Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
That surprised a laugh out of me. “Hannah doesn’t usually warm up to people so quickly. She must like you.”
“I like her, too. She said she thought I was tired because I had to be tough.” Lavender’s voice dropped lower. “She’s not wrong. She said she hoped everyone here could help me and Brynn rest up for the coming battle.” She looked up at me, tears swimming in her eyes. “The people here are the only people I’ve ever met who gave a damn about us resting up for the fight. It kind of feels like we’ve both been in a fight for our lives since this all began months ago.”
I itched to touch her, to bridge the physical gap between us that felt like a chasm. The need felt physical and before I could stop myself, I took a risk and reached for her hand, just a brush of my fingers against hers on the railing.
To my surprise, she didn’t pull away. Instead, her pinky finger hooked around mine, the smallest point of connection that felt more significant than anything I could remember.
“I don’t deserve a chance in your lives,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for it anyway. I missed everything because of my own stupidity. More importantly, my absence hurt Brynn. And you.”
Lavender turned to face me then, her profile illuminated by the compound lights below. The shadows softened the new lines around her eyes, making her look more like the girl I remembered, but the strength in her face was all woman -- forged through years of solitary struggle.
“You’re here now,” she said simply. “That’s what matters.”
A breeze lifted a strand of her hair, and before I could think better of it, I reached up to tuck it behind her ear. My hand lingered, fingertips grazing her cheek. She leaned into the touch, almost imperceptibly, but enough to make my heart stutter in my chest.
“Lavender,” I whispered, her name a prayer on my lips. “I’ve never stopped --”
“Don’t,” she cut me off gently. “We can’t go back, Knight. Too much has changed.”
“I know,” I agreed, my hand falling away. “I’m not asking for that. I’m asking for now. For a chance to be whatever you and Brynn need me to be.”
She studied my face in the dim light, her eyes tracing the tattoos that had transformed me, lingering on the black ink that filled the sclera of my eyes. I had to look freaky to her, but she hadn’t said a single Goddamned thing about how radically my appearance had changed. “And what if what we need isn’t what you want to give?”
“Try me,” I challenged softly.
She rose from her leaning position against the railing, turning to face me fully. Standing this close, I could smell the shampoo in her hair, mixed with something uniquely her. We were inches apart now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body.
“You hurt me,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Worse than I thought possible or really even realized until the moment I knew exactly how sick Brynn had gotten. What she’d be facing in the near future.”
“I know.” I didn’t try to defend myself. Couldn’t.
“I should be smarter than to let you close again.”
“If I were you, I’d tell myself that same fuckin’ thing,” I agreed, my hand finding hers again, our fingers interlacing this time.
Her eyes locked with mine, searching for something. Whatever she saw there made her take a small step forward, eliminating the last of the space between us. “But I’ve never been very smart where you’re concerned.”
I felt her words against my lips more than heard them. Then, with a slowness that was both torture and blessing, I pulled her into my arms. When she didn’t resist, I lowered my mouth to hers, tentatively at first, giving her every chance to push me away.
She didn’t. Instead, her lips parted under mine, and eleven years of separation crumbled to dust. The kiss deepened, her hands sliding up my chest to my shoulders, my arms tightening around her waist. She tasted like mint toothpaste and unshed tears. I kissed her like a drowning man finding air, pouring every apology, every regret, every promise I couldn’t voice into the pressure of my lips against hers. I didn’t devour her so much as worship her in the only way I knew how. And, Goddammit, I knew no amount of apologizing could ever make up for what I’d taken from her.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I’ve dreamed about that for eleven years,” I admitted, voice ragged with emotion.
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through both of us. “Even with all these?” She traced a finger along one of the tattoos climbing my neck. “Looks like you made yourself into a new person.”