Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy, #1)

“You look flushed, Gray.” My fingers catch a strand of long hair falling over her shoulder. “Probably thanks to the blanket.” I can feel the smirk spreading across my face as I say, “Unless I’m the reason for your blush.”

I watch the emotions flit across her face. First, there is something akin to what I’m sure is reflected in my own gaze—wanting. Then she blinks, and I glimpse shock, realization, and denial before she settles with annoyance.

“No, I’m definitely just overheating.” She’s confident as ever despite the strain in her voice.

I tilt my head, eyes dancing between the blanket and her cool gaze. “Then I suppose I’ll help you once again, only this time it will be a blanket dropping to the floor and not your dress nearly doing the same.”

I smile at the thought of the last ball, but before my fingers can close around hers, she lets the blanket billow down around her ankles.

She’s standing so close to me, wearing nothing but skimpy shorts and a silky tank. Teasing me, taunting me, toying with me. I hadn’t been able to see the black fabric clinging to her body last night, blending in with the darkness around us. But now I can see it, see her, clearly.

There is a fire in her eyes, burning and breathtaking. “Just to be clear, prince, I don’t need your help—undressing or otherwise.”

“Oh, of course not. Wishful thinking, I suppose.”

She huffs out a laugh. “And are you unable to help being a shameless flirt as well?”

“Apparently not when I’m with you.”

“Oh? And what else are you when you’re around me, hmm?”

She has me swallowing, has me nervous. “I’m a fool.”

The smile she gives me is equally amused and alluring. “Only when you’re around me?”

“Only for you.”

Her eyes lock with mine as she falls silent, suddenly still. I take a small step forward only for her to take a slight step back, her legs now pressed against the edge of the bed. I swallow, hiding my frown.

Why does she pull away?

“And since I’m also somehow kinder when I’m around you, I should thank you. Again.” I don’t think I’ve ever spoken so softly, so soothingly to someone before. And what scares me even more is that I don’t think I ever will for anyone but her.

My hand is suddenly brushing her wrist and I watch it trail up her arm, the ghost of a touch traveling across her skin. Goosebumps follow the path my fingers glide, bringing a smile to my lips.

Then I’m twirling that piece of silky hair around my finger again. “Thank you, Pae. For last night.”

She shivers, and yet, her flush is still very much present. I can’t fight the smile spreading across my face as I murmur, “Despite my wanting to help, you still seem to be overheating.”

“And you still seem to be to blame for that.” She nearly snaps the words, seemingly annoyed with herself.

I tuck that strand of silver hair behind her ear with a lazy grin, letting my fingers linger. “Are you admitting to me making you flushed? Making you nervous?

“Making me annoyed?” she supplies. “Because you certainly are doing that.”

I look away, shaking my head. “Liar.”

“Was it my left foot that gave me away or did you come to that conclusion on your own?” she asks evenly.

My gaze has shifted back to her, blue and bewilderingly beautiful. Then my eyes drop to her lips, soft and pulled into a frown she seems to be fighting to keep on her face.

I step even closer. She leans in.

“I can’t take my eyes off you long enough to give a damn about what your foot is doing. So yes, I came to that conclusion on my own.”

Her gaze is burning, boring into mine, begging me to come closer.

So I do.

I can’t stay away from her.

I don’t want to stay away from her.

I’m sweeping hair out of her eyes, letting my fingers skim her skin. Simply touching her sends a shock through me, sets my heart racing. And I know she feels it too. Her eyes are flicking between mine and my mouth, lashes fluttering.

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stop myself from wanting this. Wanting her.

I shift closer, her lips part, and—

And there is something digging into my throat.

What the hell—

She has the damn shoe pressed against my neck.

“I should go.” Her words are barely more than a whisper murmured against my lips as if she is speaking to herself, reminding me of our time under the willow when she uttered those same unsure words.

I clear my throat, untangle my hands from her hair, and straighten.

What the hell just happened. And why the hell didn’t something just happen.

“Right. You’ll need plenty of time to get all dolled up for my brother tonight.” I don’t bother masking my bitterness, my jealousy, my confusion.

She wants to see me without a mask? Fine. Let her see it all. Let her see my frustration with the feelings she is to blame for.

She flinches.

The girl who has slain wolves, scaled mountains, and survived the slums just flinched. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never thought I would. The sight has my heart sinking, has me wanting to pull her into my arms and hold her there.

But instead, I find myself taking a measured step back, putting space between us. I don’t trust myself around her. Don’t trust myself not to reach out and touch her, taste her.

She opens her mouth, warring against the words she desperately wants to say. The ones I never get to hear because she clamps her jaw shut, sealing her thoughts from me. I watch her for several, slow seconds. Watch her take a deep breath before leveling me with a calm stare.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly. “For last night. No one should have to endure the terrors of their own thoughts alone. Nightmares can be our worst nemesis. I know what that’s like.”

And then she grabs my hand and drops the shoe into it before striding out of the room.





I’m contemplating getting drunk again.

The alcohol swirling in the glass gripped between my fingers is tempting, teasing me to finish it off before following it with a few more. All just so I can get through this last damn ball.

Couples have begun dancing now that the flow of women arriving has slowed significantly. It seems that this final ball will be the only hint of normalcy in this year’s Trials.

I traded Blair off to a young gentleman for a glass of wine, and I’m wondering why I hadn’t done it sooner. While contemplating whether to down the remaining contents of my drink, I look up to find a group of ladies surrounding me, all clad in varying shades of green. They are all giggles and grins while I nod and talk politely, boring myself with how bland I’m being.

I’m just about to make my exit from the conversation using a mediocre excuse when someone catches my eye.

Someone who has me stunned and staring.

Someone who is standing in a sea of black.

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