Page 52

Zevran opens the rear door for me, and the interior yawns darkly.

The leather smell and cold air-conditioning spill out to envelop me. I glimpse a man sitting in the front seat, even bigger and broader than Zevran, with a black shirt fitted across his massive shoulders. I can only see the back of his head and one tattooed hand on the wheel, a heavy silver watch circling his wrist.

My skin prickles, and a cold sensation slams into my stomach.

Suddenly, I’m not standing on the pavement outside my building anymore. I’m on an unfamiliar street, being surrounded by tattooed strangers who are forcing me into the back of a van. My hands are zip-tied behind my back. There’s a blindfold I keep blinking helplessly against. Someone is crying. The floor is moving beneath us, and I don’t know where we’re going. Through the drug haze, I dread what happens when we stop.

I choke on my breath and take a frantic step back from the open door. My spine hits a solid, wall-like chest.

“Cora?”

My vision tunnels, going black and fuzzy at the edges. My heart is slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. I know logically that I’m standing on a sunny street and not being forced into that van, but my body hasn’t got the message yet.

“They didn’t even give me a chance to scream,” I say in a shaking whisper.

In an instant, Zevran’s hands are on my shoulders, turning me slowly, deliberately, until I’m facing him rather than the open door. He steps right into my space, using his massive breadth to completely block the street and the whole terrifying world from my sight. I look up at his face instead.

“Focus on my voice,” he commands softly, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “Just me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I don’t know if it’s my pulse racing too fast or the overwhelming safety of his closeness, but I find myself talking.

“I—I didn’t understand what was happening until it was already done. There was a cold sting in my neck, and then I was tied up in the dark.” I’m staring into Zevran’s eyes, which are locked on mine with burning, absolute intensity. “We were moving. The van was rattling, and so, so dark. They kicked us if we cried too loudly. Like we were inconvenient.”

His hands on me tighten ever so slightly. His breathing is rough and uneven.

“My hands went numb from the zip ties. I kept trying to get the feeling back into them, but it wouldn’t come.” I stop and swallow hard.

Zevran doesn’t say anything, and his jaw is so tight that I wonder if he’s grinding his teeth to dust. I recognize the look on his face. I’ve spent years flinching from a man’s anger. Except this time, it isn’t aimed at me.

“When I came back, Troy—” My mouth works, but I can’t make the words come. Zevran saw the fresh bruises on my face and arm. “He didn’t ask me any questions. He barely seemed to notice I was gone, except that his breakfast wasn’t cooked.”

“Printsessa,” he says in a low growl.

I look up at him, my lips parting.

“When you left me in that gas station,” he says, his eyes glowing fiercely, “I thought about nothing except getting you back.”

My chest tightens.

“Do you know how I found you?”

I shake my head wordlessly.

“I had no clue who you were. No name. No missing person’s report. No phone number or address. So I did the only thing I could think of. I drove back and forth across this city looking for a blonde woman wearing a cast. I drove for days. Every street. Every park. I searched the malls. The supermarkets. I was at my wit’s end.”

Tears sting my eyes.

“And then I saw it. My car. You parked it outside your building. I couldn’t believe my eyes. After that, it took only another twenty minutes of knocking on doors asking about you to find you.”

At some point in the last few moments, I’ve reached for Zevran. My hands are clenched tightly in the fabric of his shirt. I can feel the strength of him, the heat of him. How unshakably solid he is, and how much I don’t want to let go.

He’s not golden-haired. He’s not wearing white. There is absolutely no horse. The hands holding me have done unimaginable things, but standing here on this sidewalk, sheltered against his chest with the darkness of that car behind me and his pale eyes on my face, I don’t care about any of that.

He felt it when I was gone.

He came for me.

From the front seat, the big man says, “You should have seen the state of him when he lost you. I thought he was going to burn the whole city down. Take pity on the poor bastard.”