A flash of light and heat arced out in jagged white light from the ground. It threw Lena off her feet, over the bench and to the ground.
He stared, slack-jawed for a bare second. In two long steps he crossed the clearing and hopped onto the bench looking down at her.
She wheezed in an attempt to reclaim her breath.
He jumped down to her side, hands moving over her head and neck, and then down her sides, to be sure she was otherwise okay. She projected such a huge persona he was shocked at how fragile she felt under his hands.
She batted at him weakly.
Once he’d reassured himself she wasn’t broken, he wrapped his hands around each of her thighs and pulled up her legs to inspect her feet.
The indignity of it helped her find her voice. “Get off of me!”
“Lay still! I could have hurt you!” He barked the words, guilt and dismay making his voice harsh.
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. Her voice came as a weak thread of air. She sounded breathless, small. She pushed his hands away, and then pushed at him as she sat up. He crouched at her side, refusing to give way. His heart still pounded.
With a faint grunt of disgust, she scooted herself back from him. She brushed the worst of the gravel and dirt from her hair with her fingertips. When she finally looked up at him, she seemed to freeze for a moment at whatever she saw in his face. “Reyes. Alex. I’m fine.”
He propped one elbow on his knee in front of him and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes closed then opened on a gust of air. “Dust, Lena. I could have hurt you.”
“Yeah.” She agreed. “You could have.” Her voice changed, and he could hear the sly grin under her words. “You really could have.”
The mischief on her face was contagious.
“I did it.”
“You did something.” She wiggled a bit and then made a move to rise.
He jumped to his feet to help. His pull and her slight weight made her sail up into his side. He wrapped his arm around her to steady her.
She grinned up at him, mouth opened to make another wise-ass remark, no doubt.
He focused on her mouth just a beat too long.
She closed it, biting her lower lip. That wasn’t a great help.
She stared back up at him, her eyes wide and her body very still. Before Alex had a chance to process the movement or talk himself down, his body shifted, turning to fully face her. He slid his other hand up to cup the back of her head, lifting her face as he lowered his.
Just a taste. One taste. I have to know.
The first contact of their lips was softer and more tentative than he intended, but the heat of it flashed down through his body. He pressed deeper, pulling her to him as he sampled. The heat responded, a spark spiraling up, rising through him and into her through the gentle contact of lips and tongue.
When it flashed back to him from her, the spark had grown. It slammed into him with the force and heat and intensity of a grounding, electricity arcing between them where they were in contact. It danced along his skin. Alex existed at that ecstatic line between pleasure and pain. His brain—always weighing, balancing, five steps ahead—simply stopped.
He was sensation. Electric heat chased electric heat, moving over them and flaring within them as their Dust wound together.
The sound of his breath stuttering out slammed him back to reality.
What the fuck are you doing?! His brain re-engaged.
He tore his mouth from hers, jumping guiltily away and lifting his hands up. The last flares of their shared power crackled against his lips. He could see the same blue-white flares popping across hers.
She didn’t move. She was still, frozen, mouth still slightly open.
He was pretty sure he wore the same look, if thunderstruck stupefaction could be described as a “look.”
He sucked in a breath, then cleared his throat. The noise seemed to snap her out of her trance.
You put her in a trance. He wasn’t sure if his inner voice was outraged or smug.
Lena backed away, ducking her head and shoving her hair back behind her ears. It was her nervous tell. In a moment, her hair would slip back out, falling around her face again. He could feel his lips curl up in a smile.
No. Down, boy.
She laughed, a nervous sound. She turned away to move back around the bench, hands tucking her hair behind her ears again. She inspected the charred, scattered blast area where her feet had been, scuffing it with one boot.
“Damn, Alex.” Her voice was husky. She cleared her throat, too. “At least I held back when I hit you.” She rubbed her tail bone, underscoring that she meant his successful attack and not the insane heat of the moment before.
His brain sent her a silent, steady stream of gratitude for not making a thing out of the ill-conceived kiss.
You’re a moron, Alejandro Reyes.