It didn’t last long. It felt like forever. Darren reloaded, checked on me, forced me back down and yelled at me to keep my fucking head out of the line of fire unless I wanted my brain splattered all over the pavement, and went back to shooting.
I watched his men, dazed.
Finally, it died down. Several guards ran over. Darren relayed orders, got a group together, and swept into the field, leaving me behind with Anthony and a few more soldiers.
Anthony’s face was bloodied and his arm hung limp. A large gash along his shoulder bled freely. He was grinning from ear to ear as he slumped down next to me.
He said something.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head. I couldn’t hear a thing.
He shouted, “Was that your first time?”
“Getting shot at? Yes, it was.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Get used to it.”
The soldiers grinned at him and I only stared, horrified.
Bodies lay unmoving nearby. A young guy, eyes staring sightlessly, chest leaking slowly. Another man, big and brawny, had a hole the size of a fist through his right eye.
Nobody moved to help them. One of the survivors lit a cigarette.
Darren returned after a few minutes. He barked more orders and the soldiers scattered. They dragged the bodies to the side of the road before piling into the remaining cars.
Sirens screamed in the distance. Darren shoved me in the back seat. My ears were starting to work again but my hands were heavy and tingling, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. He glared at the window as the caravan began to drive again.
“What was that?”
He looked at me. “Roman.”
That was all he needed to say.
I turned away from him with a shiver.
My rescue attempt. If he’d been wrong about which car we were in, it could’ve been me blown up. And none of Roman’s men were particularly careful with where they were shooting.
That was an ambush, and I’m not totally sure Roman cared whether I survived it or not.
I could see it from his perspective. Give it a good, honest effort, but if I died in the attempt—well, oh, well. Cassie would be upset, but she’d move on, and I wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
I could barely catch my breath. I was so deep now—I was sitting on the ocean floor getting crushed by water and gravity and the lack of air all at once. Roman above, Darren below, and both of them held a gun pointed right at me.
“Hey. You’re freaking out.” Darren moved closer as the sirens got louder. “You need to calm down. You’ll hyperventilate and pass out.”
“He knew I was here,” I said and couldn’t get it together, couldn’t stop gasping in mouthfuls, I was drowning, I was dying. “He didn’t care.”
His face darkened. “No, he didn’t.”
“Why? I thought he wanted to save me.”
“Roman wants only what’ll help his empire in the long run.”
“He loves Cassie. I know he does. I saw it.”
“I believe you, but love only gets you so far. This is war, love.” He put both hands on my shoulders, squeezing them tight. “You have to try to bring it down. You’re breathing too fast.”
I couldn’t still my racing heart. I was still in shock from the attack and finally coming down from whatever high managed to keep me from losing it completely. But Darren was right, panicking wouldn’t do a damn thing to save my life, and so I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the pressure of his fingers on my arms.
Strangely, that worked. Focusing my concentration onto two small points of my body helped calm my overly active brain. I wasn’t calm—not even close—but I wasn’t about to pass out.
He didn’t release me.
“Better?”
“I think so.” I opened my eyes. “What am I going to do?”
His face was clouded and blank. “You really hoped he’d save you.”
“Of course I did.”
“It’s not happening, love. He’s not coming for you. I’m all you have now.”
I bit my lip hard enough to break it open again. I tasted blood and licked my lips.
He leaned forward and kissed me.
I was too surprised to react. It was gentle at first, probing and inquisitive, until it got harder, more intense. He pushed me back against the door and pinned me there as my mouth opened and let him inside. His kiss was an attack, an invasion force primed to break me to pieces. His lips were a scorched earth policy, and I was his target.
All of me burned.
I hated that it tasted good, lilacs and jasmine and a deep nutty earthiness. His tongue rolled along mine, eating me, drinking me, lavishing in touch. His fingers bit into my flesh harder, leaving tight little bruises were his fingers puckered my arms, and I wanted him to hurt me, wanted him to make me feel something.