Page 43 of Rogue Voice

He expects us to sleep out here.

“We will spend the night here. Rogue’s running a fever. We need to bring it down.”

“If my uncle find us, he’ll kill us.”

He’ll kill Rogue.

Somehow, that seemed the more intolerable thought. Rogue deserved to live.

“They won’t find us,” Slate said. Bea tried to take courage from the certainty in his voice. “I’ve been covering our tracks, and we’re heading in the opposite direction of the one they’d expect us to go in.”

“But where do we go afterwards? How will we get out of here? Any villages we go to, there will be people who are loyal to my uncle.”

“We’re not going to any villages. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be picked up by the helicopter.”

Helicopter? Just who the hell are these people?

Bea shook her head. It didn’t matter. They would save Rogue, and whatever happened to her afterwards was less important somehow.

“You okay?” he asked again. He was getting annoying with his questions.

Bea nodded. A lie, but she was good at lying. She’d been doing it for a long time. And the man wasn’t really asking her if she wasokay. He was asking if he could leave her alone with Rogue, or if she was going to break apart the moment he left.

“I’m okay,” she said firmly.

At some point, she was going to have to admit shewasn’tokay.

Her eyes scratchy with fear and lack of sleep, Bea dipped the warm rag with the only vaguely cooler water from her water bottle, using it to bathe Rogue’s forehead.

She’d been at it for hours now and, beyond a soft groan here or there, he hadn’t woken up or made a sound. In the soft light from the lantern hanging in one corner of the tent, his skin had an almost grayish tint.

The tent was small. Slate hadn’t come inside with them, and Bea had the feeling it was because he hadn’t wanted to crowd her.

Suddenly, Rogue stirred. For the first time since he’d lost consciousness, his gray eyes opened. Her heart hammered against her chest.

“Rogue!”

“Run … We have to run.”

He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down, careful with the bandages on his chest. Even in his weakened state, it took all her strength to keep him down. “Don’t try to get up. We’re safe. Slate is right outside.”

He blinked, and some of the haziness left his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Bea’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back quickly, overwhelmed by his concern.

“Slate got us out. He’s the one who carried you all this way.”

Rogue swallowed. “The priest. I remember.”

That has to be a good sign. That has to be—She didn’t get any further before Rogue pulled her forward until she was lying on top of him. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a cocoon of strength and safety.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, pressing his lips to hers. It was the softest pressure, but it made her tingle all the way down to her toes. She’d thought often of what her first kiss would feel like but, now that it was happening, there was no thinking—only feeling. Everything she was, everything she could ever be, suddenly distilled into a closeness with another human being that she’d never imagined possible.

His tongue licked softly around her lips. She gave a little sigh, and her lips opened reflexively, letting him in. Pleasure soared. Nothing—nothing—had ever felt this right before.

Emboldened by the pleasure, her own tongue found its way inside his mouth. She took her time exploring. Then he deepened the kiss, and she realized she wasn’t in control. This wasn’t like in the books she’d stolen from the library, where kisses were gentle and friendly. This was a furnace of desire, awakening—It took her a moment to realize the heat wasn’t just desire. Rogue was burning up.His fever.

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