Torment - Lauren Kate [64]
He took her hand and pulled her over the windowsill and out into the air and his arms. But then he set her down on a wide, flat ledge under the window that she’d never noticed before.
She always felt the urge to cry when she was happiest. “You’re not supposed to be here. But I’m so glad you are.”
“Prove it,” he said, smiling as he pulled her back against his chest so that his head was just over her shoulder. He looped one arm around her waist. Warmth radiated from his wings. When she looked over her shoulder, all she could see was white; the world was white, all softly textured and aglow with moonlight. And then Daniel’s great wings began to beat—
Her stomach dropped a little and she knew she was being lifted—no, rocketed, straight into the sky. The ledge below them grew smaller and the stars above shone brighter and the wind ripped across her body, tousling her hair across her face.
Up they soared, higher into the night, until the school was just a black smudge on the ground below. Until the ocean was just a silver blanket on the earth. Until they pierced a feathery layer of cloud.
She wasn’t cold or afraid. She felt free of everything that weighed her down on earth. Free of danger, free of any pain she’d ever felt. Free of gravity. And so in love. Daniel’s mouth traced a line of kisses up the side of her neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and turned her to face him. Her feet were on top of his, just as when they’d danced over the ocean at the bonfire. There was no wind anymore; the air around them was silent and calm. The only sounds were the beating of Daniel’s wings as they hovered in the sky and the beating of her own heart.
“Moments like this,” he said, “make everything we’ve had to go through worthwhile.”
Then he kissed her as he’d never kissed her before. A long, extended kiss that seemed to claim her lips forever. His hands traced the line of her body, lightly at first and then more forcefully, delighting in her curves. She melted into him, and he ran his fingers along the backs of her thighs, her hips, her shoulders. He took control of every part of her.
She felt the muscles beneath his cotton shirt, his taut arms and neck, the hollow at the small of his back. She kissed his jaw, his lips. Here in the clouds, with Daniel’s eyes sparkling brighter than any star she had ever seen, this was where Luce belonged.
“Can’t we just stay here forever?” she asked. “I’ll never get enough of this. Of you.”
“I hope not.” Daniel smiled, but soon, too soon, his wings shifted, flattening out. Luce knew what was coming next. A slow descent.
She kissed Daniel one last time and loosened her arms from around his neck, preparing herself for flight—but then she lost her grip.
And fell.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Luce tipping backward, her arms flailing wildly, and then the rush of cold and wind as she plummeted and her breath left her. Her last glimpse was of Daniel’s eyes, the shock in his face.
But then everything sped up, and she was falling so furiously she couldn’t breathe. The world was a spinning black void, and she felt nauseated and scared, her eyes burning from the wind, her vision dimming and tunneling. She was going to pass out.
And that would be it.
She would never know who she really was, never know whether it had all been worth it. Would never know whether she was worthy of Daniel’s love, and he of hers. It was all over; this was it.
The wind was a fury in her ears. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.
And then he caught her.
There were arms around her, strong, familiar arms, and she was gently slowing, no longer falling—she was being cradled. By Daniel. Her eyes were closed, but Luce knew him.
She began to sob, so relieved that Daniel had caught her, had saved her. In that