Page 19 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Go home,” she replied in a duh tone, waving her ring finger. “To me husband!”
The Guardian’s eyes flashed with something—anger? Disappointment? Before she could decipher it, she bolted.
Didn’t get far.
“ForCrimson’ssake, stop,” he growled, catching her not even two feet away. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re just too easy to play with.”
Her pathetic struggle had no effect against his strength. Her brain sloshed as he spun her to face him. The world tilted on its axis. Sequins snagged on his weapons, ripping and popping off, falling to the cobblestones.
“Let’s try this again,” he said. “You need to come with me. I promise I’ll be gentle … mostly.”
“No thank?—”
“Tut-tut.” His calloused palm smothered her lips. “That’s a no-no word here in Elphyne.”
Elphyne? She’d never heard of the place.
With her air supply restricted, her vision transformed from white dots to colors swimming through a white haze. Her legs buckled.
The scent of leather and something wild—pine forests and open skies—enveloped her moments before River’s arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her flush against his body.
“Whoa there, little rainbow mouse,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“Stop calling me that.” Blake’s head swam. “Not a mouse.”
“No, you most definitely are not,” he answered. “Sparkles fits you better.”
“How about fucking cunt,” she slurred.
“Only if you beg.”
“I meant … you are … not … me…”
“Sure you did—wait. This isn’t an escape ploy. You’re really not feeling well, are you?” Concern replaced his amusement as her stomach rolled, and she heaved. “Please don’t puke on me.”
Somehow, she managed to avoid his leather and lurched to the side. More black gunk spewed from her mouth and splashed on the porous stone. Deft fingers gathered her lengthy hair, pulling it back. The action both anchored her and allowed cooling air in. With one arm banded around her shoulders and the other hand in her hair, the Guardian stopped her from plunging face-first into her vomit.
“I’ve got you,” he soothed. “Let it all out.”
Trying to stem the deluge proved impossible, but he stayed. He held her steady when she wanted to drift away with the shifting tides inside her head.
She vaguely registered his growled warning for someone to look the other way, or he’d curse their eyes out, but then he returned to offering soothing words and rubbing her back. This moment of compassion from a stranger surpassed anything her husband had ever shown her.
When she finished retching, he didn’t flee or demand she clean up her mess. He didn’t reprimand her for stinking out the house or bathroom. He tilted her face toward his and wiped tears from her eyes with his thumbs.
Caught in the snare of his ocean blues, she found herself sinking. The distant sensation of her rings sliding off her finger should have alarmed her, but as unconsciousness closed in, she only had the bizarre notion that water wasn’t trying to drown her this time. It wrapped her in a calming blanket and kept her afloat.
The last thing Blake registered was the rumble of his deep voice. “Don’t worry, sparkles, I’ll keep your shinies safe.”
Chapter
Six
Blake opened her eyes to a strange room. Not a beach this time, but a bed in a small, curtained cubicle. It smelled like lemon and something heady. Every surface was bathed in a calm, pastel blue.
At the foot of her bed, a tattooed Guardian slouched in a chair with his head back, jaw slack, one arm dangling, and the other on his lap. His long leather-clad legs were sprawled with that instinctive dominance that men seemed born knowing how to claim. Asleep.
A bouquet of lavender sat in a vase on the side table. The same cracked vase from the markets. The same Guardian.
