Page 76 of The Garnet Daughter
I scream his name again, tears blurring my vision but flushing out the grit I am kicking up in the messy path I take.
He holds his cuffed wrist over the man’s body and suddenly they fall away, unlocking with whatever method the guard had within his armor. He slings a large weapon to his back, the strap coming across his chest, and steals a smaller one from the guard’s hip.
Suddenly he is sprinting toward me. “Calliape!”
My teeth dry in the hot air, unable to keep myself from smiling. My normally strong legs, weakened from dehydration, slow me to an agonizing pace.
He pauses briefly to aim and fires a couple streaks of light behind him at a third soldier. Another is cut down as swiftly as he appears from the ship.
August sprints, jumping over boulders and glancing back to check for more assailants.
Another soldier, more cunning than the other, hides at the edge of the cargo hull and ducks below debris.
August misses him when he glances back, shooting with less precision the faster he runs.
He’s still so far, but I can see the whites of his teeth in an all-out grin, enjoying this far too much. The sand around him kicks up in scattering waves with each powerful pump of his long legs, driving him forward to get to me.
With my next step, I fold the distance across the valley toward him.
I crash into his chest, taking my breath away, and as my feet touch the ground, I pull backward, folding us back up the ridge to safety.
The messy fold is in such quick succession that his back slams into a wall of rock, taking the brunt of the impact.
“By the three worlds, Callia.” He groans a little and crumbles his face like the first time we folded and it made him sick.
“I had to. There was another First Son soldier. He was— He would have killed you! Are you alright?” I say so fast I don’t realize my hands roam over his chest and shoulders, as if he is not real and in front of me. “I saw the blood in the escape pod. I thought it was yours and then—then I saw you down there and—” Not a single sentence comes out right. I give in and take a gulping breath, winded as if I ran the distance to the valley and back.
He is silent, head tilted back on the rock wall behind him. His lids are hooded with what I assume is exhaustion. But still he regards me with such tenderness, searching my face and cupping it gently like something delicate, meant to be cherished.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe for an entirely different reason.
And then he leans down, pressing his lips to mine, holding me by my jaw and angling it upward to meet him.
He breaks away, his eyes flicking down to my lips where every nerve ending is firing and sending my whole body into a frenzy.
A cold spot blanches on my face where he held it so sweetly. I would protest if I could speak, but I’m so stunned I wait for him to say something, to say anything at all. But he watches me, waiting to see if that was alright for him to do.
When I remain silent, he clears his throat and tries to move around me, perhaps thinking he made a mistake and I am rejecting him again.
My hand snaps out, gripping his forearm, and First Mother save me, I tug him toward me.
He crashes into my body, responding to that small pull in a way my too loud mind will not let me linger on. My brain goes fuzzy and warm when his hands go around my waist and he kisses me again. This time deeper, faster, and all-consuming.
The moment I part my lips, his tongue invades, sweetly stroking against mine like he thought he would never see me again.
His hands are everywhere, gripping my waist, moving up my back and fisting my hair, somehow deepening the kiss even more. I whimper in his arms, pleasure mixed with relief that we found each other, that we are alive. And at this moment, I’ve never been as full of life as I am pressed against him.
I’m released from his clutch on one side as his arm leaves me and rises next to us. Our kiss slows slightly, no longer desperate and hungry.
The click and whirling sound of his gun engaging makes me open my eyes, startled to find his are already open and fixed on a target behind my back even as he still kisses and nips at my lips. Staring at the danger but not willing to break away from me.
I spin in his arms, pressing my back to his chest, anticipating the remaining First Son soldier.
Sav stands with her palms revealed but without panic on her face.
“August, it’s ok! She helped me.” I put my hand on his forearm. “She’s a friend.”
It’s a stretch, but explaining the complicated arrangement we struck up won’t help. And even though I thought I heard her running away when she said she would help me, I still do not want her to be harmed.
