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It was an effort to push past the grit and smoke in my eyes, but I did it. The world was too dark and too bright at the same time. Blurry.

My glasses were probably melting.

Like I would’ve been.

“You saved me from a burning building,” I croaked.

The lips left my head, and Gage’s sharp features cut through the soft and blurry edges of my vision.

“Saving someone from a burning building doesn’t do much for the street cred of a self-professed villain,” I teased, the words glass against my throat. “You’re going to have to kick a puppy or something.”

The arms around me tightened. “I didn’t save someone,” he growled. “I saved you. And you’re not someone. You’re the fuckin’ only one. And you saved me by suckin’ in that air. By openin’ your beautiful eyes.”

“Well how about we save each other?” I offered as the darkness danced in my vision again. “You know, it’s only fair in a post-feminism society.”

And that was how I passed out. Not saying soulful and romantic words to the man who had saved my life.

No, commenting on the state of affairs in regard to gender equality.

It was the air that woke me up.

Much like the way the lack of it had jerked me awake when my apartment was on fire.

But it wasn’t the lack of it. It was the abundance of it.

Not dirtied by smoke but stripped of all bacteria, full of disinfectant. A hospital. I knew before I opened my eyes because of the smell. Because of the scratchy sheets covering me. The gentle beep of what I guessed was the heart monitor.

I had almost died in a house fire.

It was the logical place to be taken, after all.

“Well, burning your own house down is a bold move to get his attention, and it worked. Color me impressed.”

I craned my neck to see a black-haired, tattooed, and beautiful woman sitting beside me. Her arms were crossed, eyebrow raised as she regarded me. Everything about her should’ve made such a stare hard: the heavy liner around her eyes, the stark black of her clothing, the fact that her body was covered in tattoos.

But it wasn’t. Because it wasn’t the outside that governed how someone made you feel when they stared at you. It was what was inside their irises. Behind their words.

I knew that better than most people.

“I would say it’s a totally crazy move, but my husband blew up my car because he was bored.” She shrugged. “So I’m not one to judge.”

I smiled. Tried to speak, but all that came out was a hacking cough.

Her teasing smile left.

“You’re not supposed to talk for a hot minute,” she said, eyes dark. “You know, considering the fact that you almost freaking died of smoke inhalation.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that again. You scared the shit out of everyone. Sure, they’ve been waiting for something to happen, but not this.” She scanned my hospital bed. “I’ll give you a rundown. Every single woman is in various states of motion. Amy has been on and off with Barney’s all morning getting you a new wardrobe.” She winked. “She’s like, a fricking lifetime member there.” She sat back, folding her arms. “Mia is on the phone with contractors, yelling at them and telling them to drop everything they’re doing to work on the place the second the fire inspector’s done. And he’ll be done soon since Mia has already spoken to him too. Lily has checked you over, because she’s totally more competent than any doctor, and you’re only in here as a precaution. You burned your hand pretty good.”

My eyes went down to the hand in question, the white-hot memory of the pain overtaking me. The skin felt hot, scalding, the pain intense but not unmanageable. Likely because I was on some heavy painkillers.

“It’s going to take a bit to heal, and there’s going to be a scar,” Bex continued. “But you’ve already got those. This is just one the world can see.”

My eyes shimmered with her words, the knowledge in them.

“And the cause of the fire is now being determined,” she said, moving on. “There’s a guard posted outside the door, because well, it’s Gage.” She rolled her eyes. “And because I’ve never seen that man look wilder than when he told me to stand here and guard you with my life.” She raised her brow. “And he didn’t mean it metaphorically. The fucker would fully expect me to do it. So let’s hope this prospect has his shit together if anyone decides to attack.” She winked.

Attack?

“But I don’t think they will, since everyone’s so convinced that this is malice, but the early word is it’s electrical. Sometimes there’s nothing more malicious than plain old life.”

I blinked at her.

“Oh, and speaking of malice. Gage is off planning to kill someone most likely, but I doubt he’ll be gone for long, since a fire can’t live without oxygen, and that fucker is an inferno and you’re the air.”


Tags: Anne Malcom Sons of Templar MC Erotic