Page 24 of Creatures of Chaos

He looks me over from head to toe and back up again, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. I fidget, uncomfortable with his regard.

“Don’t you agree?” Talon asks, his gaze still locked with mine, so I think he’s talking to me until I sense a presence at my back.

When I glance over my shoulder, Becks is standing there, fists clenched and muscles bunched as he glares daggers at Talon.

“What are you doing here?” Becks asks the same question I’d presented to Talon, but Becks doesn’t meanhereat Deepseat Caverns like I did, he meanshereas in talking to me. On a different day I might be pleased by the note of possessiveness, but instead the darkness in Becks’ voice turns my stomach sour.

I step to the side so I can keep an eye on both Becks and Talon. There’s something going on between them that feels a little dangerous, but I can’t for the life of me fathom why. They hardly know each other, and as far as I can tell I’ve had more interaction with Talon than Becks has, so it doesn’t make sense that Becks looks like he’s one wrong comment away from throwing down.

“I’m just enjoying the festivities and keeping Freckles company,” Talon says, his smile growing when Becks’ eyes narrow. “I saw you talking to Vesper when I first came in. She certainly is . . .” Talon pauses, looking like he’s mulling over how to describe Vesper, finally landing on " . . . persistent.”

At the mention of Vesper and Becks, any lingering hint of excitement I had for this evening disappears. Becks opens his mouth to respond when the music is cut and the crowd roars in displeasure.

“That’s weird,” I start, but then the lights disappear as well, plunging the cave into total and utter darkness.

There’s a beat of silence and then pandemonium erupts. Some creatures, like certain shifters and vampires, have varying degrees of night vision, but the rest of us are blinded. Screams echo off the cavern walls and feet pound against the stone ground as partygoers start racing toward the exit. Someone slams into me, and I get the wind knocked out of me when I hitthe ground. A booted foot stomps on my leg before I can regain my footing, and a sharp burst of pain explodes on my thigh.

“Locklyn!” Becks shouts.

“Over here,” I croak as I scooch toward the perimeter of the cavern, searching for the wall so I don’t get trampled.

“Keep your head down,” Becks calls out, and then a plume of fire shoots from his hands into the air, hovering in the space above my head long enough for him to spot me from half a dozen feet away.

It goes dark again, but before I know it, arms wrap around me, and I’m hauled to my feet. Becks walks me backward until my back bumps up against the cavern wall. The coolness of the stone behind me seeps through my clothes, giving me chills.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rising above the din of panic.

He has me boxed in between two immovable forces: his body in front and the stone behind. I only realize my hands are on his chest when I register the furious cadence of his heartbeat. No doubt it matches my own. Under normal circumstances I’d be self-conscious about our closeness, but in the darkness his presence makes me feel safe, protected.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, breathless. I’m probably going to have a boot-shaped bruise on my thigh tomorrow, but I don’t think anything is broken.

“You sure you’re not hurt?” It’s too dark for me to see his face clearly, but the touch of panic in his voice rings loud and clear.

Without waiting for my response, his hands start to roam from my shoulders down my arms and the sides of my body as he checks for . . . what? Maybe broken bones? I know his touch is innocent, but the caress of his hands over my body feels criminally good, and my words stick in my throat. Despite the madness around us, my limbs go languid as I sway toward Becks.

Becks’ hands suddenly stop on my hips and tighten. “Locklyn?” he asks, his voice filled with uncertainty. His face is so close his breath feathers across my forehead and a thrill runs through me when I think of how near his mouth is to my own.

I have to swallow to wet my suddenly dry throat before answering, and even then my voice is no louder than a whisper. “I’m not hurt.”

In the distance, someone yells that the exit is blocked and then pinpricks of faelight start to illuminate the space behind Becks. His face is still shrouded in shadows, but between the low light and his night vision, I have no doubt he can see me clearly now.

“Locklyn,” he whispers again, and skims a hand up my rib cage and over my shoulder to land on my neck, his fingers gentle as he brushes them back and forth over the sensitive skin. My lids get heavy, and I have to battle to keep my eyes open.

Becks has never held me like this. He’s never touched me the way he is now, and the assault on my senses causes the flimsy shield around my emotions to shatter. My feelings for him that I usually stuff way down deep balloon in my chest. I know they’re probably broadcasting across my face, but the moment is too raw for me to hide them.

Part of me realizes this is a completely inappropriate time for us to be having a moment. The bedlam in the cavern hasn’t subdued. Party goers shriek and race back and forth looking for a way out, but I’m so focused on Becks that the craziness surrounding us might as well be a million miles away. A bomb could fall on us in this instant and I’d hardly notice.

I inch the hand that I have pressed up against his chest higher and he stops breathing, his muscles tensing impossibly tighter.

What’s gotten into me? I’ve never been this bold with Becks before, but deep inside I’m both out of control and completelycalm. Like this is where we’ve been heading all along, but we just needed a little push to get here.

Becks may never be my future, but in this moment it feels like he’s mine and I’m not letting it pass without claiming him.

The faelight shining behind Becks is just bright enough to make out the curve of his jaw, the arch of his cheekbone, and a flash of his green eyes. He’s drifted toward me and now his lips are only inches from my own. I tip my head back, sliding my hand even higher so that I’m cupping his jaw, his scruff deliciously rough under my fingertips.

Becks’ breathing is as ragged as mine. His hand clutching my hip curves to my lower spine and he draws me closer, while his other hand slides from my neck to the back of my head. The gentle tugs on the strands as he buries his fingers in my hair send bolts of electricity through me.

As more fae use their magic to light the cavern, the crowd finally starts to calm. The murmurs behind Becks seem more confused than panicked now—but who cares? Becks and I are in our own glass bubble, separate from the rest of the world. This couldn’t feel more right, and it’s a toss-up about whether I want this moment to last forever, or rush toward the precipice we’re about to fall over.

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