Page 61 of Creatures of Chaos

“I’ve been holding my own. I don’t need protection.”

He glances at the bandaged hand resting in my lap, and I cover it with my uninjured one.

“It’ll heal,” is all I say, and the muscle in his jawline jumps again. I take a deep breath. “I get you don’t like seeing me hurt, but?—”

He turns toward me, crowding me, and the suddenness of the movement combined with his nearness steals my words.

There’s a wild look in Becks’ eyes I haven’t seen before. “Don’t like? Haven’t you figured it out by now?” He runs a hand through his hair, sending strands every which way, which only adds to the out-of-control vibe he’s throwing off right now. He grabs my hand, the uninjured one, his gaze beseeching, begging me to understand. “Locklyn, it’s not that I justdon’t likeseeing you hurt, it’s that itguts meto see you hurt. It’s not that I justdon’t likewatching you struggle your way through these trials, it’s that a ball of agony and dread formed and lodged in my gut the moment you crossed that line and became a competitor, and I couldn’t follow you. And tonight, to hear you say you’re not sure I genuinely care about you, that you feel less-than around me and that you think I pity you . . . that broke me.Broke. Me. And then on top of all that I had to stand there and watch you walk into another guy’s arms.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and a shudder runs through him, but then his lids snap back open, his green eyes brighter than they’ve ever been before. “It’s not that I justdon’t likeseeing you in someone else’s arms, it’s that it’sagonyfor me to see you there when I know there’s no one else’s arms you should be in but mine.”

The world freezes for two prolonged heartbeats before speeding up again.

What’s happening right now? And am I ready for it?

Becks just stares at me, waiting for my reaction, but I’m overwhelmed and too stunned to say anything. He said our almost kiss had been a mistake and wouldn’t happen again. Just the memory of that moment still stings like a slap in the face. The arranged life-mating is still hanging over his head, and without Shadow Striker I’m still powerless, still not good enough for him.

“What are you saying?” I finally ask, my voice small and breathless.

“I’m saying—” Irritation flashes across Becks’ face, and then rather than use his words to explain he’s reaching for me, dragging me toward him with one arm wrapped around my waist.

I’m practically on his lap as he palms the back of my head, tilting my face up as he slants his down and then his mouth crashes into mine.

I gasp, and Becks swallows the sound, moving his lips over mine in an unfamiliar dance that I’m quickly swept up in.

Closing my eyes, I fall into sensation, grasping Becks’ biceps to keep me grounded.

Becks’ kisses are passionate but not demanding, and it gives me the courage to explore, brushing my lips over his with varying degrees of pressure, from feather-like touches to soul searing connections. His hand trails from the back of my headdown my neck, making me shiver. He brushes his thumb against the underside of my jaw and a low moan rumbles deep in my chest. I never knew how sensitive the skin there could be until that moment.

There’s a slight tremor in his hand that intensifies when I take the kiss deeper. He starts to pull me closer, before he stops. I realize he’s trying to hold back, but I can’t imagine anything feeling as good as what he’s doing to me right now, so I don’t want him to hold back. I want him unfiltered and unfettered from duty and responsibility. I want him to give me everything he’s feeling so I know his desire for me matches my own for him.

Without thinking, I nip at Becks’ lower lip and the tenuous hold he has on himself snaps. With a growl, he pulls me even closer, eliminating any space between us.

He kisses me with a possessiveness I wasn’t prepared for. Every glide of his mouth sends a shockwave through me, and it isn’t long before I’m gasping for air, overwhelmed by a cacophony of emotions and sensations.

And just when it seems like we’re at the precipice of something unknown, we break apart, both of us panting for air.

I blink as I raise my hand and press my fingers to my swollen lips. Becks’ mouth looks as swollen as mine feels, and there’s color dusting his cheekbones that I can make out in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, his hold on me loosening. “I forgot myself. I shouldn’t have?—”

I press two fingers to his mouth, stopping his words. That was the single best moment of my life, and if he tries to take it back I may not survive.

“It was perfect,” I say, and Becks releases a breath, his tense muscles relaxing.

A lazy smile grows on his face, and that combined with his disheveled hair makes him look roguish in the best possible way.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, looking back down at my mouth, and my heart rate spikes.

“How long?” I ask, my gaze dropping to his plumped lips.

“Longer than I’m willing to admit,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh, and then slides me off his lap.

I’m instantly disappointed with the distance. I quite liked cuddling on his lap, but I’m not bold enough to voice my preference.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask, looking at my hands. Sadness starts to darken the edges of the bliss I felt moments before. Nothing about our situation has changed in the last ten minutes, but at the same time . . . everything has.

Becks reaches across and gently takes my bandaged hand, inspecting the wrappings. A little blood has leaked through. The glue must have split while we were kissing. I should probably get it stitched.

---