Storm and Fury (The Harbinger 1)

Unable to catch myself, I landed across his lean body. I recovered quickly, clasping my hand around his throat as I straddled him. “If I had my blades, you’d be dead right now.”

He lowered his chin, and then his gaze lifted to mine. Those pale eyes weren’t so frosty now. They were full of fire, and I got a little hung up, staring into them. The pupils had started to stretch vertically, a sure sign he was close to shifting.

“I win.”

“Not quite,” he said.

I blinked. “I won. There’s no way—”

My words ended in a squeal as he rocked up, folded his legs over my waist and flipped me onto my back with a roll of his hips. Within a heartbeat, he had me pinned underneath him.

“You won?” He grinned down at me.

I tried to kick out with my legs, but the iron strength of his thighs pinned them to the floor. When I lifted my upper body to throw him off balance, he quickly forced me back with pure, brute strength, catching and trapping my wrists on the mat above my head.

“Speed and intelligence will get you far,” he said, lowering his head so close to mine that the edges of his hair brushed my cheek. “But speed, intelligence and strength always wins in the end.”

Not ready to admit defeat, I threw my head back as I managed to wiggle one leg out from underneath him. I was ready to plant my foot somewhere sensitive, but getting my leg free caused something entirely unexpected to happen. His body shifted and settled between my legs, lining our bodies up in a very interesting place. His lean torso and legs pressed against mine in a way that made me think of other things—things that didn’t involve fighting, but did include less clothing.

With his face inches from mine, our eyes met. I stopped moving. I might’ve stopped breathing.

There was a swift change in the atmosphere around us, a sudden charge of heady tension as a wild rush of desire swirled through me, clawing to break free. It reminded me of my grace when it lit up my veins, burning through skin and tissue.

Breathing became difficult as we continued to stare at one another. Zayne didn’t move off me, and I thought he would’ve by now, but he was still above me, those pupils continuing to stretch. His full lips parted.

I...I wanted him.

I’d never really felt desire before, but it was burning me up from the inside. Want. Need. This was what had been missing when I’d kissed someone before. This was what yearning really felt like, and as I lifted my head off the mat, bringing our mouths so close that I could taste his breath on my lips, I thought I might drown in it. Zayne didn’t pull away. Instead, it seemed as if he became even more still.

I kissed him.

It wasn’t much of a kiss at first, just a brushing of my lips against his, and when he didn’t move, I pressed harder, feeling a shivery rush at the touch of our mouths all the way to the tips of my toes. I touched his lips with the tip of my tongue, licking him.

His hands tightened around my wrists and then loosened. A stuttered heartbeat later, his hands moved, sliding down my arms, the rough calluses along his palms causing my breath to catch.

And then I wasn’t the only one doing the kissing.

Zayne pressed down, his warm lips moving against mine for the briefest, hottest second, and then he was gone.

Zayne tore himself away from me, crouching on the balls of his feet, breathing heavy as his skin darkened, hardened. I couldn’t see his eyes any longer, but I knew the pupils of his eyes were vertical.

He was beginning to shift, and I...

Sitting up, I scooted back as I dragged in deep breaths. What had I just done? I’d kissed him. Well, actually, I sort of licked him, and he was staring at me like I’d done just that.

Holy crap.

My entire body felt like it turned beet red as I sprang to my feet, unsteady and dizzy. “I’m sorry,” I said, backing up. “I...I didn’t mean to do that.”

He rose slowly, watching me like I was a wild animal capable of pouncing on him at any given second.

“I really am sorry—” I spun around, and to my horror, I saw Misha standing in the doorway, one hand holding open the door.

I darted across the mats to the door without looking back, not even once as I slipped past Misha and into the much cooler hallway.

Holy crap, I kissed Zayne.

I kissed him, and he’d launched himself off me like a rocket was secured to his waist.

“Trinity,” Misha called out to me.

I kept walking fast, hands opening and closing at my sides. What had I been thinking?

Misha caught up to me. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” I said, drawing in a shaky breath. “Absolutely nothing.”

14

“You...you kissed him?” Jada asked, her voice muffled from the other side of the bathroom door. “When I left you guys yesterday, I figured you two would just, I don’t know, continue to argue-flirt. You’ve exceeded my expectations yet again.”

Standing in front of the mirror, I tried to tug the bodice of the borrowed dress up, but the moment I let go, it slipped down, giving me cleavage for days and then some.

I sighed, giving up. The white dress was also a little snug in the hips, but it was the perfect length and fit everyplace else. It was going to have to do since Jada was threatening to drag me to the final ceremony no matter what I wore.

Reaching behind me, I scooped up my hair and brought the thick strands over my bare shoulders. Not bad. That hid the fact that my arm was nearly healed, which was suspicious as all Hell, plus the hair kind of covered up the chest area.

Kind of.

“Trinity?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, probably smudging the mascara I’d stolen from Jada’s room. A huge part of me wished I hadn’t said anything to Jada, but I’d had to tell someone.

I’d have self-imploded if I hadn’t told her.

“I kissed him,” I said, opening my eyes and reaching for a tube of peach-colored lipstick.

“And did he kiss you back?” she asked.

“I...don’t know.” I slid off the cap.

There was a pause. “How do you not know that, Trin?”

“Well, at first, I thought he did, but now, the more I think about it, I’m not sure.” I smoothed the lipstick on and pressed my lips together. “I mean, it was a quick kiss.” Entirely too brief, but I could still remember the feel of his mouth against mine. “And he sort of launched himself off me.”

There was a long quiet moment. “Did he say anything?”

“No.” I sighed again, feeling confused and ashamed and angry, which really wasn’t a good combination.

I hadn’t seen Zayne since yesterday afternoon. The blades and the sunglasses I’d left in the training room had magically appeared this morning on the kitchen island. Either Zayne had returned them or Misha had retrieved them.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jada said finally.

“Yeah, me, neither.” I opened the bathroom door. “How do I look?”

“Amazing.” Jada was the one who looked stunning in a white Grecian gown with a golden ribbon tied around her slim waist. “Good enough to actually kiss you back.”

I blinked slowly at her.

“Can you guys stop talking about kissing?”

Gasping, I sidestepped Jada and saw Misha sitting on the edge of my bed, dressed in black linen pants and a matching sleeveless tunic-style shirt. “How long have you been in here?”

“Long enough to know why you ran out of the training room with your face on fire.”

“I hate you,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“You might not want to do that,” Jada advised, eyeing my chest. “You’ll burst a seam or two.”

Rolling my eyes, I unfolded my arms. “I hate both of you.”

“We’re not the one running around randomly kissing guys,” Misha remarked.

“I’m not, either!”

“Look, this is not the same thing as with Clay,” Jada said, defendeding me. “She didn’t kick Zayne through a window afterward.”

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut. “Well, I kind of kicked him several times before the kiss.”

Misha’s brows lifted. “Why are you so violent?”

I raised my hands, then dropped them. “I need serious help.”

Still sitting on my bed, Misha nodded somberly.

“You guys don’t understand, though,” I said, feeling whiny beyond belief as I looked at Jada. “You have Ty.” And then I turned to Misha. “And you’re starting something with Alina. Thierry has Matthew, and I know you think Zayne’s a bad dude,” I said to Misha, “but I don’t think he is, and I just want... I just want a smidgen of that. I want to be...”

You’re a weapon, Trinity.

“What?” Jada asked quietly.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

“No, it’s not nothing.” Jada blocked my path, becoming an immovable force. “What do you want?”

I was trained to fight—to kill when necessary. I had the grace, a powerful weapon that could slay demons and Wardens and everything in between. I’d been a weapon since birth, and very few things scared me, but I didn’t have the courage to say what I wanted.

Which was to be wanted for anything other than what I was born for.

Misha rose from the bed, swinging an arm over my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go or we’re going to be late.”

For a moment, I didn’t think Jada was going to relent, but she nodded and turned with a graceful swirl of her skirts. After guiding me out of my room, Misha stopped us at the top of the stairs and I prepared myself for a massive lecture. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper against my ear.

“I know what you want,” he said, squeezing me against his side. “You want to be wanted, and there’s nothing wrong with that, Trin. Not at all.”

* * *

There was a spirit in the Great Hall.

I knew he was definitely not on Team Alive and Breathing because his body was doing the whole flicker in and out thing, and although he was standing directly behind Dez and Nicolai, they were unaware of the man, going so far as to push their chairs through the spirit more than once.