The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,105

chest was so distracting.”

“Man chest?”

“It’s just skin and nipples, Peaches. Don’t make it awkward.”

I stared at him.

He grinned.

“Don’t be cute.”

I can’t help it. I’m adorable.

A sharp whooshing motion tumbled my stomach. All morning, Luc had been shifting back and forth from talking out loud and through the Source, a different form of training from the kind we were arguing about.

I focused on him, imagining a cord connecting us. You’re annoying.

He feigned a scowl. I’m rubber, and you’re glue. What you say bounces off me and sticks to you.

“Oh my God.” I laughed. “How old are you? Five?”

Luc nodded. “I’m a big boy now.”

“Seriously. Stop being cute. I’m irritated.”

“I can’t help who I am.” Luc didn’t just walk toward me. He swaggered. “I know you’re ready to get back to training, and I know I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“You’re definitely being paranoid.”

“I am.”

I concentrated on the cord between us. But I do understand why you’re paranoid. I would be, too, if it had been you who had passed out for four days.

His gaze flickered over my face. “I’m glad you understand.” He switched over to the more private way. It’s not that I’m trying to control what you do or that I don’t think you’re capable of getting back to training. I just worry. A lot.

“I know.”

He brushed back a wisp of hair that had escaped one of the many bobby pins already. I know you didn’t sleep much last night.

Luc had been awake when I’d returned, probably mere seconds away from launching a search and possible rescue, but all he’d remarked on when I climbed back into bed was how cold my toes were. He’d gathered me close, tucking me against his chest, and promptly fallen back to sleep.

I slept enough, I told him and then switched to the form I was more comfortable with. “The only thing I do feel is a little restless, but nothing like before. Remember how Grayson said he could feel the Source, like an internal buzzing? That’s how it feels. Maybe it’s something I just need to get used to.”

He tucked away another fine strand of hair. “Probably. I know it takes a while for hybrids. Just promise me that if you start to feel weird or dizzy or anything, you’ll let me know immediately.”

“I promise.”

Running his fingers along my jaw, he tilted my head back. “I feel like I should apologize.”

“For what?”

“I woke you up this morning.”

I frowned. “You did?”

He nodded. “When I woke up, you were still sleeping and you were so still against me, I had this moment of panic, thinking you weren’t going to wake up again. So, I just about shouted your name. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up screaming.”

“Luc.” My heart squeezed. “You don’t have to apologize. I would’ve done the same.”

“Remember you said this after a year or so of me shouting your name in panic in the mornings.”

“I’ll remember.”

Lowering his head, he kissed me, and each kiss since yesterday felt different—sweeter and heavier with promises. I stepped into him, gripping the front of his shirt. The sound rumbling from deep within him sent a shiver curling its way down my spine.

Evie. Luc smiled against my lips. “If we don’t leave now, we’re not going to be leaving for quite some time.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” I said, eyes still closed. “Does it?”

“No.” He slid his hand over my hip. “It sounds like all the best dreams coming true.”

My nose brushed his as I tilted my head. “But…?”

“But we’re going to be mature and responsible,” he said with a sigh so disgusted, it drew a grin from me. “You want to get your abilities in tip-top shape. Prioritize, Peaches.”

“You kissed me.”

“Your lips were begging mine.”

Laughing, I opened my eyes and pulled away. “Come on.”

He caught my hand in his, and we walked out the front door into the bright, sunny November morning. The skies were such a clear blue, and the clouds fluffy and low. I yearned to capture it on camera. As we made our way down the driveway, I fantasized about replacing all the angel paintings with photographs of the sky, some in color and others in black and white. Alas, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Want to race?” I asked at the end of the driveway. We were going to the same place as before, the old packing warehouse.

“I thought we’d make a pit stop first. Unlike you, I haven’t gotten the chance to really check out the newest addition to