The Healer's Hellion - Miranda Bridges Page 0,34
his gaze. “That has never been a question.”
“Promises, promises.”
The sound of something snapping has me backing up, my head swiveling back and forth to locate the cause. The vines around Braxton disintegrate before my very eyes, and then he casually steps from his flight suit and away from the tree. I take another step in retreat, unsure of the male stalking toward me.
“You think your power is stronger than my own?” he asks. “I am one of the most powerful Dravians alive to possess the gift, and you will discover that today.”
He raises his hands, and I flinch, unsure of what’s to come. The vines snake through the tree branches as if living entities, then crawl down the trunks only to meet in the air above us. They gather in an undulating mass, weaving through one another until they’re hanging in a cluster just above my head. I stare up at the creation, not understanding what I’m looking at.
Braxton lowers his arms, yet the vines still hover. The incredible display of power has my knees week but not more than the unhinged look in his gaze.
“Come here.”
I clench my fists and take a tentative step to him. As I do, it occurs to me that Braxton let me have my way with him, since his gift is clearly stronger mine. I’m not sure if it was to give me a sense of security and control, but I highly suspect that is the reason. Any fear or uncertainty I had disappears in that moment. He is always doing what is best for me, even when I don’t know it.
Without waiting, I unzip my flight suit, step out of it, and send it soaring to lie in a heap on top of his. With my arms pressed to my sides, I wait. For what, I don’t know.
Braxton roves his gaze over me, as though inspecting me, but I catch the lust in it, which makes his onyx eyes practically glitter. He walks around me, and although he never touches me, it’s as if he does with his energy and intent.
However, at my gasp, he snatches me to him, his arms wrapping around me.
“What happened to your back?” I ask, my words muffled by his skin.
He pulls back to look at me, his lips thinning. “Is that was has you upset?”
“More than upset. I’m horrified.”
He exhales. “I assumed the sight of it would deter you, so I should not be surprised by this reaction.”
“What are you talking about? And how did you get those?” I ask, my voice turning shrill as the images of the white crisscrosses scattered along the expanse of his back bombard my mind. There is more scarring than unblemished skin. It makes me want to vomit from the amount of pain he must’ve experienced.
His brows gather. “It would seem logical that you would be sickened by the sight of my marred skin. I can only assume your desire for me has dwindled because of it.”
I purse my lips even though I want to cry. “That is not logical whatsoever. Actually, for an intelligent person, that is such a stupid thing to say.”
He quirks a brow at me, but that doesn’t stop my tirade. I can’t believe he thinks I am that shallow.
“I am upset at the sight of your scars because it pains me to see them, not disgusts me. My heart breaks at the idea of how much you suffered and that you think me caring for you is based on such superficial things.” I wiggle against him to free my hands and bring them to cup his face. “Who hurt you?”
The poeticism of the moment is not lost on me. First it was Braxton who wanted to champion me because of my suffering, and now the roles are reversed. The rage I feel at seeing his old wounds has my power thrumming through me so fiercely that my hair floats about my shoulders.
“My father, but he is now long dead,” Braxton answers.
I huff, genuinely frustrated. “Well, I guess neither one of us gets to murder anyone. Pity.”
“I would not want you to have that stain on your soul.”
“Why did he do that?” I ask.
“It was his way of controlling me. Every time I used my gift, I would incur punishment. My father did not have the gift, and his jealousy overruled him. However, it’s because of this that I maintain control over not just my power but my actions as well.”
I get on my tiptoes and press