Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,68

lips. “Is Dez okay? I think I—”

“Threw him into a fountain? Yes. He’s fine.”

Zayne sighed. “Good, but where in the Hell is Roth? Layla? You shouldn’t be out here, Trin. Not alone when you’re not fully healed, and I know you’re not fully healed. I can tell. I can feel that your grace has been weakened.”

Okay, his ability to sense that was annoying, because it was true, but Zayne sounded like he was gearing up for a lecture of epic proportions, and I couldn’t even be mad. The corners of my lips curled, and it felt weird and right and wonderful all at the same time.

“And why are you smiling?” he demanded, disbelief filling his tone once more.

A shaky laugh left me. “I just never thought I’d hear you lecture me again and enjoy it.”

“Try to remember that the next time I do.”

I probably wouldn’t.

“I...” I drew in shallow breath. “When you died, I thought I would never see you again.”

Every line of his face softened. “What did I promise you? If something happened, I would find my way back to you.”

His face blurred again, and had everything to do with the tears filling them. “I still can’t believe you Fell for me.”

“The Glory was nothing compared to your love.” He leaned in, resting his forehead with the barest weight against mine. His breath coasted over my lips as he tucked strands of hair that had escaped my braid back from my face. “I did everything that I could. You did everything that you could. I love you, Trinity, and not even death can break that kind of bond.”

The bond.

I pulled back a little. “I don’t feel you,” I said, and his brows lowered. “I mean, I haven’t felt the Protector bond. I haven’t felt the little, fuzzy ball of warmth in my chest since you came back.”

“Little, fuzzy ball of warmth?” he repeated quietly.

“And I... I haven’t felt any of your emotions.” It wasn’t like I was just realizing that. There just hadn’t been any time to really think about it. “We’re not bonded anymore.”

“No, we’re not.”

I stared at him, at the unearthly glow of light behind his pupils. “That’s good news. I can’t weaken you again and we can be together.”

“Me being your Protector hadn’t really stopped us from being together in the first place,” he replied dryly, and he was sort of right. It had only delayed the inevitable, but it hadn’t been wise. He’d become virtually human. “But there are no rules. Definitely none of the angelic variety. I’m still a... I’m still a Fallen. Just not...”

“Psychotic?”

“Yeah, just not that.” He ran the length of my braid through his hand. “Is a Trueborn going to want a Fallen?”

“I always want you, no matter what you are,” I said earnestly, and his answering smile filled my chest with a sweet, sweeping motion. “But I do kind of miss that little, fuzzy ball of—”

Zayne reclaimed the distance between us, and in one stuttered heartbeat, his lips met mine. He kissed me, and it never ceased to amaze me, the riot of sensations that one single touch could drum up. The taste of him on my lips, on my tongue, was a balm for all the rough, ragged patches scarring my soul, and an awakening. The press of his mouth to mine was gentle, but there was an edge to it, a restraint that was so close to breaking. I knew he was trying to be careful even though he hadn’t thought to be that way in the pool, but that hadn’t been just him. This was only Zayne. I didn’t want him to be restrained. I wanted him, all he had to offer—

Zayne pulled back suddenly, stiffening at the same second an explosion of tingles erupted along the nape of my neck. I stared at him, still a little dazed from his kiss. “You...you feel it, don’t you?”

His gaze moved beyond me. “A demon is near.”

I opened my mouth, and out of all the stuff I could’ve said, the stupidest thing spilled out of my mouth. “Demons don’t come to the park because of the zoo. Roth said so.”

“Roth doesn’t know everything.” Zayne rose swiftly, bringing me with him. He gently sat me on my feet behind him. I blinked, wondering how he’d managed that maneuver and sort of jealous that he’d been able to when he said, “Stay put.”

I turned around. “But—”

“You’re hurt. I’m not.”

“I’m not hurt. I’m the Trueborn—oh God,” I groaned, nose scrunching as the

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