I freeze and tilt my head back towards him.
“I wanted to stop it,” he starts. The regret in his voice pulls me towards him, and I lean my back against the door so I can watch him. “That pain I saw on your face. I tried. But the Maker kept me—bound me—from reaching you.”
The charge in the air suddenly feels fragile, as if it’s waiting with anticipation as much as I am for the rest of the story.
Ten looks down at my free hand and steps closer.
It’s impossible to keep my eyes from following as he reaches out towards it, the softest of touches brushing against the curve of my hand, the electricity pulsing from just that alone. He doesn’t stop. His thumb sweeps over my skin, and then my hand is engulfed by his.
No pain.
But a rush of current, hot and deep, races up my arm, skittering to my chest.
Building.
Our eyes flick to each other, and the familiar contentment I feel is like a magnet, locking my gaze to his—locking every part of my body to his.
His deep breath and the set of his jaw, the only answer to that touch.
But my eyes are traitors and dip to his lips. A habit, if it’s not too soon to call it that, and he hasn’t told me to stop.
I want to kiss him—to taste him.
The thought is in my mind and blankets everything else. But is it allowed? If touch is limited, then being physically intimate…
Ten coughs and drops my hand, stepping back in haste. He turns, angling himself away as he ruffles his hair with his hand.
A flash of warmth blossoms over my neck and my cheeks, and I pull my arms against my chest.
“Ahh, so, Guards, we… ah, feel more, and sense emotions. Our minds are our greatest strength, according to Kamari, at least.”
My eyes flare, and my breath catches as he steps back in front of me, that smirk now full of mischief. “You heard my mother’s thoughts. You made me hear her, too. At least, that’s my theory. And you just…” he drops his eyes to my lips.
Back to my eyes.
Lips.
I pull the bottom one behind my teeth as I desperately hold his gaze.
Intense. The burning of my cheeks, now ablaze as I feel my body come alive under his scrutiny.
One second. Two. Three.
He leans in, his lips now a whisper away from my ear. “We,” he pauses, “can kiss. We can be very physical. And certainly intimate.”
I swallow, my mouth going dry at his words.
Mortification tickles me as I remember reading about a Guard’s gift, and I close my eyes as I’m flooded with embarrassment, but something else as well.
He heard my thoughts.
Or I spoke it to him.
Lyle heard me, too. I willed it. So, is that my gift? Or is it Ten’s, as a Guard? It wasn’t always clear what the person could do when reading about Guards.
My gut swarms with butterflies, telling me to storm into my room, barricade the door and hide my embarrassment. But I can’t move.
I don’t want to move.
