Page 125 of Brushed By Moonlight
A crash sounded — part of the roof collapsing? — and another man yelled. “It’s too dangerous!”
“Just get them, dammit!” Dobrov ordered.
“Roux…” I called desperately.
He muttered and jiggled the rope. “Dammit…”
I gulped, trying to stay calm and evaluate my options.
“Hurry!” I yelled down the shaft, failing on both counts.
“I’m trying, dammit!”
Windows blackened, and flames weren’t just creeping, but engulfing the ceiling. I coughed a few times, then doubled over in a full-on coughing fit.
“Hurry!” Dobrov yelled to his men.
I wished Roux would, dammit.
Finally, the dumbwaiter lurched into motion and resumed its upward journey. I held my scarf over my mouth and eyed the ceiling. How long would it hold?
A beam creaked and shifted, setting off an avalanche of roof tiles. Some simply slipped into a new position, but others fell and slammed to the floor.
I looked around, growing panicked. This wasn’t a fire. It was an inferno.
The dumbwaiter creaked into position. I stood back, studying it, then the windows. Surely jumping out was a better option?
The flames blazed higher, cackling something like,Want to try, honey?
“Mina!” Roux called. And, yikes. Even he sounded panicked.
Okay, so no windows. I stuck my upper body into the dumbwaiter, then wiggled around.
“Hey!” I yelped when it started moving. “I’m not in yet.”
“No time,” Roux barked.
The guy was merciless, and my shins and knees banged four or five times. On the (very slim) plus side, that forced every appendage into the tiny space, and I was on my way.
On my way, but suffocating. I heaved for air, but the fire was busy consuming it. Henrik’s box poked into my belly, giving me even less space to breathe. My head started to swim, and my eyes watered. Or were those tears?
Both, probably. Tears for myself, tears for the paintings. Tears for my father, whom I’d failed, and my mother, who would be gutted if I didn’t survive this. Tears for—
Something clamped around my foot and yanked. I felt myself falling, then being lifted. Henrik’s box was pried out of my hand, and a faraway voice called.
Was I dying or getting rescued? If the former, I hoped I would at least get to see my father. If the latter… Well, I hoped my dress wasn’t up over my ass, revealing everything.
As it turned out, I was being rescued, and — big bonus — my dress wasn’t over my ass. Whew. I was bumping wildly, though, and upside down in a fireman’s carry. Gradually, I worked my way from coughing to flailing to pitiful protests, which my rescuer ignored.
Then there was a roar, and I was torn from Rescuer One’s arms and cradled in Rescuer Two’s. And just like that, everything stopped. The bumping. The coughing. The urge to fire off dozens of questions. I sank into a warm, fluffy cloud, feeling totally, utterly at peace.
“Mm,” I murmured, nuzzling my rescuer.
If it had been Roux or Bene, I would have been really embarrassed. If it had been Henrik, I would have been downright traumatized.
But, whew. It was Marius. And even if we hadn’t yet figured out where the undeniable pull between us was leading, I knewone thing. I’d never felt safer or more grounded than when I was with him.
“Are you all right?” His obsidian eyes glinted anxiously.
