Imagine Me (Shatter Me #6) - Tahereh Mafi Page 0,26
head, the other grasps at my waist. A flash of heat roars up my spine, reaches into my skull. His lips are at my ear whispering, whispering
Come back to life, love
I’ll be here when you wake up
My eyes fly open.
The heat is merciless. Confusing. Consuming. It calms me, settles my raging heart. His hands move along my body, light touches along my arms, the sides of my torso. I claw my way back to him by memory, my shaking hands tracing the familiar shape of his back, my cheek still pressed against the familiar beat of his heart. The scent of him, so familiar, so familiar, and then I look up—
His eyes, something about his eyes
Please, he says, please don’t shoot me for this
The room comes into focus by degrees, my head settling onto my neck, my skin settling onto my bones, my eyes staring into the very desperately green eyes that seem to know too much, too well. Aaron Warner Anderson is bent over me, his worried eyes inspecting me, his hand caught in the air like he might’ve been about to touch me.
He jerks back.
He stares, unblinking, chest rising and falling.
“Good morning,” I assume. I’m unsure of my voice, of the hour and this day, of these words leaving my lips and this body that contains me.
His smile looks like it hurts.
“Something’s wrong,” he whispers. He touches my cheek. Soft, so soft, like he’s not sure if I’m real, like he’s afraid if he gets too close I’ll just oh, look she’s gone, she’s just disappeared. His four fingers graze the side of my face, slowly, so slowly before they slip behind my head, caught in that in-between spot just above my neck. His thumb brushes the apple of my cheek.
My heart implodes.
He keeps looking at me, looking into my eyes for help, for guidance, for some sign of a protest like he’s so sure I’m going to start screaming or crying or running away but I won’t. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to because I don’t want to. I want to stay here. Right here. I want to be paralyzed by this moment.
He moves closer, just an inch. His free hand reaches up to cup the other side of my face.
He’s holding me like I’m made of feathers. Like I’m a bird. White with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head.
I will fly.
A soft, shuddering breath leaves his body.
“Something’s wrong,” he says again, but distantly, like he might be talking to someone else. “Her energy is different. Tainted.”
The sound of his voice coils through me, spirals around my spine. I feel myself straighten even as I feel strange, jet-lagged, like I’ve traveled through time. I pull myself into a seated position and Warner shifts to accommodate me. I’m tired and weak from hunger, but other than a few general aches, I seem to be fine. I’m alive. I’m breathing and blinking and feeling human and I know exactly why.
I meet his eyes. “You saved my life.”
He tilts his head at me.
He’s still studying me, his gaze so intense I flush, confused, and turn away. The moment I do, I nearly jump out of my skin. Castle and Kenji and Winston and Brendan and a ton of other people I don’t recognize are all staring at me, at Warner’s hands on me, and I’m suddenly so mortified I don’t even know what to do with myself.
“Hey, princess.” Kenji waves. “You okay?”
I try to stand and Warner tries to help me and the moment his skin brushes mine another sudden, destabilizing bolt of feeling runs me over. I stumble, sideways, into his arms and he pulls me in, his heat setting fire to my body all over again. I’m trembling, heart pounding, nervous pleasure pulsing through me.
I don’t understand.
I’m overcome by a sudden, inexplicable need to touch him, to press my skin against his skin until the friction sets fire to us both. Because there’s something about him—there’s always been something about him that’s intrigued me and I don’t understand it. I pull away, startled by the intensity of my own thoughts, but his fingers catch me under the chin. He tilts my face toward him.
I look up.
His eyes are such a strange shade of green: bright, crystal clear, piercing in the most alarming way. His hair is thick, the richest slice of gold. Everything about him is meticulous. Pristine. His breath is cool and fresh. I can feel it on my face.