I coughed against the soaked skirt of my dress, unable to form the words I needed. But Hallum had already made senseof the situation, his eyes taking in every detail of the scene and processing it with incredible speed. In less than a second, he was in the burning room with me. He grasped my shoulders and shoved me down on one knee.
“Get your head as low as you can,” he ordered me, “below the smoke!”
I bent as far as I could, pressing my face low, keeping the skirt over it. He gripped my boot and pulled, but it refused to come loose.
The heat was incredible. My fear morphed. It was less panic now, and more pure dread. An ominous terror that told me I might die here.
Hallum gave up on trying to yank my heel free with sheer force. Instead, he shifted his attention to the zipper, something I’d been too terrified to even think of doing myself. But the zipper snagged, or maybe it was melting in the heat.
“Blast!” He hissed. His eyes were narrowed slits of white concentration.
“Just leave it!” I cried. I banged on his chest. “Just leave me!”
The fire was all around us. The roof shuddered and groaned, like the flames were too heavy to hold up.
I would die if anything happened to him.
“Foolish!” he snapped.
And he was so fucking right. I was foolish. I’d lit the stupid candles. I’d worn these stupid boots.
I’d hoped that maybe one day he could love me.
But when he continued speaking, that wasn’t what he said at all.
“A blasted foolish thing to say, Lualhati!” His eyes were brighter than the flames. “How could you not know by now? How could you not know that I would burn alive before I’d ever leave you?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I could barely even see him now. I only just made out the knife when he whipped it from his belt. I thought he might try to slice the boot off of me, and prepared myself to bleed in the process. The leather was so tight, so close to my skin. But it would be worth it if we both got out of here alive.
Except he didn’t cut the leather. Instead, he used the knife like a hammer, smashing the blade down over and over again on the floorboard until, with a merciful splintering, it all gave way.
I didn’t even have time to try to stand up. He gathered me in his arms and sprinted for the door.
The fresh, cool air felt like a punch. My skin stung. My lungs struggled to draw breath. I tried to let go of the skirt but couldn’t. It was like my hand was fused into the shape of a fist.
Hallum didn’t stop running until we’d reached the garage. He kicked open the garage door with a huge, booted foot, then activated the ambulance entrance so that it slid open on its own.
The next thing I knew, I was laid down on the stretcher. Hallum forced one of my eyelids open, then the other, spraying both eyes with a stinging substance. He didn’t let me flinch away, holding my head ruthlessly still as he administered what I knew was the ambulance’s burn spray kit. It could soothe skin and eyes on contact, healing damage almost instantly.
A second later, plastic was cupped over my nose and mouth.
“Deep breath,” he ordered me.
I tried to thrash away from the mask. It was attached to a can of NanoRescue – a nano-healing tech that, when breathed in, could do everything from clear away cancerous cells to curing smoke inhalation damage. The nano particles were so tiny that they could even enter the blood stream via lung tissue and begin unbinding carbon monoxide molecules from red blood cells, allowing oxygen to function properly in the body after CO exposure.
We only had three small cans of the stuff, and it was incredibly expensive. I couldn’t believe we were wasting some of it on me.
“Deep breath!” he said again, sharper this time. “Blast it all to Zabria and back! Breathe for me, Lualhati! Now!”
He was holding my head in place again. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do but follow his orders and breathe.
I hadn’t realized how much my throat had started closing up, or how much my chest ached, until the NanoRescue got in there and immediately started on repairs. My eyes felt better, too, and I could see clearly now.
Hallum leaned over me, his face just above my own. His skin was streaked with ash and soot. I lifted a shaky hand, touching his darkened cheek.
His white eyes shut, and he leaned into my touch. Then, he turned his face slightly. His lips brushed my palm, lightly at first. It could have been mistaken for an accident.
Until he did it again. Purposefully. Maybe even reverently.
