Page 39 of King of War

“Rayne.” My voice is rough, too sharp around the edges. “Do you have your epi-pen with you?”

Her eyes roll back in her head.

Panic claws up my throat, but I shove it down because panic won’t save her. Anything but action is useless to her right now.

I tap her cheek, hard enough to drag her back but not enough to hurt. “Rayne, stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Do you have your epi-pen?”

Her lashes flutter. She blinks once, slow and terrifying, then gives the faintest nod.

“In your purse?”

Another nod. Barely there.

“Hold on I’ll be right back. Do you hear me? Hold on.”

She can’t answer, but the fear in her eyes is enough to have me moving faster than thought. I tear down the hallway to her room, my blood roaring so loud I can barely hear my own footsteps. Her purse is on the bed. I grab it and dump the entire contents across the sheets, hands clumsy for the first time in years.

Where the fuck is it?

Lip gloss. Wallet. Tampons. Keys. Receipts. My hands knock everything aside, too rough, too frantic. The seconds feel too long. Every one of them stolen from her. Every one of them another barrier between Rayne and breathing.

There it is.

I snatch the epi-pen and run back to the kitchen, praying to a God I haven’t spoken to in years that I’m fast enough. When I drop to her side again, her lips are turning blue.

“No, no, no.” The words come out of me without permission. My palm skims over her thigh, searching for the thick muscle of her quad. I position the pen, hand steady only because it has to be. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

I inject her and hold it there, counting each second like a prayer. One. Two. Three. Too slow. Too fucking slow.

Then I wait.

I’ve waited in dark alleys for men to bleed out, and sat for long hours in hot cars waiting for orders to come. Even waited outside hospital rooms with my brothers’ blood drying on my hands. But I have never hated waiting more than I hate it now, kneeling beside her, listening for the next breath like it’s the only sound worth hearing in the world.

Come on, baby.

Finally, her chest lifts a little deeper. The next breath is shaky, ragged, but it comes. Then another. Her lips slowly lose that terrible blue tinge, returning to the rose-pink color I remember far too well. The flush of her cheeks starts to creep back in, faint but there.

Air rushes out of my lungs. “Fuck, Rayne.”

I fall back onto my ass because my legs suddenly don’t feel like they belong to me.

She lies beside me on the cool floor, curled into herself, still panting, her body trembling with the aftershocks. A single tear leaks from the corner of her eye and slides into her hairline. That one tear guts me more efficiently than any knife ever could. And I forget every harsh word we’ve ever said to each other. Every lie. Every betrayal. None of it matters.

Instinct takes over.

I pull her up and into my arms, settle her between my thighs and hold her there, one arm locked around her waist, the other smoothing damp dark hair back from her face. She doesn’t fight me. Maybe she can’t. Maybe, for once, neither of us has the strength.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur again, quieter this time. I hold her until her breathing evens out. Until the tremors fade.

She buries her face against my chest and sniffs.

I rest my lips on the top of her head. “What happened?”

She holds out her forearm, and I see the angry red spot for the first time. “A bee.”

I glance up at the open window and frown. The weather during Nevada spring is hotter than hell, which is why I have the best AC money can buy, so why is the window open? “Did you open the window?”

She nods. “To let the bee out. I don’t know how it got in here. Maybe through a vent or something, or it flew in when I was on the roof earlier?”