Page 27 of The Immortal's Trick
“Abilities?” I repeat.
Without a word, he lifts his palm. A sudden burst of blue light shoots into the sky like a star set loose.
I gasp, watching it arc. Bright and unnatural.
And then I panic.
I drop to my knees, forehead pressed to the earth, eyes squeezed shut. I start muttering every protection prayer I know. Words to Isis. To Bast. To any god that might hear me and shield me from this being—this strange, glowing,impossibleman.
“Eshe—” Lome’s voice breaks with horror.
I hear him move, step toward me, and my body tenses.
“I would never hurt you,” he says. His hands come down on my arms and lift me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
I try to look away, to keep chanting.
A single finger brushes my jawline. I cringe, leaning away.
“Eshe,” he breathes. “Don’t you know how much you mean to me?”
The words hang in the air. Weighty. Sincere.
My eyes flutter open.
Lome’s gaze overwhelms me. Soft and shining, lit with something that shakes me to my core.
“You are everything to me,” he whispers.
And then, he kisses me.
It happens in one seamless movement. His lips are on mine. His arms wrap around me. I’m pulled tight against the shape of him, warm and solid andreal. And yet everything about this moment feelsunreal.
I don’t know how to respond. My hands tremble, but my stomach flutters. My knees weaken. A strange sound escapes my throat—a half-sigh, half-cry. Because no matter how terrified I was a moment ago, something in my heart responds to him as if it’s been waiting for this.
How?
Howdoes he make me feel likethis?
Lome pulls away, barely, just enough to look into my face. He’s panting, smiling faintly.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” he confesses in a throaty growl as his arms fall away.
I can’t breathe. My lips still tingle. My whole body shakes.
This isn’t right. I don’t even know him. He’s nothuman.
And yet?—
Something deep inside me responds to him like a prayer finally answered.
I press my fingers to my lips, dazed.
He watches me carefully. His hands hover near my arms, as if afraid to touch me again but unwilling to let me drift too far.
“What was that?” I whisper.
His expression shifts. Not smug. Not victorious. But... adoring. LikeI’mthe miracle.
