Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,92

was supposed to go down. Randall winced when pain arced from the base of his skull to the back of his right eye. Damn, he thought. Not this, not now.

It had been a while since he’d had a migraine, he realized. In fact… he hadn’t had one since that plane crash. Since the first time he’d seen his angel. What the hell? he wondered as he rubbed the top of his neck and then slid his glasses down a little so he could tightly pinch the bridge of his nose.

A sound behind him made him turn around. The medicine must have been working, because a little color had returned to the sick prisoner’s cheeks. But that same color could be seen much darker, spread across the bandages on her companion’s leg.

Randall made his way to the latter and stood beside her looking down. She had closed her eyes and her head had fallen back, again probably from exhaustion. But she opened her eyes when his shadow moved over her and stared up at him.

“Would you like me to remove the tape over your mouth?” he asked. He knew the answer, but asking the question reminded her that he was doing her a favor and she shouldn’t abuse the new freedom.

Her response was to narrow her gaze at him. But she nodded.

He was surprised, and he knew his expression showed as much. He reached up and pulled the stack of tape from her face. She barely winced when it separated from her skin, though he knew it had to hurt. When he was done, she licked her lips and leveled her gaze on him hard.

“I’m going to kill you,” she told him frankly.

He was quiet for a moment. Then Randall tossed the tape into the trash can beside Carmen’s chair and asked quietly, “Is that so?”

“It is,” she assured him with far too much calm. “But I’m not going to kill you for what you’ve done to me. I’m going to take your life for what you’ve done to my friends.”

From behind him came words spoken in a voice half asleep, “You tell him, mi sirenita.”

Randall’s eyebrow lifted. “My little mermaid?”

“Surfing,” Piper told him with zero inflection in her tone. Her eyes were still shooting daggers at him.

“I see.” He took a deep breath and glanced down at her leg. “Well, I have to tell you that I admire your loyalty.” He reached down to peel one part of the bandage back to re-check the wound. It was possible it needed stitches and he’d cut too deep. She’d been moving a lot when he’d done it, despite being tied down. His eyes raked over the marks, and something fluttered in his belly. “I also admire your skin. You’ve got good grain.”

On further inspection, he’d cut exactly as deep as he’d intended, and the cuts were clean. If she would only remain still and allow them to clot, they could heal quite nicely. And leave perfect, straight scars.

“If only I’d been allowed to get my hands on you sooner,” he thought out loud. “Might have spared one or two others.”

“You’re absolutely fucking insane,” she told him then, speaking the words with such low, acidic vehemence, they felt like audible poison. But he supposed he couldn’t blame her. This was the art room, after all. Photos of his creations were hung in frames along all four walls. Of course the only one he truly cared about was the one that wasn’t his. A photograph of her was hanging at the far end, long rose-gold tapestries flanking the gilt frame. It was the best one he had, the only photograph he’d managed to take of his angel that turned out so well. She was looking right at him.

It was also the last photo he’d taken before the wardens had gotten to him. They were very protective of her, and of course they should be. But they’d done things to him to keep him away from her. He knew it was something more than pressing charges and hitting him with restraining orders. He could feel the residuals of it in his brain. They’d done something to his mind to keep him away and keep her safe.

Or at least they’d tried. But Maze had saved him.

That’s right, he told himself. Victor Maze is the reason she’s going to be mine. Don’t forget that.

But being away from her had made him crazy inside. He so badly needed some aspect of her at close range… so he’d begun