Page 48 of As the World Falls

I’m not sure why, but I have to swallow back a knot that has begun to form in my throat. For so long, I’d felt lost in the blur of the world, whether it was taking care of my brother and dad, running the library, or using all my strength to try and commit to Lance because I knew nothing else but him. I always feel like I’m doing everything for everyone else and not paying attention to me at all. I didn’t stop to think about what I wanted, how I felt, or what I wanted to say until I met James. For someone so corrupt and unapproachable, he brings everything out of me that I never knew was locked inside. He makes it matter even when most of it is hostility directed towards him.

“Be careful, James,” I murmur, trying to distract myself from the chasm opening in my chest. “You might fool me into thinking you actually care about me.”

He grins, pulling his hand away from me but squeezing my other tighter in his other hand. “Mr. Kingston,” he corrects me.

I can’t help but smirk as he pulls on my hand again, leading me further inside the warehouse until we’re near the back, where there’s hardly anyone around. He stops just in front of a display holding pieces I don’t think are meant to be picked and taken out of here.

“Do you know what these are?” he asks, looking back at me.

“They look like raw crystals,” I answer, observing them. So many protruded like towers from a bed of even more sparkling crystal rock beneath it. There were small ones that I could fit inthe palm of my hand and large ones that were nearly the size of my head. “I didn’t know you guys sold stuff like this.”

“We don’t. This is a personal purchase I’ve recently acquired.”

“Oh, so you have a thing for testing out the merchandise?” I say slyly.

He chuckles. “I have a thing for crystals.”

“You prefer these over the haughty jewelry you make with them?”

“I do. They’re imperfect and natural. They haven’t been faceted into something perfect that everyone wants to flash on their bodies. Only few will appreciate its raw beauty just as it comes.”

“Wow,” I breathe out, his words sparking emotion inside me. “That’s actually kind of a beautiful way to look at them.”

He glances at me. “It’s how I wish people would look at other people in life,” he admits.

I meet his gaze, that chasm I felt earlier feels like it’s growing bigger in my chest. “Is that how you wish people would look at you?”

His jaw clenched, and he tears his gaze away from me. “I don’t care how people look at me. It’s just the principle. Everyone has flaws, but no one ever chooses to love them along with the whole person. They only love the perfect things when love means loving the imperfect.”

Understanding hits me now, and I look at him in a new light. “That’s why you think love is bullshit? You think it’s all vain.”

He looks back at me. “Perhaps.”

The idea saddened me because although I hardly had any examples, I didn’t think that was true about love. I focus back on the crystals before me and look down to the bottom shelf, seeing a round shimmering ball. I kneeled, inspecting it more, and unable to help myself, I picked it up.

“What’s this?” I ask, scanning its round iciness.

“It’s a crystal ball,” he answers, eyeing it in my hands.

I smile up at him. “Do you think it can tell us the future?”

He grins. “If you’re a witch. Are you a witch, Cecilia?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“I’ve wondered on occasion,” he quips. I laugh again and set the ball back down on the bottom shelf, but when I stand up, I smack my head on the corner of the top shelf. The crystals on the shelf bounce as I do, and one sways, nearly tipping over the edge. James’s hands spring out, grabbing the top of my head and holding it just as his other catches the nearly fallen crystal.

“Jesus, are you okay?” he rushes out, holding my head against his chest. I couldn’t answer him right now. Not because I was hurt. I actually couldn’t feel any pain because he was holding me so tight against his chest, and he smelled like warm amber and something fresh like rain. It was intoxicating. He pulls me from his chest, keeping both hands on the sides of my face now as he looks me straight into my eyes. “Answer me, babe. Did you hit it hard?”

“No,” I stammer, feeling as though I’ve never learned to speak before. The way his eyes were on me, warm and full of concern, was enough to clutter my brain entirely because it was the first time I’d ever seen them light that way.

He stares at me for a moment longer, then his right hand slowly traces up my face, caressing my cheekbone and making me suck in a breath at the softness of it. His hand glides into my hair, his eyes still penetrating me as they do, and I can’t seem to look away and break the connection. His hand caressed my head exactly where I hit it, and he made a humming noise.

“There’s no bump, thankfully.”

“Oh,” I murmur because, again, I could barely speak. He hasn’t moved his hand from my hair yet, though. His eyes move to it now, following his hand as it glides through my curls. I feelthe sweep of his thumb stroke my scalp as the rest of his fingers softly grip at my strands. It takes everything in me not to groan in pleasure because it feels so good.

“Your hair,” he whispers, so low that I’m not sure he even really said it. It’s all he says, though. Nothing else, and I’m not sure what he means by it.

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