The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,27

heated fingers slid over my belly, past my navel, and then halted. He waited.

Luc, still in there, still in control, waited for me.

I nodded as I whispered, “Yes.”

He shuddered against me, and then there was nothing but raw, stunning tension as his hand drifted lower with unerring accuracy.

In those moments, we drove both of us to the point where neither of us were capable of coherent words. When he finally, really touched me, I lost all sense of time. I moved against his palm. He moved against me, both of us seeking, chasing after the explosion, and when it came, his hoarse shout joined my own sharp cry.

And it was then, when fine tremors rolled through me in waves that were mirrored in Luc, I realized that what had started out being about Luc had ended being about both of us. I didn’t think until our breathing and hearts slowed that either of us realized how badly we needed the reminder that memories and the past, even the parts not remembered, didn’t define us.

We wouldn’t let it.

Ever.

5

Sometime later, a few hours shy of dawn, Luc no longer looked like the Human Torch. It had to have happened while I’d dozed, because when I opened my eyes, there was no glow, only shadows.

Luc had gotten an arm underneath my head, and I was currently using his biceps as a pillow. He was still curled around me, his chest warm against my back, but nowhere near as hot as it had been hours earlier.

“Your arm must be dead,” I murmured.

He was tracing idle shapes along my waist. “My arm has never been better.”

At the sound of his voice, I let out a tiny breath of relief. “You sound normal.”

“You mean when I’m only a little scary?”

I cringed. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His finger moved, and I thought he was drawing a figure eight.

Tilting my head to the side, I tried to see his face in the darkness, but all I saw was his neck. “You know I’m not afraid of you, right? Not even when you were looking a lot like a Luxen on steroids.”

“I know.” He shifted slightly, and his lips touched the tip of my nose.

“I mean, I was a little freaked out. You kind of reminded me of a robot. A horny robot, which are two words I never thought I’d say in my entire life, but you were … different,” I rambled on. “And I’d be shocked if I don’t end up with sunburn in some very uncomfortable places.”

“Horny robot?” Luc laughed, his lips briefly touching mine. He settled back, his finger moving again. “I don’t think you have to worry about any uncomfortable burns in unmentionable places.”

“Good to know.” I rubbed my cheek against his arm. “I’m glad you’re not glowing anymore.”

He didn’t respond, instead drawing on my hip what felt like a … pair of lips?

Finding his other hand, I curled my fingers through his and squeezed. “I know I said thank you already, but—”

“You didn’t need to thank me the first time, and you sure as hell don’t need to thank me again. I would do anything to keep you safe, Peaches. It’s just the way it is.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have to thank you,” I told him. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve, well, you know what would’ve happened. I just couldn’t calm down. I tried. I really did.” I stared at the shadows across the bed. “I just couldn’t pull myself out of it.”

“It’s good news, though.”

My brows lifted. “How do you figure that?”

“Because now we know that the Source doesn’t just respond to you feeling threatened. Extreme emotion can bring it out.”

“And again, how is that good news?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t have to make you feel threatened by me,” he replied, tone dry.

“Oh. Yeah. Good point there.”

“And I think…” He exhaled heavily. “I think working with it being emotion based gives us a better chance of pulling it out and controlling it.”

I did a real bang-up job at controlling it.

“The Source seems to be reacting like a defensive mechanism in you, triggered if you’re threatened or under extreme duress, and that makes sense. Like I said before, young Luxen or Origins have the same lack of control, but the thing is, you should be able to tap into it at least, use it when you want to. That’s the part I don’t get.”

Maybe I was defective.

“You’re not defective,” he said quietly. “And don’t yell at