Page 4 of Veiled Vows

Such a thing feels alarmingly unfamiliar after this entire ordeal. The stranger scoops me into his arms fully this time, bridal style, and carries me through the compound with strict instruction not to look. An instruction I disobey by sneaking glances over his shoulder.

There are bodies everywhere. Not a single soul has been left alive, and while the sight should disgust me, I feel relief. Whoever these people were, they can’t hurt anyone ever again.

“Careful,” the man says as we approach a fire exit door covered in peeling red paint. “It’s cold outside.”

“What…What about the others?” I croak, sneaking a glance up at his gorgeous eyes. Eyes that beautiful must mean his face is utterly to die for, if only I could see it.

“I’m not here for the others,” he says firmly. “Someone else will take care of them.”

He came for me, and only me? Who the hell is he?

The door shoves open on creaky, rusty hinges, and as the first bitter gust of winter air washes over my body, the stranger tightens his arms around me. Such incredible warmth radiates from his body that the bitter cold air is just an afterthought, although I marvel at how he can wear so little in the depths of winter.

I want to keep staring at him, but as he trudges over the snow-covered ground, the weight of what happened begins to settle into my chest like a growing ball of pressure. Instead, I tuck my head under his chin and nuzzle into his throat where it’s the warmest.

I don’t know this man. I don’t know who he is or where he came from.

But I feel safe.

And that brings an entirely different wave of tears.

I’m sniffling and swallowing down sobs by the time we reach a sleek black car parked on the edge of the property, wherea man in a black suit holds open the door. Warmth and soft classical music waft from inside the vehicle, but the thought of leaving the safety of this man’s arms for a car feels daunting. Without thinking, I tighten my grip on the stranger’s arm.

“Don’t worry,” he says, dropping slowly down to his haunches and placing me into the back seat. “You are safe now. This car will take you back to your family, okay?”

Had I more strength, I would have said more to him, but the only thing that bursts past my trembling lips is, “Who are you?”

He doesn’t reply. He stands, pauses, and then leans down to press a fleeting kiss to my hairline. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Oh my God.

In that moment, an overwhelming crush explodes to life in my heart as the skin where his clothed lips pressed tingles from the contact. My heart races faster and faster as he leans away, steps back, and gently closes the door.

There’s a woman inside the car who I recognize as one of my mother’s assistants, but I barely register her even as she covers me with a blanket and rapidly assures me that I will be back with my parents at the hospital within thirty minutes.

My focus remains on my rescuer. He stands like a black knight in the snow with the wind whipping his hair in all directions, and his eyes fixed firmly on the car as we drive away.

I don’t know who he is, but I know one thing.

I’m going to marry that man.

2

JASMINE

Eleven years later

“Jasmine! Wake up! Your breakfast will be cold if you don’t hurry up!”

The frantic knocking of my maid’s knuckles against my door drags me, unwillingly, from my favorite dream—a dream about the stunning, gorgeous, mysterious man who saved my life eleven years ago. A man who appeared once and then completely vanished from the face of the earth. A man who’s left an ache in my chest for the past eleven years and a dream that one day we will be reunited. Then I can thank him for being the only person in my life to make me feel safe.

To make me feel like I have real worth.

“Go away,” I mumble into my pillow, tightening my arms around the cotton to revive some of the fluff it lost last night. “I’msleeping.”

“Chef made pancakes,” my maid teases.

I lift my head and glare groggily at the door. Do I want pancakes?

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