Midnight's Kiss(47)

He clenched them into fists. Then he went to complete the job she’d started on demolishing the frame of her cot.

Within a few moments, he had snapped off two of the remaining three legs to use as stakes. He paused to look around. Aside from the cot and the blanket, there was virtually nothing else in the bleak cell. She really had pulled off a couple of miracles, with very little to work with.

There was a fresh scar on the rock at the back wall, and he strode over to investigate the spot. It was where the bullet from Anthony’s gun had struck. Julian rubbed the area with the ball of his thumb. She was so damn lucky the asshole had chosen to give her a warning and not shoot her outright, and doubly lucky that she hadn’t been hit by the ricochet.

Turning away, he picked up the blanket and the thin mattress. After tearing a strip of cloth from the edge of the blanket, he rolled the bedding into a tight bundle and tied it with the strip.

Now it was Melly’s turn to ask him, “What are you doing?”

He glanced at her. “We have no idea how big this tunnel system is, or how complicated it might be. We also have no idea where we are in it, so we don’t know how long it’s going to take for us to find our way out. If we need to take a break and rest, it’ll be a lot more comfortable to do it on a mat than on bare stone.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I hadn’t thought of that. When I first broke out of my cell, the tunnel system seemed pretty big.”

“I’m not surprised.” He walked back into the cell where he’d been chained. “If this is anything like the other tunnel system, some of it is natural, but Justine’s definitely added to it over the years. This area and these cells are man-made.”

“I hate her so much.” She popped the last of the sandwich in her mouth and peeled a banana. “I’m not used to hating somebody that passionately. I hope I get to see her turn to dust.”

The drawn, tight look to her features had eased, and a healthy flush of color banished the paleness from her golden skin. Squatting beside her, he opened the bag to look inside. There were more bottles of water, chocolate bars, a bag of granola mix, some single-portion packages of cheese, a couple more sandwiches wrapped in the distinctive paper of a well-known deli in San Francisco, another banana and a few apples.

“Look at that,” he said. “He really brought you good food.”

She said bitterly, “I guess this was supposed to be my reward for doing whatever he wanted.”

Julian met her gaze. Letting go of the bag, he stroked her hair off her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I have such extreme, conflicting urges,” he murmured. “I still need to tear him limb from limb, but at the same, I also wish you could have gotten the chance to stake him twice. Because damn, Melly, now that I know you’re all right and my heart isn’t going to explode out of my chest, I can tell you, it was a mighty fine thing to witness what you did.”

Leaning against him, she sniffed. “I done good, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” He laid his cheek on top of her head, and they rested together like that for a few minutes, without words of anger or pain spoiling the air between them.

There was, however, plenty of sexual tension. He would have to be truly dead not to notice the way her soft, plump breast felt as it pressed against his bare chest, or the way her fingers curled around his bicep as he stroked her hair.

But it was a tension he held under strong control. Not that long ago, she had been in tears, and he still had a pack of ferals to kill.

That left room for her words to come back to him.

I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.

No matter what you might think of me, or what anybody else might have said, I always keep my promises.

She had made promises to him before. Not forever promises or formal vows — they hadn’t gotten that far in their relationship — but still, she had said things that he had internalized and relied upon. And he had believed her when she had said them.

If keeping her promises meant so much to her, why hadn’t she kept those promises she had made to him then?

It felt excruciating to have Julian hold her, to kiss her on the forehead, to stroke her hair. Melly felt as if she were the one who was being staked, as a heavy nail of pain drove into her heart. Worse, she welcomed the pain, just so that she could feel his arms around her again.

Any moment now, she was going to get a spine and reject his overtures, but not just yet, not when he held her with such evident, overabundance of care, as if she were a person who had incalculable value to him.

Then she did something dumb. She closed her eyes and pretended the last twenty years had never happened, and that all of the emotions she felt for Julian were strong, bright, shining and true.