Page 56 of Heavensent & Hellbent

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper.

I nodded, yielding to him, desperate for him, just like all the versions of myself who came before me.

He put his hands on either side of my face, handling me like I was made of glass, his touch gentle but firm. When his lips finally met mine, it was like I could breathe again, like I had been held underwater all this time and could finally,finallyexhale. His soft lips moved against mine, and it felt like our lips were molded for each other. Weaving my arms around his neck, I closed any distance between us as the kiss deepened, and I sank into him.

Zain was a very good kisser. I had worried about how kissing for the first time would go, imagining awkwardness and clashing teeth. But with Zain, it was nothing like that. It was almost like once his lips were on mine, it was all muscle memory. Our past lives were reminding us of what it was like to kiss each other.

I tugged his bottom lip between my teeth and gently bit down. I wasn’t even quite sure why I did it, but I thought it would be something Zain would like. He let out a small sound, which made me move my head back.

He gazed at me in something like awe, eyes wide. Ratherthan feel self-conscious, I reveled in the fact that I had this effect on Zain. Always had, now and then.

His hair was tousled, lips a deep pink, especially his bottom one. Even looking at his mouth made my heart beat a little more quickly. I moved my gaze downward, but even his chest—how broad it was, how it filled his T-shirt, the material strained against his strength—made the stirring in the pit of my stomach more pronounced. I had never felt such a visceral pull to anyone before, certainly never wanted them with this kind of desire. Even if my attraction to him was deeply rooted in my soul and began with my past selves, it was still mine. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He cleared his throat, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple the only sign that he was ruffled—that and the way his eyes continually flickered down to my lips, as though wanting more. Noticing this, I had to look away to calm myself.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Zain asked. “I’m teaching football in the morning and have an afternoon shift at the diner, but in the evening?”

I didn’t mean to be dramatic, but I couldn’t wait twenty-four hours before seeing Zain again. The idea of waiting twenty-four hours to kiss him was impossible. This must have shown on my face, because he reached over and stroked my cheek. His lips were quirked up in a smile, like he found my morose expression amusing.

“Why are you smiling like that?” I asked, accusatory.

“Sometimes I have no idea what you’re thinking, but other times you’re so expressive that I just know. Like now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, though when he moved his hand away, I caught it in mine, interlacing our fingers together. Even holding his hand sent an electric current through me. He tightened his grip before pulling our interlaced hands to his mouth. He kissed the back of my hand once more.

When he released my hand, it felt like a part of me was missing, like my body was somehow imbalanced without his touch. I really didn’t think I’d be the type of person to think such a thing; it slightly freaked me out.

I didn’t realize I’d leaned forward again until his lips grazed mine. He was teasing, inhaling me, letting his nose brush against mine. I closed the space between us, melting my lips into his and reaching my arms around his neck. One of his hands cupped my face, the other my waist, bringing me closer to him, which was hard given the gearshift between us. Our tongues met, and stroked, the kiss deepening. It was the sound of Zain’s phone ringing that made us break apart. He dug into his jeans pocket and frowned at the caller’s name.

“It’s my mentor,” he explained.

“You can take it,” I said, breathless. I pinched the outside of my thigh in an attempt to focus myself.

He muted the call and shook his head. “I’ll call him back in a bit.”

“Well, I should go…” I said, realizing that making out in a car around the corner from my dad was a recipe for disaster.

“I hope you sleep well,” Zain said, pressing one last kiss to my lips.

I doubted that I would, but hoped if I did have dreamstonight, they would be of the love we shared, and not of the jinn that had declared a war against us—and my mother.

“Majid,” I said by wayof greeting as I got in the car that was parked on a side street, away from the business of the main road, the jubilation and cheers of the crowds distant. The white nurse’s uniform I wore was tight enough to force me to sit up straight in the passenger seat. The man who sat in the driver’s seat, and looked like Zain, had an unreadable expression. His green army suit, with buttons down the front, was fitted to his lean torso. On his lap was an army hat. He appeared different from the times I’d seen him before. For one, he had a mustache. It was a sandy blond and suited him. He seemed older, maybe in his early twenties.

“Are you happy about the shah coming into power?” he asked in Farsi, his voice colored with excitement. “It’s a new era.” I wasn’t sure how, but somehow in my dreams, I understood the language perfectly, as though unlocking a whole other skill my past self possessed.

“Yes,” I said, my hands gathered in my lap. I pressed my palms together, as though in a sort of silent prayer. “But that’s not why you asked me to meet you, is it?” I raised my chin, almost defiantly locking eyes with him. My lips curved when I saw the tops of his cheeks gain heat.

“You’re mad at me,” he guessed, eyes suddenly downcast.

“Not mad,” I said smoothly. “I understand.”

“It’s just beyond comprehension.” His voice was quiet, like he was speaking to himself. He put his hat on the dashboard and bundled both my hands in his. “I would have only ever thought you were from light, the way your presence turns my day from gray to color, the way you nursed me back to health after my wound…But I’ve realized I don’t care what you are. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

I turned my body to face him. “You don’t?” I replied in wonder, as though what he was saying was impossible.

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip. My gaze remained on his lip, wishing it was my lip that he was biting.

Ahead of us, fireworks sounded. I could see the remains of them out of the corner of my eye.