Page 83 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
The sand was in her ears, her mouth, her eyes. The silence of the forest echoed all around them.
“Please!” she begged, crying, suffocating, drowning in darkness. “Please!”
“Farewell, my love,” Xander crooned, smiling. “Give the devil my fond regards.”
He turned and disappeared back into the forest. The darkness swallowed her whole.
“Morgan!”
She jerked up in bed, gasping, her hand at her throat. Something touched her shoulder and she reeled, swinging blindly at it.
“It’s only me! Morgan! Wake up! It’s me!”
Xander had her by the shoulders, shaking her awake. It took a moment before her mind registered it, recognized his voice and his scent, then she threw herself into his arms, trembling.
“It’s all right,” he murmured,
holding her tightly against his chest. He sat on the edge of the mattress with his arms around her as she shook and blinked, trying to dispel the horrible feeling of doom. “You were having a nightmare. It was just a dream.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Just a dream. A thousand kisses deep.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I have to go out for a while.”
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. They were worried, tense, and suddenly she was, too. “Why? What is it?”
He drew a long breath, and she edged out of his arms and sat staring at him with the sheet rucked up between them. “Mateo and Tomás and...” His voice wobbled. He swallowed and then said, “Julian. There was a fight. Those other males—they’ve been caught.”
Morgan gasped. She drew the sheet up to her chin, the nightmare forgotten but a newer, darker dread taking hold. “Caught!”
He nodded, brushed a lock of hair from her forehead where it had fallen into her eye. “They’re being held at some kind of animal shelter close by. I have to go help them. You understand?
Bartleby’s coming with me. You’ll be here alone for...a while.” He swallowed again, looking pained.
“You don’t think...” she faltered, drew her knees against her chest and hugged her arms around them, “...you don’t think I’m going to run away, do you?”
He blinked, startled. “No. I know you won’t—I know I can trust you. I just can’t stand the thought of leaving you alone.” He licked his lips and his voice dropped. “I don’t want to be away from you.”
Her toes curled in pleasure. She allowed herself to wallow in it for a moment while they stared at one another. She hoped to remember someday what this felt like, wishing with all her heart some tiny echo of this feeling would last. Even the faintest memory of it could sustain her for all the dark years to come.
If she survived the next week, that is. Though they’d shared something here—something precious—he was still what he was. If she didn’t find the Expurgari...
That thought quashed the warm blossom of pleasure, and she looked away, heart pounding.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered.
He rose from the bed—he didn’t seem to notice her sudden paleness—and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her cheek. The cell phone on the dresser began to ring.
“I know you will.” He put a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted up her head so she had to look up into his face. “My fierce little warrior. But I’m not so sure I will be.” His eyes darkened, and for a moment he looked haunted. Pensive, somewhere far away, he trailed his thumb slowly over her lower lip. “God, Morgan,” he whispered, holding her chin, gazing down at her, “what you do to me.”
The cell phone kept ringing. He never looked away from her face.
“Go,” she urged, pushing his hand away. “Go get them. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He nodded, slowly backed away, then crossed the room and picked up the phone. He glanced at the number on the readout, then pocketed it with a dark sigh. He crossed to the door.
She said weakly, “Be careful.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and just looked back at her. His intense gaze trailed over her face, her hair, her bare shoulders and arms above the sheet. One corner of his mouth quirked, then he pulled the door open and walked out of the room.
