gaze lifted to mine, and his eyes reminded me of liquid fire and . . . hunger. I’d seen it before, in the way Emery looked at Heidi, and I was suddenly thinking about what it would be like for us to be in a bed under different circumstances, with his hand where it was and his eyes full of so, so much.

That half grin slipped from his mouth as a certain intensity settled around his lips. My whole body tensed as he lowered his forehead to mine.

“What . . . what are you doing now?” I asked.

“I really don’t know.” He inhaled deeply and it came out in an unsteady rush. “Actually, I’m lying. I know what I’m doing.”

I had a good idea of what he was doing too. My toes curled against the soft blanket, and my hand had a mind of its own. It left my stomach and landed against his chest. He jerked at the contact and then shuddered. My eyes widened at his response. His pupils started to glow and it had nothing to do with anger. Then his eyes closed as his head tilted to the side, lining our mouths up. I shouldn’t let this happen. I knew that. There was an entire football field length of reasons why: he was infuriating half the time, and I had a feeling he was keeping so much from me. Funny that the biggest reason, the fact that he was definitely not human, didn’t even register.

But I wanted this kiss—a real one that wasn’t stolen.

I’ve wanted this for forever.

That thought caught me off guard. Forever? There had been no forever. I hadn’t known him for forever, and most of the time I had, I’d wanted to punch him. In the throat.


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Origin Romance
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