I wanted them by my side when I introduced Nila to Hawksridge and showed her that this place had not been kind to her, but once it was mine, it would be our private haven.
Come. Faster. Run.
My heart thundered with erratic syncopation.
Nila skidded down the small incline, the flash of glittery ballet flats catching moonshine.
Every step brought her closer. I sighed heavily. The throb from my rib faded; the twinge from my newly removed stitches disappeared. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, I felt truly healed. My body had mended, but without her, my soul would’ve been torn forever.
Trading grass for cobblestones, Nila’s shoes slapped quietly, closing the distance between us. Her breathing wheezed—as if she’d been sick but healing—and her hood hid her stunning long hair.
My skin sparked as she sprinted around the mounting block and sailed through the double doors of the stables.
Finally.
I grabbed her.
She screamed as my arms snaked around her, trapping her vibrating form, saying hello with echoing heartbeats. Spinning her in my hold, I planted both hands on her hips and walked her backward to the wall.
I never stopped moving.
Pushing, shoving, coming fucking apart at having her in my arms.
Her eyes met mine. Her fright disappeared, consuming me under an avalanche of love. “Oh, my God...it’s true...you’re here.”
I smiled, opening myself completely. I fed off her happiness, loving how deeply she cared for me. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t deserve such unconditional acceptance. But something shadowed her. She felt...different...quieter. She didn’t have her usual spark or vibrant will.
My soul growled at the thought of her fading from me.
I’d bring her back.
I will.
Her back hit the brick wall, my hands soared from her hips to her cheeks, and nothing else fucking mattered. “Christ, I’ve missed you.” Ducking my head,I captured her mouth in a brutal kiss.
Live for me. Breathe for me. Come back to life for me.
My lips bruised with how hard I kissed her. I hadn’t meant to be so rough, but Nila exploded. The passion and ferocity missing inside her suddenly detonated into being.
I groaned as her hands disappeared into my hair, grabbing fistfuls, yanking me closer. She melted and fought; her tongue shooting into my mouth.
She whimpered as my kiss turned violent, driven by the need to affirm that this was real. That she was truly in my arms and still fighting, still surviving.
Our heads tilted, changing the kiss’s direction. Her fingers tugged harder on my hair. I kissed her deeper.
“You’re here.” I poured words with kisses, not knowing if I spoke or yelled it from my soul. “Fuck...you’re truly here.”
Her tongue swirled with mine, her chest pressing hard as she sucked in rapid breaths. My side ached but nothing would stop me from kissing her until we passed out from pleasure.
She’d returned to me, but she was still quiet inside, still hesitant and unsure.
“I’m here.” She kissed faster. “You’re alive.” Her fingers dug firmer. “God, Jethro...you’re okay.” Her voice broke, and the world ceased to exist.
It was just taste and love and heat.
The dam of her emotions drowned me, and I cried out as she reincarnated in my arms. Fuck, I’d missed her. Fuck, I’d worried about her.
But she was alive.
