Impossible Promise by Sybil Bartel

Author:Sybil Bartel [Bartel, Sybil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781426899676
Amazon: B00OHVLTXK
Barnesnoble: B00OHVLTXK
Goodreads: 23595431
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2015-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Talon pulled my limp sandy body into his arms. “I got you, Sugar, I got you. Shh, don’t cry.” Wrapping me against his chest, he stood.

Die. I’d wanted to die. I couldn’t breathe. “I d-d-drowned.”

“No you didn’t, darlin’, no you didn’t. I wouldn’t let that happen.” Talon’s voice was off.

I tried to make the unresponsive muscles in my hands hold on to Talon but nothing worked. The bunch and pull of his muscles, the breath going in and out of his lungs, I needed to focus on it. Life. Talon. I needed it. I needed him.

Talon carried me.

“N-n-n-no m-m-m-men.” No guns, no shots. Were they waiting to ambush us?

“Shh, we’ll talk later. Let’s get you warmed up.” Talon took us to the side of his house and still holding me in his arms, he walked up to an outside shower and turned it on.

At first the spray felt like nothing but wet. But as the water warmed up, it became sharp stabs of painful heat all over my skin.

“Hurts.” I was too tired and my voice too raw to do anything but whisper.

Talon kissed my forehead. “I know. Drink.” He leaned me into the spray.

I took a painful sip and Talon turned his back to the water. Cradling me like a child, he held his head under the spray then shook his hair out. Turning back around, he put me under the water and slowly lowered me to my feet, but my shaking legs didn’t hold. I gripped Talon’s neck for dear life and he reached for my tank top.

“Hey.” There was no force behind my protest.

“Nothin’ doin’, Sugar, nothin’ doin’. Just gettin’ you outta these wet clothes.” He lifted the hem of the tank and pulled the sagging material up and over my head. The second the fabric hit my left arm, I screamed out in pain.

“Whoa, whoa, Sugar, I’m just... Jesus fucking Christ. You got shot?” Large hands gripped my left biceps and held it up. “God fucking damn it, why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at my arm. It looked like I’d taken a curling iron and branded myself. “I got shot.”

“No fucking shit.” Talon inspected my arm.

A trickle of blood oozed from the top of the slightly angled wound. “No bullet?”

“You just got grazed. Let’s rinse it off.” He squatted, peeled off my leggings then stood and gently held my arm under the spray.

I didn’t even care that I wasn’t wearing underwear. It felt too good to be out of the cold and under the shower. “Hurts, have to sit,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

“Let’s get the rest of you rinsed off.” Talon was suddenly at my back, holding me up with his arms around my bare waist.

The water cascading down me began to ease the burn in my arm and my breath started to come evenly. Talon stood rigid behind me. His bare chest against my back, his board shorts scratchy against my backside. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and he buried his face in my neck.

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