Page 18 of Possess Me at Midnight
“I’ll drive there and teleport back to you. Then we’ll sneak away to the church with the book together.”
“No.” The thought of Sabelle alone, vulnerable without my protection, makes my chest constrict. Every instinct screams against letting her walk into danger. The Anarki wouldn’t simply kill her, they would deliver her to Mathias. And what he’d do to her…
But the determination in her eyes makes me swallow the rest of my objections. As much as I hate it, her sodding plan makes sense, even if it tears me apart.
“Fuck. All right. Can you do that?”
“Drive? Of course. Bram has fourteen cars. When the weather is nice, I often sneak out in one of his convertibles and drive through the countryside just to feel the fresh air on my face and the wind in my hair.”
I can picture that. Would, in fact, love to see proper, privileged Sabelle Rion sneaking out, breaking rules, her hair streaming out behind her as freedom beckons. What other secrets does she harbor behind that perfect facade? How much of the princess is real…and how much is a role she’s forced to play?
I don’t know, but I would love to see more sides of Sabelle, especially one in which her hair streams across my pillow as I sink deep into her body…
Who the bloody hell am I kidding? Tonight is as close to Sabelle as I’ll ever be.
When I first met her, Bram refused to even allow her to shake my hand. Half the time, she looks as if she can’t decide whether I’m merely dangerous or terrifying. And now she wants to steal a car to help me get free? Yes, she’ll also be saving her brother and the book. I grasp that. But after securing the car, she could have plotted to drive away and leave me to escape on my own. Instead, she speaks as if we’re a team. In this together. Inseparable.
Even the notion makes me hard. Well, harder.
I hate this plan…but I don’t have better options.
Turning to her, our faces dangerously close, I nod. “Go, then.”
I want to kiss her, squeeze her hand—something. I don’t dare. She wouldn’t welcome the gesture, and I’d only be tantalizing myself with what I can never have.
“Wait here.” Her gaze is soft, reluctant. “And be careful.”
Her soft warning does something to me, but of course she’s worried about the book. Not me. “If you don’t return in thirty minutes, I will come for you.”
“No. If I don’t return, teleport to Duke’s. Get him to bring Olivia or Sydney to collect the book. Don’t waste your time chasing me.” When I open my mouth to assure her that will never happen, she shakes her head. “We don’t have time to argue.”
Fuck. I curse as fear starts to gnaw at my gut. “Be careful.”
She nods, and as I watch her, my heart leaps into my throat. If anything happens to her—if any Anarki lays a single finger on her—I will take every one of them with me and burn the world to the ground.
Sabelle disappears into the fog, and I’m left clutching her brother’s limp form, staring into the gray void. A minute passes. Two. Then I hear it, the unmistakable sound of Anarki voices, growing louder. But they’re not coming from the direction of the village.
They’re coming from the direction Sabelle just trekked.
Chapter
Eight
Sabelle
* * *
Nearly midnight. After hours of terror and desperation, I find myself just outside Monmouth, an unfamiliar, too-quiet Welsh village, very near tears. What the bloody hell should I do?
After teleporting away from Ice to the local village, I scouted frantically until I found a suitable car. Outside a pub, I persuaded its owner to “lend” me the vehicle with a simple touch infused with my siren abilities. As I sped back to secure the book and my brother, I mentally catalogued lodging options.
On the edge of town, I managed to skirt the Anarki search parties and find my way back to Ice. He was visibly relieved when I reappeared, almost as if he wasn’t simply worried about our mission…but about me. That expression stirred a forbidden heat I’m still trying to ignore.
Together, we drove a wide, circuitous route to avoid Mathias and his goons, Bram’s unconscious form laid carefully across the back seat. Ice remained vigilant beside me, his massive frame filling the passenger seat, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings as I zipped through the countryside and into the village via an empty country road.
The car hit a pothole, jolting us. Ice instinctively reached out, steadying me with a firm grip on my shoulder. Even through his borrowed sweater, that touch sent heat spiraling down my arm. Our eyes met for a charged moment before he withdrew his hand and resumed his vigilant watch of the darkened countryside. But my awareness, the heat from his very touch, still lingered despite the danger pursuing us.
We arrived at this charming stone bed-and-breakfast—a place just isolated enough to be secure, yet not too far from the town center—under cover of darkness. Cautiously, I parked the car behind a building, hidden from the main road. But it’s close, accessible…in case we need to flee quickly.
