Page 101 of Stormbreaker

I spot another person through a different crack and conclude that they’re spread evenly apart. So I hedge my bets and pick a path just to the right of whoever I last saw. When I think the coast is clear, I run. I pass another building, and someone jumps out at me.

Damn, it’s the same huge guy. I swerve as he reaches out, his fingertips barely brushing my arm. He’s big, yes, but that makes him kind of slow, and that’s my advantage.

I keep running as all three green team members begin to chase me, hot on my heels.

“Get back here!” someone shouts.

Why do people say that? Does he think I’ll just stop and let him have me?

I keep my head down, dodging around the fallen rocks and debris. I turn into another open area and curse. I need cover. I barrel across, but the guy is right behind me, and I can sense him closing the distance.

I barely register the rumble before it strikes. A bolt drops from the ceiling just as I cross the plaza, and it hits me. I know it immediately. My body seizes as the plasma arc swallows me in its boundary, a bright sizzle of pain ricocheting down my limbs.

I gasp and stumble when suddenly, someone grabs me and shoves me into a dark corner. I don’t have the presence of mind to scream, but a moment later, I realize it’s Rook.

“Put them out,” he’s saying as he smacks my arms and legs.

“What are you—” I protest, but he’s too busy dousing my sparks.

My next words die in my throat as he continues frantically tapping my head, my stomach, and even my cheeks.

He knows.

He knows.

When he’s finished, he stops and presses a hand to the wall behind me, his shoulders heaving with his breaths.

His gaze slowly meets mine as I gape open-mouthed.

A tiny spark of purple winks in his hair, and I reach up to pinch it as his eyes track my movements.

He knows.

And he’s immune to Spark, too.

Several things coalesce in my thoughts. That shadow I saw the night I escaped the city. The way Rook found me on the train right after. A part of me was sure it was him.

My heart is racing in my chest as a hundred different emotions hit me at once.

We both regard each other with a sort of reserved, guarded awe.

I become increasingly aware of the tightness of the space and how close he is to me. His thighs press against my hips, and his chest brushes mine. Each point of contact becomes a live wire, bright and hot and dangerous.

He’s still breathing heavily as he leans in, his expression full of curiosity and a high degree of assessment. “Be more careful,” he growls. He’s so close, I feel the ghost of his breath against my lips.

My chin tips up, and suddenly, our mouths hover an inch apart. Just like the night he rescued me on the train, I get the strangest thought that he’s planning to kiss me, but I don’t move, afraid of looking like a fool again.

It’s madness that I desperately want it.

A buzzer dings at the far end, reminding me that the game is still on.

We both pause. Did anyone see what just happened?

They haven’t stopped us, so maybe the moment went unnoticed.

With my hands pressed to his chest, I shove him back. It takes him by surprise, and he stumbles. Something I sense is hard for anyone to do to him.

We exchange another look heavy with a thousand things neither of us can say. Not here, surrounded by our teammates. By Henry and Dr. Eze. By that monster clad in the color of dried blood, holding a stunner, looking for any excuse to kill us on the spot. Or worse.