Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Her embrace hurt.
But I returned it. “Thank you so much for shooting Larry that night. I’m in your debt.”
She shuddered. “I’m just sorry he shot you first.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I’m so glad to see you alive, Rach.”
Snuggling deeper into me, she sighed heavily. “Me too. God, Henri. We thought you were dead.”
Pulling away, I shrugged. “Not yet.”
Q looked at me sideways, studying how Rachel and I drank each other in.
What would he say if I admitted I’d slept with her?
Would he kill me if I told him I’d fired paintball guns right into her unprotected flesh? While she was pregnant?
Shooting a look at Q, she pulled away and licked her lips. Whispering to me, she said, “Come find me when you’re ready. I’ve asked to stay for a bit. At least until…” She trailed off and looked at a door further down the corridor. “You’ll be okay, Henri.”
I frowned but she stepped back into her room and closed the door.
“Friend of yours?” Q asked, urging me back into a walk.
I focused on staying upright despite my heart thumping strangely. “Rachel was Victor’s favourite. We spent most evenings together…before I fell out of favour.”
“You and Ily?”
“We were a foursome.” I winced. “We played a lot of games together.”
“Games?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t ask.”
“Did you ever…”
I slammed to a stop. “Did I ever what? Hurt Rachel?” I sucked in a breath. “Yes, I did. But completely against my control. What happened between us was—”
“Never mind.” Tugging me toward the door that Rachel had studied, he pursed his lips. “You did what you had to do to survive. I’m in no place to judge.”
Sunshine streamed through the skylights above, drenching us with heat and brightness.
So it wasn’t night, after all. Just my room that’d been dark.
Daylight rinsed away every sin and pain from the jewels as they gathered in the corridor behind us and watched.
My shredded back prickled beneath my bandages as Q let me go. Pressing the door handle, he stepped back and motioned me to go in. “You first.”
I turned to look at him. To ask what the hell was going on but then my eyes snagged on the bed. On the bright white sheets and the pool of sunshine cradling the person beneath those sheets.
I staggered for entirely new reasons.
It can’t be…
My ribcage threatened to snap apart as my heart inflated with a thousand agonising hopes.
I didn’t remember putting one foot in front of the other.
I didn’t remember how I crossed that silver-and-ivory-painted bedroom.
I didn’t remember falling to my knees beside the bed.
Or how I managed to stay alive when every part of me wanted to shatter in every direction.
But I did remember the feel of her hand.
The warmth of her fingers.
The tangible truth that she was here.
Pressing my lips to her knuckles, I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Oh, God. Thank fuck.” Bowing over her, I broke. “Ily. Christ, Ily.”
I shuddered as tears rolled down my cheeks, splashing onto her wonderful hand.
I’d never cried before her. Never felt the depths of love before her. Never suffered such exquisite pain before her.
But she was worth it.
She was worth every drop of sadness and agony. And if I had to live the rest of my life in torture, I would do it gladly. Happily. Desperately.
“Ily…” I kissed her knuckles, again and again. “God, Ily.”
I felt faint and feeble. Feverish and frantic.
“Say something. Anything. Are you okay? How…how is this possible? I-I thought you were dead. The blood. All that blood—” A gasp stole the rest of my air, choking me. I looked up and stared at her beautiful face.
And finally saw what my hope had blanked out.
No…
Please no.
She lay as still as she had on Victor’s lawn. Her hair smooth and gathered in a loose ponytail over the pillow. Her collarless neck bound in thick bandages and her chest swaddled with yet more white protection. Thick eyelashes stenciled her cheeks, while an oxygen tube fed air into her nose.
I went ice cold as I studied her mouth. How her perfect lips spread around another tube going down her throat.
Jesus Christ.
Struggling to my feet, I collapsed beside her on the bed and cupped her cheek. The oxygen tube burned my fingers. I wanted to rip it out of her and breathe directly into her lungs. “Fuck, little nightmare.” I couldn’t catch a proper inhale. Panic crushed my ribs. “Please, mon cœur. Please open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Never again. You’re safe now. I promise. Please, Ily…please open your eyes.”
Not a twitch.
My breath turned thin and fast.
The room spun.
Fear crashed through every organ.
“Ily…c-can you hear me?”
“Those who wake from a coma say they can hear, so yes, I’d say she can.”
My gaze snapped to the left. A short slim man with grey hair and wire rimmed glasses sat in a pewter upholstered chair. The side table beside him held vials and syringes, bandages and boxes. Following my stare, he said softly, “My travelling hospital supplies.” Standing, he came toward us, his white coat pristine. “I will leave you two alone, but first, I will answer any questions you have, so you don’t hyperventilate and have to be triaged yourself.”