by Kyla Stone
He shifted anxiously. “I never wanted you to feel—”
She arched onto her tiptoes and kissed him.
He tensed for a brief moment, startled, as if worried that if he moved a muscle, she would bolt. But she didn’t.
The Suzuki book fell to the ground, forgotten. He reached out and cradled her head in his hands, drawing her gently to him. He kissed her back, softly at first, his lips full and sweet.
Every nerve in her body tingled. Her stomach fluttered. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his wavy hair. He smelled like vanilla and old books, but it was a good smell, a smell that filled her and made her heady with the scent of it.
He kissed her harder, more insistently, drawing her as close as he could. He wrapped her in his arms and held on like he might never let go. His arms were the most comforting place she could think of. She clung to him, and he clung to her.
They stood in the circle of lamplight, surrounded by darkness but safe and warm together. Whatever happened next, whatever the darkness held, the grief and struggle and pain that awaited them, she no longer feared it.
She’d faced her greatest threats alone; she knew she was capable, knew she could endure, would endure. But she didn’t have to do it alone anymore. And that meant everything.
She felt the pulse of his heart against her own chest, both of their hearts beating in tandem. It sounded like peace. It felt like home.
It felt like flying, like soaring into a clear blue sky, but without the fear, only exhilaration, happiness, peace. Like she was finally where she belonged. Where she’d always belonged.
39
Micah
“There’s something I want to show you,” Micah said to Amelia.
The sun shone in the cobalt blue sky. Clouds drifted like lacy ribbons above the mountains surrounding them. Birds chirped, and in the distance, the sound of children laughing. The snow was gone. Here and there, blades of verdant green poked through the brown earth outside the Sanctuary.
“There,” Micah said, pointing toward the quarantine tent. Two lines of people stretched out on either side of the containment center, where they’d first entered the Sanctuary what felt like a lifetime ago.
In the line nearest the gate, mothers held babies close to their chests. Small children clutched their fathers’ legs. A few loners stood apart while groups and families huddled closer together. Some looked weary and dirty, like they hadn’t bathed in weeks. Others were dressed in clean clothes with brushed hair.
Everyone wore masks and gloves. And every face, both young and old, bore the strain of barely-believed hope.
Soldiers in hazmat suits with scanners and med-bots bobbing along behind them walked along the lines, giving out instructions and scanning people. They directed certain people into the quarantine tent. “They’re sending the infected inside to receive the cure,” Micah said. “They’ll quarantine everyone for twenty-four hours to ensure the virus is really dead, then release them.”
“And the vaccine?” Amelia asked.
Micah pointed to where the soldiers were sending a second group to a long table near the Sanctuary entrance. Willow and Celeste stood behind the table with several nurses, along with Theo and Fiona. They greeted each person with a smile and a few words before injecting them with serum 341.
At the end of the table, Finn handed out stuffed animals with his good arm. His giant shadow swallowed up the children who darted in shyly to grab a teddy bear of their own.
Amelia closed her eyes, her face lifted toward the sun. “What is that Emily Dickinson poem?”
“‘Hope is a thing with feathers,’” he said, unable to tear his gaze from her.
Nothing was perfect. It never would be. There would be disagreements, fighting. New enemies would rise up and try to steal the happiness others had found. But today was pretty close to perfect.
This was how he would live. He would take each day. He would try his best to be kind, to help others. He would take risks. He would love deeply. His family, his friends, even strangers. Because they were all in this thing together. And above all, he would never give up hope.
In the end, that was everything.
“Do you want to help?” he asked her.
“Yes! With all my heart, yes. But there’s something I need to do first.” Amelia removed the leather thong from around her neck. She unclasped the diamond charm bracelet and held it in her open palm.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “What do you want to do with it?”
She stared down at it. The diamonds sparkled and glinted in the sun. Her brow furrowed. “I kept it for so long. I wasn’t sure why. But I don’t need it anymore. It’s time to let it go. I’ll give it to one of these families. They can trade it for food, medicine, something actually useful.”
She slipped the bracelet in her pocket and placed the leather thong he’d given her back around her neck, over her heart. “I have what I need.”
Micah watched her. Her pale cheeks held a hint of color. Her white-blonde hair rippled in the breeze, her eyes shining brighter than any diamond. She was so brave, so beautiful, this girl that he loved.
“We’ll be okay, you know.” He leaned in and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. “Not tomorrow. Not today. But we will.”
Amelia took Micah’s hand. “We will.”
Together, they faced the new world.
The End
I hope you enjoyed reading The Last Sanctuary series as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked Raging Light, please consider leaving a quick Amazon review HERE. Reviews help readers find good stories and help authors reach new readers. I read every review.
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Also by Kyla Stone
Beneath the Skin
Before You Break
Real Solutions for Adult Acne
Rising Storm
Falling Stars
Burning Skies
Breaking World
Raging Light
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my awesome readers. I write for you.
And to my beta readers. Your thoughtful critiques and enthusiasm are invaluable to me. Thank you so much to Lauren Nikkel, Kimberley Trembley, Michelle Browne, Leslie Spurrier, Jazmin Cybulski, Jeremy Steinkraus, and Barry and Derise Marden.
To Michelle Browne for being a great developmental and line editor. And to Eliza Enriquez for her meticulous eye, always catching those last little proofreading errors.
To my husband, who always helps with deadlines and plot holes and listens patiently to problems about imaginary people.
And to Caleb and Ella. You mean the world to me.
About the Author
Kyla Stone is an emerging author of contemporary young adult fiction and apocalyptic dystopian novels. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband, two children, and two spoiled cats. When she’s not writing or spending time with her family, she loves to read, hike, draw, travel, and play games. Her favorite food is dark chocolate.
Kyla loves to hear from her readers. For news and new releases, visit her at:
www.FaceBook.com/KylaStoneBooks
www.Amazon.com/author/KylaStone
Email her at [email protected]
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