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Her thoughts had a desperate edge, but the reminder did its job, dousing her mind in an icy wave of clarity. She straightened and stiffened her shoulders.
“Since you are awake, perhaps you can tell me where my bag is. And… for your information, I wasn’t near death’s door,” she retorted in a hushed voice.
“You were close enough for me,” he replied.
Their eyes met. He didn’t move from where he was sitting, and she didn't move either, his expression holding her in place. She rolled her stiff shoulders in a dismissive shrug and brushed away a strand of hair teasing her cheek.
Her fingers tangled in her scarf, loosening it. It fluttered to the floor like a wounded butterfly that could no longer stay aloft. Her eyes followed it, entranced by the movement.
His swift breath warned her that his eyes were not on her scarf. She lifted her eyes to stare at him as it slowly dawned on her that he could see her face… all of her face.
Vulnerability shivered through her as his gaze moved slowly over her, pausing for only a brief second on the scar that ran down her cheek. She lifted her chin, embodying the bravery of a superhero—or the recklessness of a supervillain—but as the silence grew, so did her panic.
Spinning around so that her back was to him, she fished around her pockets for a scarf. Her fingers closed over one neatly folded in the side cargo pocket of her pants. She was pulling it out when firm but gentle fingers wrapped around her wrist to stop her. She hadn’t heard him move from the chair and around the bed.
“Don’t… please,” he murmured near her ear.
“Junayd,” she breathed.
“Don’t hide from me,raqisat alqamar,” he pleaded in a low voice.
She bit her lip. She had long ago accepted her scar. The only reason she kept her face covered was because it was her shield. She had started wearing it shortly after her injury and Junebug had mentioned it made her look like a superhero, so… the scarf had stuck. Now that she couldn't rely on it, she felt naked. He could clearly see her struggle to control her emotions, and it was even more obvious that she wasn't a sexy blonde bombshell. She was… ordinary.
His lips brushed the sensitive spot behind her ear. She trembled. She wasn’t sure if the weakness was caused by her injuries or by his lips, but she suspected it was the latter. The warmth of his body was a magnet that she was having a hard time resisting.
“What are you doing to me?” she breathed.
His breath heated her skin when he softly laughed. “A fraction of what I have imagined doing to you.”
She sharply inhaled, and he briefly tightened his grip before he cleared his throat. He gently turned her to face him.
“You still have enough painkiller in you to take the edge off, but it won’t be long before you will feel the full magnitude of your injuries. You can wash up first, but you need to rest more. You lost a lot of blood—and Harry and Idella would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch.”
Turning her head from him, she fingered her ruined clothing. She needed to get home. She could change and rest there.
Strong fingers under her chin guided her to look up into Junayd’s dark brown eyes. For some reason, she felt like he could read her mind, and his desperation to keep her safe and keep her close was a physical presence between them. She felt her face heat as he continued to study her features, his eyes lingering on her lips.
“You are more beautiful than I dreamed,” he murmured, meeting her eyes.
She met his lips halfway. The intensity of their chemistry frightened her, but it also thrilled her. She wound one hand around his neck and pressed the other against his chest. His hands moved tenderly over her arms, staying away from her injury.
She broke their kiss suddenly, turning her head. He continued to press small kisses to her temple, including the small scar near her hairline. She shuddered.
“I have to go,” she murmured, pushing against his chest.
“Where? Why?” he demanded, gripping her forearms in a loose hold.
She caressed his cheek. “Let me go, Junayd.”
He shook his head. “I can’t… I don’t want to. There is a connection between us that I think—hope—you feel as well.”
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that touched her. It soothed her conflicted feelings, allowing her to bask in their strange connection for a moment. They stood locked in a world where it felt like they were the only people who existed. She leaned into him, needing to taste his lips against hers again.
This kiss was different, a tender kind of passionate, an exploration. He guided her arms to wrap around his waist. She felt safe and cherished in the haven of his arms.
Several breathless minutes later, Midnight opened her eyes and immediately felt like she was drowning all over again. His thumb caressed the rapid beating of her pulse.
“What is happening?” she asked, searching his face.
