Page 95 of Unveil
She shakes as she comes to me, chest heaving, blood and dirt streaking her skin. Her eyes are locked on mine, their glint as dark and twisted as the sensations thrumming in my veins and down to my cock.
I step toward her.
“Orion,” she whispers, swallowing, her voice carrying the same desperation flooding through me.
She’s alive. She’s mine.
I’m alive. I’m hers.
And it’s time to make that true.
I canfeelthat she’s about to ask me for what we need, the adrenaline riding us both.
She steps closer, trembling. “Please…”
“Fuck, baby.” I barely recognize my own voice. “Come here?—”
A guttural scream pushes us apart as another Wilde bursts from the tree line, followed by a second.
Shit.
I intercept the one going for her first, just as steel flashes in the other’s hand, and shove Luna behind me, roaring.
“Run!”
She hesitates for one brief second, until one of their daggers nicks me and I can’t afford to look at her anymore. Out of the corner of my vision, cherry cola curls vanish into the underbrush.
Good girl.
I turn back in time to see two blades mid-flight. There’s no time to think or dodge. There’s only a gleam of silver—then the sound of my own breath choking out of me.
Iflee like I’m being hunted, like something’s breathing down my neck, chasing me through the storm-ravaged forest. But the reality that I’m leaving Orion behind is so much worse. And then what happened with Benoit?—
Guilt squeezes my chest to the point I can barely breathe.
That’s why I’m doing this.That’swhy I’m running. I refuse to die when Benoit gave his life for me, making his sacrifice go in vain.
I hope Orion didn’t sacrifice himself for me too.
I can’t die. I can’t die. I can’t die.
Runrunrunrun.
Blood pounds in my ears louder than the thunder cracking overhead. Rain lashes my face, mixing with tears. One cheek still stings from that Wilde bastard’s slap, the other burns with shame for running instead of fighting. But I made a promise, so I grit my teeth and harness my frustration and turn it into determination.
No matter how hard I try to navigate the forest like Orion taught me, fear and hate make me reckless. I slip and stumblethrough mud and underbrush, one satin ballet flat clinging to my foot by sheer force of will, the other frayed to shreds, held together only by my ankle wrap of tulle. Adrenaline dulls the achy sprain enough to keep me moving.
At first, my own terror is all I hear—my pounding heartbeat, ragged breaths, and the chaotic slap of mud under my feet. But then the telltale pounding of boots joins in behind me. Steady. Determined. They slide with the grade instead of fighting it like my city feet do. I don’t know who it is. All I know is I have tofly. If it’s a Wilde, I can’t be caught.
If it’s Orion, he’ll catch me.
Please God, let him catch me.
Branches whip at my arms like they’re punishing me for leaving him behind. I welcome the sting, letting it scratch and tear into my flesh like a physical manifestation of my guilt.
Is he okay?
He was fighting off two Wildes when I left. I was dying to help, but they only got the jump on him because I distracted him. My aching need for him to touch me and prove we’re still alive and breathing was too much. He wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now if we’d stayed vigilant. So I did what I promised I’d do two nights ago.
