Page 7 of Esperance

Tam kicked the man’s cheek, knocking him back. The woman scrambled away from him, her white skirt spilling over the floor as she fought to gain her feet.

Amryn darted forward and grabbed Tam’s hand, jerking her up. “The door!” she gasped.

Tam was already running with her, but they’d only made it a few steps before Amryn’s skirt was snagged from behind. She barely managed to let go of Tam as she fell. Her knees slammed into the stone floor with jarring force, and then her chest hit, driving the rest of the air from her lungs. Her chin knocked off the stones, and her vision blurred.

Harsh fingers clamped down on Amryn’s ankle, and she was dragged backward.

Tam screamed.

Amryn couldn’t breathe as she was flung onto her back. The furious man straddled her, his knees digging into her hips.

Tam charged him, but one backhand sent her spinning to the ground.

Amryn was still dazed, but adrenaline rushed through her when the large man’s attention turned back to her, his dark eyes blazing. Rage, despair, desperation, pain—it all stabbed into her.

She thrashed beneath him, but the heavy skirt restricted her movements, and he pinned her easily. Once he had both of her hands manacled in one of his larger ones, he lifted his dagger, the tip aimed for her heart.

She didn’t have enough air to scream.

His body suddenly jerked. His hold on the knife clenched, but his body was already sagging. As he swayed, the knife slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor beside Amryn. His grip on her wrists loosened, and he slumped to the side.

Behind him stood Carver Vincetti. He held a bloody knife—not the table knife she’d last seen him with, but a dagger he must have taken from someone else. A scowl darkened his face as he stared down at her. “I told you to stay down.”

Amryn trembled. Her attacker was dying on the floor beside her. She could feel it. She kicked away from him, gasping for air as she scrambled backwards.

Carver’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, and Amryn cringed back.

He stilled at once, a furrow growing between his dark brows. “Are you all right?”

Her attacker expelled his last rattling breath, and the sudden loss of life—of all feeling—made Amryn double over.

She threw up on her new husband’s boots.

The fight was over. While guards called the room to order, Carver fetched a napkin so Amryn could wipe her mouth, and then he extended a hand to help her up.

He didn’t say anything about his boots. She hadn’t expected such courtesy, and for some reason it made her cheeks burn more than if he’d cursed her.

He studied her intensely, which only increased her blush. “Are you all right?” he asked again, his eyes boring into hers. “Did you hit your head?”

She swallowed hard, still tasting the acidic bile. “No.”

He eyed her chin.

She knew it must be red, because it was throbbing from hitting the floor. Her flush deepened. “I hit it a little,” she admitted. “But I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine. Her stomach still churned, and all she wanted to do was escape this room and all the emotions in it.

Carver looked like he might press the issue of her injury, but his father arrived—as did Rix.

Her uncle grasped her arms, tugging her away from Carver. His eyes were frantic as he studied her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m all right,” she assured him.

High General Cregon Vincetti frowned. “Are you sure?”

Saints, she could barely breathe, surrounded by three towering men. “I’mfine,” she insisted.

Rix’s brow grew lined. “Let’s get you out of here.”

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