Page 142 of The Order

Chapter forty-four

Forest

Minutesturnedintohours.Every second that passed gave Fallan an opportunity to test my capabilities. Once uncoordinated and imprecise, my strikes now hit my target. He watches me with crossed arms, carefully correcting my form as needed. Each time he touches me, I wish his hand would slip beneath the material of this gear and remove the barrier of clothing between us. It's a selfish desire. Something about the way he touches me feels right, like he knows my body in ways I hardly know myself.

“I want you to try something,” Fallan says, breaking his silence before I can get another strike in.

Gently grabbing my elbow, he moves me away from the punching bag, positioning us both in the center of the room. The moonlight hits his face just right, reflecting off several small scars across his skin. He watches me with a relaxed expression.

“I want you to try and reach into my mind,” he says, standing still.

I focus on his deep blue eyes, unsure how I could look at them so often and not get lost in them.

“Reach into your mind? You're always blocking me out,” I say, watching his mouth slightly curl.

“That’s true, and you're always trying to block me out,” he says, taking a step forward. “But your wall falters each time I get close to you…. You like my eyes?” he questions, my face growing warm.

“Stay out of my head.”

“Then keep me out.” His arms become crossed once more. He stays right in front of me and waits.

“Push past the protections I have up,” he starts, running his thumb along my eyes to shut my lids. “Feel that string that runs between our minds,” he whispers, my energy focused on finding the barriers in his mind.

When I can feel the wall he has in place, I run my mental touch along its surface, finding a small crack where it’s weakest.

“Why do you keep up so many walls?”

“Maybe I’m worried you won’t like what you find.”

“I thought my opinion didn't matter. I’m nothing,” I say, throwing his words back at him.

I feel it. The crack in his barrier at my comment. Slowly, I creep through, doing my best not to focus on the warmth of his body. I find his desires and his fears all bottled up in one area of his mind. To my surprise, I see my face. My green eyes watch him as he watches me. I see the curve of my smile paint my expression as I look up at him that night at Josh’s party, our bodies a few inches apart. I see a younger version of myself that day in the medical unit, my smile as wide as it was during our dance. There’s a glimpse of my sketchbook. Its sudden absence is something he’s yet to explain to me.

“Why am I in your thoughts so often?” I question, his body drawing closer.

“You slipped past my barrier?” he questions in shock.

Opening my eyes, I see how close we are, his hand hovering above my hip. His curls dance along his face, his body towering over me in a way that makes his strength so obvious. I hear traces of his thoughts, his mind fixating on my lips, even though he’s looking directly into my eyes.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Neither did you,” he counters.

A trickle of blood works down my nostril, my mind letting go of its grasp on his. Quickly, I wipe away the small amount of blood, feeling the exertion of energy I used finally catching up to me. He raises the bottom of his shirt to help me wipe away the blood. I can't stop looking down to observe his body. All of his best features are much more noticeable in this lighting.

“My eyes are up here, Little Dove,” he says, gently tugging my chin back up to look at him.

He watches me with a kind expression, my eyes moving back down, feeling ill at the sight of nail marks working up his side. They’re a reminder that whatever is going on between us isn’t what I think it is, especially if he’s taking Valerie to his bed.

“Thanks for your help,” I whisper, gradually taking a step back.

He grabs the front of my shirt, stopping me from taking another step.

“Can I see it?” he questions, my throat going dry.

“See what?”

“Your mark,” be states, yanking up his shirt to expose his ribcage.

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