He doesn't wait for me to respond. He leans down and scoops me into his arms, picking me up like I weigh nothing. My heart nearly explodes.
He smells as good as he looks, and it does strange things to my body again.
"Wait," I say, trying to get my mind to focus. "I'll come with you, but please let Sarah go."
"I never said this was up for negotiation," he replies.
I clutch the collar of his shirt, forcing him to look at me.
"Please," I say. "It's me you want, not her. Let her go."
Locking eyes with him feels like succumbing to gravity. We've been orbiting each other, and now I'm being sucked into a black hole.
The drug in my veins is distorting everything. The truth, my thoughts, my sanity.
Before I know what's happening, he throws me to the ground. He flattens his body over mine.
Scents war in my head.
Smoky oud. Hydrangeas. Sea salt.
But all of it is overpowered by something far more nefarious—the dark, metallic tang of blood.
7
DANTE
When the red dot of the sniper rifle appears on her chest, I don't stop to think.
I act out of pure instinct.
Before the bullet can leave the firearm, I throw her to the ground and cover her body with mine. Someone screams, but it isn't Grace.
It's her friend, the girl with the number tattooed on her wrist.
"Get down," I scream at her. "Body flat against the ground. And cover your ears."
I twist my body, using my free hand to return fire. The attackers are two men riding a motorcycle, both wearing helmets and bulletproof vests.
My own men spring into action, firing back at the intruders. They leave as fast as they appeared, completely unharmed.
I want to hunt them down, but I also don’t want to leave Grace’s side.
I quickly scan my men. Two of them are hurt, but none of the injuries appear to be serious.
I brace my hands on either side of Grace's head and lift my body. She's staring up at me with wide eyes and parted lips.
"You alright?" I ask softly.
Her eyes drop to my lips, growing unfocused yet again. Now that her face is inches from mine, it dawns on me that this isn't her natural state of being. Her pupils are blown. She's under the influence of something.
"Come on." I stand, scooping her into my arms once more.
She clutches my bicep and glances behind us. “What about Sarah?”
"She's not hurt either," I say. "The police will find her soon."
Grace shakes her head vehemently. "My mother wants me dead. That's why she sent people to kill me. They've spotted Sarah, so they'll try to hurt her too."
