Page 17 of Wait for You

Smoke had filtered into the courtyard, obscuring everything, but Mat knew where he needed to go; he could’ve done the trek in the dark. Dragging a frozen Imogen, he pushed through the mass of frantic bodies.

They’d nearly made it out of the courtyard when someone slammed into them from behind. His heart stopped when Imogen’s fingers ripped out of his with a cry.

Whirling around, all he could see was smoke. “Gen!”

Mat dropped to his knees and searched for her with his hands. When he connected with her legs, he found her prone on the stone tiles. Relief tore through him as he pulled her up, hugging her to his chest. She was lucid, if a little stunned.

People still trampled around them, and they had to get the hell off the ground. Pushing himself up with Imogen in his arms, he fled from the raid down a dark hallway that ended in a fork.

“Which way?” Her agitated cry broke through the silence that had settled over her since all hell broke loose.

A soft light filtered in from the left branch, giving Mat a glimpse of the state she was in. When he set her on her feet, her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths while her hands twisted the dress of her costume into knots. This might be merely another day on the job for him, but Imogen had never had to deal with anything like this—fleeing for her life.

Tilting her chin, he brushed a feather off her cheek and murmured, “Everything’s gonna be okay,vida mía.”

Her eyes softened at the endearment. He’d called her my life, but it hadn’t been a slip of the tongue. There was a time when she had been his whole life. He still loved her, and even if they weren’t together, he didn’t want to contemplate a world without her in it.

He’d always admired her strength. Watching her calm down, deliberately slowing her breathing, it would be all too easy to let her fill that space in his heart again.

And he’d start by capturing that saucy mouth of hers. It was extra enticing with the bright orange lipstick she wore. The color contrasted with her caramel skin, luring him in.

Though he desperately wanted to kiss her, they needed to put some distance between them and the chaos they’d left behind. Instead of going right or left in the hall, Mat tapped a spot on the wainscoting in front of them, and a door swept in.

It wasn’t much wider than a foot, but he’d traversed the hidden pathway before and knew he could fit—sideways. Although not in this getup. He tipped his sombrero off his head so that it hung on his back, held by the string around his neck.When he reached for Imogen’s headdress, her eyes had become as big as saucers, and she trembled under his palm.

“Gen?” he asked as he removed her feathers.

When her gaze focused on him, fear clawed at its edges. “I can’t.” The words, barely a ragged breath, broke from her lips.

She started to back away, twisting her head. He held her in place and felt tremors shake her frame.

Is she claustrophobic?

He racked his brain but couldn’t remember her ever telling him that. Trying to soothe her with his voice, he told her softly, “It’s the safest route.”

“Please.” With her eyes, she begged him not to make her go in there, but if he wanted to keep her safe, she had to conquer this.

Cupping her face, Mat bent and kissed her softly on the lips. It was meant as comfort, nothing more, but the desire to delve deeper tempted him something fierce. “I’ve got you, Gen.” Stepping back, he clasped her palm, lacing their fingers together. “I won’t let go.”

When she gave the barest of nods, he pulled Imogen through the doorway and quickly shut it behind them. He untied his sombrero and dropped it on the floor with her headdress. Leaving them in the hall would’ve been suspicious, but he didn’t expect anyone to find them there. Especially when it was pitch black in the narrow space they’d just entered.

“Where are we?” she whispered wheezily. Her staccato breaths severed the quiet, stirring the stale air with the force of their movement.

Mat squeezed her hand as he started to move forward. “This leads to the servant’s wing. There’s a tunnel there that’ll get us outta the house.” Her tiny palm gripped his so tightly he could feel her nails digging into his skin. “Deep breaths, beautiful. You’re safe with me.”

She half gasped, half hiccupped over her erratic breaths. “I really don’t like tight spaces.”

Though she couldn’t see it, a frown tugged at Mat’s lips. “You never told me you were claustrophobic.”

Her voice was so tiny he had to strain to hear it. “I thought I’d gotten over it.”

Making her talk might help her breathing drop into a regular rhythm. “Wanna tell me about it?”

A heavy pause before he heard her sigh. “Not now.”

Mat nodded in the dark. “Probably best. Think about somethin’ else. How ’bout . . . what you want to eat when we get out of here. Because I’m starvin’.”

She had a smile in her voice when she answered, and relief knocked some of the stones out of his gut, “Tamales.”

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