Into His Command (20 page)

Only one thought eclipsed the deluge. It spilled from my lips in a pleading whimper.
“Samsyn.” He’d been here, hadn’t he? Bellowing and snarling and threatening at Bo
and half the island. His voice, breaking my heart. His warmth, keeping me sane.

“Samsyn!”

I was so cold. So desperate to be done with this.

“Here.”

Yes.

He
was
here. Commanding away the cold, infusing me with his strength…bringing the light
I
wanted
to fight for. I clung to our connection, twisting it into my tendons and bones, using
it to get in one breath without agony. Another.

“Don’t go.” I all but sobbed it, though was ashamed. Could I be any more selfish,
begging him to stay when some very bad guys had just done some very bad shit? His
comm line probably sounded like an awful action movie.
I
sure as hell expected reality to jump back in soon, turning this back into a figment
of everyone’s imagination. “But if you have to, I understand.”

“They shall not move me from this spot,
astremé
.”

“You’re being sweet. And I appreciate it, but really, if you have to—”

“
Brooke
.”

“What?”

“Do you
truly
think I was going for ‘sweet’?”

“Good point.” There was a rustling near him, as if someone else had stepped over.
He was still there, though. The rough heat of his knuckles brushed the crest of my
cheek. Something pinched my arm. I winced, making him turn the soothing touch into
something more directive. He hummed a soft sound. My senses glided on its velvet,
soon swirled with a new sensation. Warmth. Numbness. Bliss. “Wow,” I heard myself
say. “Wha the hell is thaaaa?”

Syn sifted gentle fingers through my hair. “There. You can call the painkillers ‘sweet’.”

“‘Kay.” I was fuzzy…floating. “
This
is sweet, Syn.
You
ah not.” My giggle echoed in my head. I felt good enough to open my eyes. “C’mooooon,
big guy. Tha was funny.”

He lifted a smile, though not enough to earn me a glimpse of teeth. “Yes,
astremé
. That was funny.”

“No. Huh-uh. Wasn’t.” I pouted. “Didn’t earn me any tee.”

“Tea?”

“No.
Teeth.
” Ow. Okay, this was officially a No Thinking zone—though I couldn’t avoid the contemplation
of how cute he was, cocking that ornery frown. Holy shit, the man was so jumpable.

“Teeth? Brooke—what—”

“You nevah show me your teeth, Syn. You evah stopped to think abow tha? Why no teeth?”
I lifted my hand to cover his own. Just my right one, since the butcher fuckers still
had my left trapped and pinned. They hadn’t gotten out the saw yet, though. The limb
still throbbed like a rhino on the hunt, though now it was a baby rhino instead of
a bull. “You have such prettah teeth, big guy.” I reached along his arm, toward his
face. His eyes glittered, intense as quicksilver. His jaw clenched, though I figured
the soft chuckles around the room had more to do with that than my compliment. Nevertheless,
I
really
wasn’t getting any teeth now.

He curled his other hand around mine. Gently lowered it back down but didn’t let it
go. “You need to be still now, Brooke.” His long fingers curled in deeper, pushing
into my palm in emphasis. “Keep looking at me—and be very still.”

“Why?”

He pushed harder with the other hand, rubbing my hairline with his thumb. “They cannot
run the risk of putting you out; not with a concussion still likely.” A deep breath
widened his nostrils. “But it has to come out,
favori
.”

“Come out? Wha does?”

“The bullet.”

“The
wha
?”

I didn’t know who to hate more: whoever started digging into my shoulder like Hannibal
Lecter with a grudge, or the man helping to hold me down, invading my hell with his
bronze angel’s face.

Couldn’t be knocked out, huh? That had to be because he knew the pain would do it,
instead. And he would’ve been right.

*

My eyelids felt
coated in glass, and my throat the sand dune that’d created the shards.
Parched. Hurts.
The rest of my body didn’t fare much better, though with every movement, my muscles
confirmed the lingering fog of the painkillers.

Painkillers.

Was that it? If so…
why
was I on painkillers?

What the hell was going on?

Then the memories blared. Brief flashes at first, followed by longer stretches.

The blast. The smoke. Those men…stomping, prowling…

Searching
.

For what?

Not for what. For whom
.

The sweaty soldier, yelling like the kid who’d found the golden egg. Then his friend,
carrying last week’s dinner between his teeth, using me for punching practice. Smelly
jerk-wad.

Only then…he wasn’t anymore.

Somehow, the jerk-wad had morphed into Samsyn.

Samsyn…who’d held me tight and whispered I’d be okay, only to roar at the damn world
like a dragon with an injured princess in his arms…

Okay, now you’re just getting stupid
.

It was more outrageous than thinking he’d stuck around while the medics subjected
me to that torture. That he’d whispered so tenderly to me, just before the violence
of their invasion…

Not memories. These had to be dreams…just like the one I was having right now. A fantasy
that seemed so real, with his arms around me, his breath in my ear, his body close
and big and hard. And warm. Wherever we’d landed in the dream, it was ass-freezing
cold, and I was dressed in nothing but my camisole. I hunched against the chill, burrowing
against the heated bricks of Syn’s chest, curling in my arms to take advantage of
our proximity—

Okay; attempted to.

Pain. Lots of it. Down my left tricep and wrist. Hell. The butchers had let me keep
the damn thing, and now I only wanted it gone.

As soon as my moan sliced the air, Syn growled in reprimand. “
Calmay olmak
,
astremé
. Be still. You are not healed.”

“Healed.” I murmured it while letting him guide my head back down to his chest. Slowly,
the scrambled eggs in my brain folded events into a cohesive omelet—though pieces
were still missing. “From what?” I drowsily asked. Syn had started combing fingers
through my hair and it felt so…damn…good.

“You do not remember?” His voice was as soft as his touch, as he urged a straw to
my mouth. While I sucked down blissfully cold water, he brushed the hair off my face.

“Not everything,” I finally replied. A joyous moan almost followed, as his fingers
combed through my hair. Damn, the man had talented hands. “There was a huge blast.
Lots of people…men…nin­jas…everywhere. At first I thought it was a Pura stunt, but
those douche bags were definitely there for something. Or someone.”

“Douche bags.” He echoed my slang as he often did, his tone a curious question.

“Let it slide, big guy.”

Fortunately, he did. “What happened next?”

Shock. Sudden, stabbing. It turned physical, gashing through my brain, but I jerked
the damn thing up anyway. “Flayre. Oh my God Syn, it was Flayre. That was how they
got in after the perimeter check. He betrayed us!”

He swallowed hard. “That much we
do
know.”

“He confessed?”

“You could say that.”

“Shit.” Though his grim tone already clued me in, I stared into his tired eyes with
the silent insistence for the spill.

“We chased him out of the mansion and up to the cliffs over the shallows. He…jumped
before we could get to him.”

“Fuck.” I let my head drop again. “Was Blayze there?”

“No.”

“Thank God.” I absently stroked the seam between his pecs. “How’s he doing?”

“Not well.”

“No doubt.”

We were silent, each lost in thought. My spirit ached for Blayze. He loved serving
Arcadia, and was engaged to a woman just as devoted to the kingdom. Flayre’s integrity
flush would stain everyone in the family for a while, especially him. There wouldn’t
be any security details or trusted group missions for him in the near future.

At last, Syn broke the silence with another quiet query. “Can you remember anything
else,
astremé
?”

Soft snort. Deep frown. “I don’t think so. That’s where things get fuzzy.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Of course?” I chuffed. “Like you know?”

He hummed out a grunt. “The rest of the room felt miles away? You noticed strange
little things, like dust on a table or a mole on your enemy’s arm—”

“Or their really bad breath?”

“That would fit.” His lips pressed the top of my head, feeling like apology and commiseration
in one. “And then, the realization that the white clouds and angels are never going
to appear…”

“
Right
?” I popping up on my good elbow. “Wow. You
do
get it.”

I expected him to order me back down. Instead, he let me linger for a few moments,
hovering slightly over him…enraptured by another expression I’d never seen from him
before. If this was becoming a pattern, I wasn’t complaining—especially now. The hundred
thoughts behind his bright blues had multiplied to a thousand. His lashes seemed longer
as he swept that incredible gaze across my face, following the path set by his roaming
fingers. “Protecting a kingdom with water as borders is not always a—how would you
say it?—a ‘beach bash’?”

I tried out a small laugh. “That would fit.” Nope.
Not
a wise move. “Whoa.” Dropped my head again, as dizzy and woozy became the moment-killing
wonder twins. Even with the rock of Syn’s body back beneath me, the world spun, unwilling
to let go. “
Damn
.”

“Ssshhh.” His hand, massive and magical, moved back through my hair. He had to be
on the universe’s payroll, bribed to help put me back under. “You need rest now.”

I snorted. “So you know about
that
now, too?”

The spaces beneath my ear rumbled with dark mirth. “More than all the rest.”

“Sounds like you learned that the hard way.”

“As I am reminded nearly every day,
astremé
.”

“Huh?”

“By the bullet they had to leave in my thigh.”

“
What
? Seriously?”

“
Rest
.”

He didn’t let me rise this time. It was wonderfully easy to let him take over, surrounding
me again in the cocoon of his bulky arms. In contrast, thick softness draped me from
behind: a blanket as soft as cashmere, redolent with Syn’s scent. As wind, woods,
and pepper filled my nostrils, surrender filled my soul. I nuzzled into the plateau
of his pectoral. Another sound reverberated through his chest, sounding like a strangled
hiss. It unfurled an answering sound from deep in me: a long, tired sigh.

“Rest,” he murmured again. It was drenched in his typical command—but I heard the
clutch of his throat at its finish.

Something to analyze later.

My eyes grew heavier. My limbs weren’t far behind. Still, I forced my hand upward,
stretching fingers into the comforting warmth of his nape. As always, I marveled at
the feeling of the power beneath his skin, seemingly always at the ready…but always
reined back for me. “You make me feel so safe.”

“Because you are.”

“But…Samsyn?”

“Hmmm?”

“Who are
you
safe with?”

Something told me I should’ve just Tasered him. The effect on his body would’ve been
the same. The catch of his breath, more violent this time, betrayed he’d understood
me very clearly. That the safety I spoke of wasn’t just physical.

“I am perfectly safe on my own, Brooke.”

“Bullshit.”

He snorted. “I ordered you to rest.”

Fume. And a very strong urge to glower. I held back, keeping my head on his chest—choosing
to see him through my touch instead. Slowly, I traced fingers around the bottom of
his ear, along the line of his jaw, down his neck, to the place where his heart pumped
right beneath my ear.

“Someone needs to keep you safe, Samsyn.”
Please let me in, Samsyn.

“Go to sleep, Brooke.”

He concluded it with a weary sigh.

But not before the beats under my fingers sped to double their rhythm.

I fell back into the dark as a smile took over my lips.

‡