Unable to counteract his strength, I backed into the nearest tree, hearing its roots groan in protest as William pressed into me, never backing down, only growing more urgent. His hands moved nowhere but my face, cupping and stroking every plane.
When I was certain I could face death at this very moment with absolutely no regrets, his mouth left mine, but only barely. His heavy breath was the next thing I felt pulsing against my lips.
“Like I said, I didn’t know what to say,” he breathed, his eyes closed, but his face was drawn into an emotion that made the past few months seem like nothing more than a bad dream.
“Thanks for not knowing what to say.” I smiled, letting the euphoria he’d injected into me seep into every corner of my body. Everything was right again. I was right again.
The muscles in his shoulders rolled. “I think that pretty much summed it up.”
“So was that a yes?” I asked.
“To your do-over?” he said, no attempt to disguise his amusement.
I nodded my head.
“No,” he said, and before my face could squish into confusion, “that was a hell yes.”
I laughed at his enthusiasm. “Thank you. I won’t screw things up again for us—I promise,” I vowed.
“I know, I know,” he said, combing his fingers through my hair. “May I ask a favor?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
I heard the smile in his voice. “Just to make sure I have everything straight . . . you left because you loved me?”
It sounded awful coming from his mouth. “Yes.”
“You let me believe you were in love with Paul because you loved me?”
This sounded even worse. “Yes,” I answered, grimacing.
“You stayed away because you thought I was in love with a girl Patrick fabricated in that demented mind of his?”
“Yes.”
“You realized how absurdly you were acting, found me, seduced me into this state of mental stupification,”—he cradled my head away from his chest, staring me straight on—“because you love me?”
“Yes, although I have to admit I’m the poster child for what not to do to show someone you love them.”
He shook his head. “You’re not only the poster child, love, you wrote the book on the subject.”
“That so?” I asked, trying to sound severe. My execution was pitiful. “Why don’t you try putting yourself in my shoes for a minute? Let’s say you were the one that practically killed me and you knew that if you didn’t that time, you would another time. Are you going to tell me you wouldn’t do the exact same thing I did?”
“First off, it wasn’t your fault you zapped me. I should have been paying attention. Second, you didn’t almost kill me. It was about as lethal as a bee sting—”
“Bee stings kill,” I interrupted. “Just ask those that are allergic to them.”
“Baby,” he said, his voice low. “I’m everything but allergic to you.” His fingers trickled down my neck, skimming the length of my tank’s collar. Heat rushed through me, the kind that extinguished inhibitions. Right before I took action at my newfound lack of inhibitions, his fingers dropped away.
“You’re as good at distracting me as you are at fudging the truth,” I said, arching a brow at him. “If you’re planning on keeping your hands to yourself for awhile”—I glanced at his hands that were being good, for now—“how about getting back to putting yourself in my shoes?”
“Well, if you’d stop interrupting . . .” He shot me that mischievous smile and it took every bit of willpower I possessed to not latch onto him at every point I could. “No, I wouldn’t have left you if our roles—or our gifts—were reversed. I’m too selfish. Death, as hard as this is to admit, would be an acceptable outcome if it meant not having to miss out on this”—his stilled hands became anything but, skimming my body with the patience and practice of a sculpture—“and this,” he breathed, his lips gliding up my neck, ending just behind my earlobe.
“When you put it that way,” I whispered, my voice shaking marginally less than my body.
I felt his smile pull tight against my skin. “In addition to being adept at distraction, I also have a black belt in persuasion.”
“You don’t say.” He nuzzled my neck before moving towards my mouth again, the look in his eyes telling that he was done with words. “So, that’s it?” I asked, a shade shy of astonishment. “You forgive me, just like that? After everything I did?”
“Yes,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe you didn’t understand when I said I’d love you forever, but I meant I’d love you forever. There were no qualifiers or addendums to that vow, nothing that would void it out based on your actions.” His smile lit up the night. “To make sure you’re clear on this, let me repeat myself. I’ll love you forever, Bryn Dawson, no matter how determined you might be to screw it up.”
“No conditions?” I asked. “Not even, just as long as you don’t run away again with a fictitious boyfriend?”
He shook his head. “I think that’s why they call it unconditional.”
“Yeah, well, what I’ve seen of the world, love is about as conditional as it is convenient. Thrown around on a Saturday night only to be forgotten by Monday morning, or worse yet, we’ve been together for a year and we should probably scratch that three word phrase off our relationship to-do list.”
“You’ve got such romantic notions,” he said, drawing me back into his arms. “So, I want to let bygones-be-bygones, but . . .”—a flash of anger bolted through his eyes—“I recall finding you and Paul Lowe entangled a few nights ago, your lips the main point of entanglement.” I loved how hard William worked to keep unpleasant emotions out of his voice, but he was as adept at it as I was at walking and talking.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t hang around long enough to see me come very near to wringing his neck,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. “You remember those nine forms of torture you were so eager to try out on him? Well, after that stunt, let the torture games begin,” I teased, no room for anger towards Paul left when I was cocooned in William’s arms. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“I don’t know what it is you don’t see in Paul Lowe, but I’d be a fool if I wasn’t glad about it.” He didn’t sound glad—he sounded thrilled. “But now that I know he basically held you down and ravaged your lips, I’m not so sure about him myself anymore.”
“Can we not talk about Paul? I don’t want to talk about anything besides promising we’ll never leave each other’s sides again,” I said, my words muffled by his chest. “And I mean that in the literal sense.”
“Not to get technical, but I’m not the one who has broken that promise, my love.”
I winced, wishing he wasn’t right. “Don’t remind me, but here’s the thing I realized. Call it an epiphany. The world wants us dead whether we’re together or not. If I’m going to be chased by death . . . forever, I want you at my side.”
He rung his arm around my neck, kissing the top of my head. “As optimistic as you are romantic. But I’ll take whatever epiphany you have if it means you’ll never run away again.”
“I know you’ve heard this before, but yes, I promise. I’d rather die with you than all alone.”
“And I’d rather live with you than all alone.”
“Point taken, Mr. Glass Half-Full.”
“So while I’m getting things off my chest,”—I took a death breath, I needed this one—“I only said I didn’t want to run away with you because I was scared of what would happen to you. I could give a crap if we get the blessing of a bunch of crabby, decrepit old men. If you want to run away . . . anytime would be good for me, including two seconds from right now, and—”
His lips were on mine again, smashing and smoothing against them like waves breaking on the sand. Lost in the mind-dumbing fog that was William’s mouth, I was aware of nothing else, least of all the rustling of hurried footsteps coming behind me.
“Move,” William shouted against my mouth suddenly, pushing me to the side before leaping headfirst into the jungle wall in front of him.
I righted myself, tumbling through the green wall hot on his heels.
“What are you doing here?” he snarled, dropping someone to the ground. “Who are you?” His fingers choked around the wide-eyed woman’s neck.
She was Immortal, the pale blue hue in her eyes and stunning beauty giving that away, but her face was unfamiliar. It was a face that one would remember, too. She could have been the offspring of Malibu Barbie and GI Joe—so pretty she was shiny, almost sparkly, but there was a toughness about her, like her aura’s motto was, I’m kicking butt and taking names . . . with a machine gun and crew cut if need be.
She looked more scared than surprised, like a mouse expecting a scrap of cheese only to fetch a trap. Her eyes flew from William to me, but she didn’t put up a fight.
“He asked you a question,” I said, coming around her from the other side. “I’d advise you answer it. Soon.”
She pinched her eyes closed, shaking her head feverishly.
I crouched down, placing my face right over hers. William tensed, but I didn’t back away. I’d proven somewhere along the way that I was more than capable of taking care of myself and just because my selfless protector was back in my life didn’t mean I was going to sideline that enlightened state of me. “Who. Sent. You?” I’d also, as of late, perfected the don’t-mess-with-me tone.
Her eyes flashed into mine. “He’ll kill me . . .”
“Well, that pretty much answers that,” I said, looking at William, knowing he’d arrived at the same conclusion I had. “Seems John just can’t get over killing me.”
“We didn’t know you were here,” she said, rushing over each word. “We came for him.” Her black-lined eyes fell to William and something of a blush seemed to color her cheeks. Unbelievable . . . he could manage to fluster a woman even as he was threatening her.
“There are more of you?” I asked, willing her to look back at me. I was a little territorial when it came to other woman ogling him. That was my job. “How many more?” My gaze flicked to the dark forest behind us, half-expecting a replay of a few nights back in Germany.
“A couple dozen or so,” she said, her lower lip shivering. “They sent me to scout things out first. To see if anyone else was with you.”
William’s face fell. “Do you know if any more parties like yours have been sent after my family?”
“No,” she answered, not able to look him in the eyes. “John wanted you to be the first.”
A sound that was all rage escaped from my throat.
“How long do we have?” William asked, glancing at me nervously.