The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,81

skipped a beat and then sped up in recognition. My soul knew the feel and weight of him, the taste and scent of his skin, because it always knew even when I didn’t.

Luc.

He was holding me like I was the most cherished treasure in the universe.

I focused on each breath he took until my body seemed to naturally meet his, falling into a rhythm. His were deep and steady, but he wasn’t asleep. I knew this, because his hand moved along the center of my back, tracking up and down my spine. Each pass of his hand caused the skin along my back to hum in a pleasantly distracting way.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I took a deeper, longer one and willed my eyes to open.

Nothing happened.

I had no idea why, but I tried again with the same result. Thinking I could move another part of my body, I tested out my hands. Turned out my arms were folded against a hard stomach, so that was no go.

Should I be concerned that moving was proving to be so difficult? Probably. But other than my muscles not responding to the commands my brain was sending, I felt okay. Granted, that was a pretty big deal. Maybe I needed to start with something small.

My toes.

And holy hallelujah, I could wiggle them!

Approximately five seconds later, I almost regretted my achievement.

Pins and needles swept up my legs in a quick succession. I wanted to stop moving my toes, but I pushed through it. The rush of sensation cooled mere seconds later. Feeling confident about the progress, I flexed my foot.

Luc’s hand stopped, bunching my shirt under his grip, and his breath stilled against the top of my head. “Evie?” The way he said my name—it was full of restrained hope but sounded like it came from the other side of the room.

Were my ears still asleep?

Okay, that sounded next-level idiotic.

I managed to move my lips, mouthing his name against the skin of his throat.

Luc shifted, drawing back until an opening formed between our chests and cool air glided into the space. “Evie?” A moment later, I felt his hand leave my back to come to rest against my cheek. “Have you come back to me?”

Come back from where? I’d been sleeping and dreaming some weird dreams—dreams that felt like memories—but now I was worried. It wasn’t just the fact my eyes felt glued shut and my limbs useless, but now I remembered hearing his voice while I slept. He’d been concerned then, and now? He sounded desperate.

And Luc never sounded desperate.

I needed to wake up and figure out what the hell was going on. I hated how Luc sounded. I needed to do more than flex my stupid foot.

Luc was incredibly still for several moments, and then he shuddered. “It’s okay.” His thumb dragged over the line of my jaw, the caress a brand on my skin. “I’m here waiting for you, but, Peaches, please don’t take too much longer. I miss you.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest as I thought, I miss you, too.

His hand jerked against my cheek, and I felt him move again as if he were half sitting up. “Evie?”

Trying and failing again to respond, I was starting to drown in frustration. Why was everything so hard?

“God,” he said in a rough exhale. “I want to hear your voice so badly that I’m imagining it in my head. I’m losing my mind.”

I wanted him to know I was okay. Well, sort of okay. This whole not-waking-up thing probably spelled trouble, but I was fine. I’d just been sleeping—

Wait.

Memories were slow to form. I didn’t just fall asleep. I’d been with Grayson while waiting to hear about Kat and her—oh my God, did Kat have her baby? Was she all right? Okay. I needed to be able to wake up to find out the answer to that, so baby steps. I’d felt dizzy, and I’d seen weird rainbows around Grayson, and then I didn’t remember anything else. Obviously, I’d passed out. Since I wasn’t exactly human, I didn’t think I could get migraines or seizures.

Something happened.

So maybe I was a little comatose? Holy shit, did I have that locked-in disease I’d seen in a Netflix documentary? Oh my God, what if—

“What if you wake up and you’ve forgotten yourself all over again?” His words were just a murmur, but they knocked me out of my panicky downward spiral. “What if you’ve forgotten me again? That’s all I keep thinking about. That