Force of Nature by Skye Warren & Amelia Wilde

Author:Skye Warren & Amelia Wilde [Warren, Skye & Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dangerous Press
Published: 2022-09-05T18:30:00+00:00

9

CARTER MORELLI

June tries to say my name, and then she goes down.

I’m only a few feet away. I don’t get there in time.

Guilt tunnels down through my muscles like roots, shoving aside the tissue in my heart to burrow deeper. I shove everything off, dropping it behind me, and go to my knees in the dirt.

“June.” She’s crumpled on the earth, face red, eyes closed. It’s my shirt and shorts between her and the ground. They’re not enough. I’m gravely offended. How dare the dirt try to touch her? How dare some fucking plant cut her hand?

How dare I let her keep walking? What the hell was I thinking? I knew she wasn’t ready. I saw the unsteadiness in her steps. She’s just so damn optimistic. I gather her into my lap. A gentle shake to her face. June’s skin is hot to the touch.

We’ve been in the sun for hours, but that’s not what this is. It’s a fever.

“June. Can you hear me?”

Not a chance in hell. She’s out. Dead weight. June is tiny in my clothes. The fever doesn’t make any sense. Dehydration and hunger are the most obvious culprits, but a fever?

With her head cradled in my arm, I can feel how hot she is, head to toe.

Mother of God. I didn’t know she was in such bad shape. I knew the cut rattled her—it would scare any civilian to have blood running down to her elbow.

Her arm sprawls out onto the ground, so I pull it close. Arrange her in my lap. Sit up so I can get my fucking bearings.

What I’m not going to do is panic.

It would be completely out of character. I don’t have anxious tendencies. I’ve never suffered from panic attacks, like Daphne’s husband, Emerson. If I did, I’d never have made it through the initial testing.

So it’s not panic. It’s my stomach in knots. It’s my pulse racing faster than I’ve ever felt.

I take June’s wrist and lift her bandaged hand so I can examine it.

It’s bright red, all over. Swollen. I have no doubt it’s the same situation under the bandage.

“Fuck.”

A poisonous plant. She fell on a poisonous plant.

I don’t have enough data.

June’s so light that it’s nothing to get to my feet with her in my arms. The packs lie abandoned behind us. I’ll get them in a minute. Information first before I throw up from the stress.

We haven’t gone far since June fell. Ten minutes of walking? Twelve? She wasn’t moving very quickly. I should have known something was seriously wrong. Or part of me did know that, but I’m a Morelli. I’m an evil bastard, born and bred, and I didn’t stop.

It only takes me eight minutes to reach the place where she tripped. The swipes in the dirt where she landed and struggled to get up are still here.

So is the plant that cut her.

It’s vicious. Thick leaves, rounder than agave Americana and with more of a razor’s edge. If I didn’t know better, I’d think

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