His to Defend - Em Petrova Page 0,9
thing, yet he’d somehow escaped the wreckage before the explosion. The reek of burning rubber and oil still lay thick on the back of her sinuses. She wished she could rub her nose or sneeze in order to gain a breath of fresh air.
With her arms aching from holding on to his waist, she let them slip down his body to ease the muscle fatigue.
“Where are we going?” She tried to get her bearings, but the roads all resembled each other in this region. When she plied her brain, she had no memory of leaving the racetrack. Her mind felt like a layer of leaked oil slicked over it.
“Pierre, where are we going? What’s happening?”
“Be still. I’ll talk to you when we stop.”
A shiver ran through her. She closed her eyes against the world speeding by her vision and tried to control her breathing. Motion sickness overwhelmed her in a wave, and she had to open her eyes and breathe shallowly until it eased.
What felt like an hour passed, while she had no sense of time or reality anymore. And the more she pressed her face to Moreau’s spine, the more she wondered how she’d missed seeing the thick muscle stacked on the man’s body. Under the stench of the fire he’d barely escaped, she detected a hint of his personal musky scent. She didn’t recall that from Pierre either, and she and her client kissed in greeting every day they met.
Her arms quivered, and her thigh muscles too. She exercised, and she had enough stamina for most outdoor games or long treks. However, staying upright on this motorbike while they sped away at speeds she didn’t wish to know made her muscles ache.
The green landscape flew by. After several minutes, she realized she could see the details easier—they’d slowed down.
A small hamlet flashed by, and she spotted a landmark she recognized. She didn’t come to the countryside nearly often enough, but she’d been here before.
He geared down again and took a corner. The cobblestoned street bumped underneath their tires, and she clung more tightly to his middle.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“Plain sight.” His answer made no sense. His tone also made her wish she could see his face.
He stopped the motorbike and planted his legs to stabilize it. “You can get off now, Lillian.”
She did, quivering from her ordeal. She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled despite the warmth of the day, and watched him climb off the bike.
Without looking at her, he took her by the elbow and led her across a small gravel courtyard with a stone water fountain and flowers in fat clay pots. He opened the door and led her inside.
The place smelled as though it had been closed up for some time. She turned to stare at him.
“I want you to stay right here while I take care of some business.”
She blinked. “I-I don’t understand what’s—”
He gave a harsh shake of his head. “Trust me. I’ll explain more in a bit.” He walked over to the side of the room where a bar cart stood with glass bottles of alcohol. He poured her what appeared to be a sherry and returned to hand her the glass. Her fingers brushed his, and she realized how cold she was in comparison.
Searching his face, she tried to put her finger on the changes she saw in him as well as figure out what the hell was happening.
He watched her for a moment as she steadied the glass and brought it to her lips. A sip of the alcohol burned her palate and slipped down her throat, into her belly, providing her the only comfort she could cling on to.
He left the room. She walked to the window and peeked through the thin curtains at the courtyard. No traffic came down this remote street, and she felt better knowing that.
Long minutes later, she heard the back door open and close. She followed the sound through the country home and saw a door off the kitchen that probably led to a garden. Glancing up, she saw Pierre’s broad shoulders through the window.
Her insides hadn’t stopped quaking, and she took the liberty to find the bathroom. The home’s simple design echoed her parents’ home, and she took a measure of comfort from that. As she brought cold water up to splash on her hot cheeks, she froze. Her chest seized even as her bowels turned to water.
Jelly-like forms resembling skin lay on the vanity top…in the exact hue of