Brooke (Under the Never Sky, #2.5)(8)

“You can believe it?”

He lifts his shoulders. “Sure.”

“No, you can’t.”

Hyde laughs. “I really can. Isn’t that what magic is? Something you see when you shouldn’t?”

“If that’s your definition of magic, then it’s everywhere.” I wave at the sky, which shouldn’t be the way it is either. “Even up there.”

Hyde looks up, his expression turning pensive as he considers the Aether.

“You’re kidding, right?” I say, watching him. “You can’t really think there’s magic in the Aether?” I just see destruction.

“What if it’s not what you see, but how you see it? What if the magic is in your perspective?” He gestures to the plateau that spreads in front of us. “What if real magic is about having the right outlook? The right view on life?”

I feel like he’s just become someone different before my eyes. Someone poetic. Someone intriguing. All I can do is stare at him.

After a moment, he looks away.

“Why did you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Turn away from me.”

“I was regretting what I said.”

“Why?” What he just said was beautiful. I can’t believe he regrets it. “What do you have to lose if you say what you want to say?”

Hyde is suddenly fascinated with pulling a bit of leather from the frame of his quiver.

“Hyde?” I prompt.

“I don’t know how to act around you sometimes,” he says, winding the leather around his finger.

“Sometimes?”

“Alone,” he says. “When we’re alone.”

“I intimidate you?”

He lifts his head. “Completely.” His eyes hold steady on my face. “I don’t want to ruin my chance to know you, Brooke. That’s why. I don’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong things.”

My stomach does a somersault.

Up until this second everything felt normal. We were just two sentries, passing the time with conversation. But now he is no longer just Hyde. He is Hyde, who says he wants to know me, which feels so much more profound than to get to know me. Hyde, who asks me how I’m doing without Liv and talks about magic like it’s in your eyes, not in the world.

I search for it now. I search for magic in his blue eyes.

I don’t see it, but what I do see is just as surprising.

There is hope in Hyde’s eyes, and it’s real and honest and so different from the physical hunger I’m accustomed to seeing in the gazes of men.

I lick my lips, choosing my next words with care. “You do know me, Hyde.”

I am blatantly fishing for more.

No. I’m not fishing. He is on the line, and I’m reeling him in.

“True.” Hyde blinks, his smile wobbling. “I meant know you better.”

It’s the exact answer I expected. Exactly what I wanted to hear.

“You haven’t lost your chance.” I lean closer to him. “How can you lose a chance if you haven’t even taken it?”

He holds perfectly still for a long moment. Then he inclines his head a little to the side, bringing his face closer to mine. His blue eyes drop to my mouth. We’re close enough that I can see every fine hair on his jaw. This is my chance to retreat, but I don’t.

A delicious spell has fallen over me. I want this. And I’m moving on. This is what it means to move on.

I feel Hyde’s hand cradle the back of my head, but I need no encouragement to draw closer.

Our lips meet and hold, both of us stiff with awkwardness for an instant. Then Hyde’s lips part and his tongue slides, velvet soft, against mine.

Desire seeps through my limbs like warm honey as we find our way, shifting closer.

He is patient and gentle at first, but then he becomes playful. He nibbles at my bottom lip, and I can tell he’s smiling. He’s a happy kisser. A girl could fall in love with that, I think.

Heat curls in my veins, and I reach for him, wanting more.

His shoulders feel different, not quite rounded enough with muscle, but I ignore that.

His hand is on my back, the pressure too light. I ignore that too.

I focus on the movement of his mouth over mine, which is full of affection and care. He kisses like a poet. Like he’s writing poems on my lips.

But it lacks something. A confidence. A ferocity I’m familiar with.

Ignore, Brooke.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

It’s too late. I realize I’m getting in my head too much, because I hear the leaves rustle with a breeze. Hyde senses my hesitation, and his hand stills on my cheek. I feel the softest tremble of his fingers on my skin. I don’t want it to tremble. I am past tremble.

Perry knew I liked him to take control. He knew what I wanted. By now he would have—

I suck in a breath, feeling like an arrow has sliced right through my heart.

I jerk back. Hyde’s eyes fly open. We both freeze for an endless instant. Then I jump to my feet.

My legs shake beneath me as shame and lust play tug-of-war in my body. How could I think about Perry just then? What is wrong with me?

Hyde scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Brooke. Was that too much?”

I’m so confused. I don’t know what just happened. No. I do know. Kissing Hyde wasn’t too much. It wasn’t too little, either. It just wasn’t kissing Perry.