Page 194 of The Sinner's Bargain

Thoran wasn’t listening. “Let her go. Now.”

Oliver shook his head. “You can’t tell me what to do this time, I’m afraid. There are much bigger things at play than your authority. If you had just stayed upstairs a little longer, Naya would be up in your bed right now and everything would be fine.”

I could see the confusion in Thoran’s expression, but there was also a hard, dangerous concentration that warned Oliver he would not go lightly on him.

“I don’t give a fuck, Oliver. You hurt her, you know I will flay the skin off your fucking bones, uncle or not. I will carve you to pieces.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “I understand. Your father would have done the same, but unfortunately, you will kill me regardless.”

Thoran didn’t argue the fact. His stone, cold stare stated very clearly that was exactly what would happen the second the needle was off me.

“Come here, Naya,” Thoran said again softly, eyes never once leaving the man holding a vile of poison to my vein.

Oliver’s fist tightened in my hair. Something hot and wet trickled down my neck and across my collarbone, making me wince. Thoran watched the trickle of blood with a flare of his nostrils before eyes the black of night shot up to the man wielding the syringe.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’re not walking out of this room alive.”

There seemed to be a standstill as the two stared the other down. Something squelched in the background, an abhorrent sound of a wet suction. Thoran must have heard it, too, because his gaze wavered over Oliver’s shoulder, a flick that turned into horror.

“What the fuck?”

Oliver, possibly as worried as I was about that thing coming up behind him, looked over his shoulder. I couldn’t see what was happening, nor was I given a chance to when a bomb exploded in the silence of the tomb. A ricocheting explosion of noise that reverberated across the walls.

Oliver jerked.

The needle sank into my neck. A pinching sting that made me cry out.

Thoran grabbed me in the same heartbeat and yanked me to him. The hand not bunched in my vomit covered sweater, grabbed the needle. Tore it out. His palm pressed into my skin. His eyes wide and feverish.

“What was in there?” he demanded, breathing hard against my face.

“I ... I don’t know.” My lips were tingling. My fingers felt numb as if all the blood had left my limbs. “Did ... did it go in?”

His hand was shaking when he lifted up the needle to look at the tube. “I don’t know. How much was in here?”

He must have realized I didn’t have the answer when he scooped me up into his arms and ran. Uncaring that I was filthy and stank to high heavens.

We were in the ballroom and sprinting up the stairs without ever breaking stride. I wasn’t exactly a basket of feathers, but the way he carried me through the entire house and out the front door, I may as well have been.

“Car!” he bellowed to someone I couldn’t see.

“Thoran,” I breathed into his neck, my head light. My vision flickering in and out of focus.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’ll make it okay. I promise. Hold on.”

Waves of hot and cold scuttled across my skin, making me itch and shiver.

“I love you.”

“Stop talking,” he growled. “You’re not fucking leaving me, Naya. You fucking swore.”

I tightened my arms around him. “Love you.”

I didn’t hear his threats as I slipped into that cool, dark place.

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