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She’s dying alright, there’s no mistaking my own personal fucking signature as the poison-laced wine works its way through her veins. The brain, kidneys, heart, lungs – it matters not. The only thing that matters is that she will die.
The pang of guilt that hits me in the chest surprises me. I didn’t anticipate the deadweight that wraps itself around my neck and pulls me under with her. I didn’t anticipate the sound of her voice echoing in my mind. I didn’t anticipate that I’d find myself completely intrigued by the one woman I thought I wanted to kill the most.
I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Racing around the kitchen island to where Kayla has collapsed, I drop to my knees beside her prone form. She’s still got a pulse, but it’s faint. Weak. Nearly fucking gone.
“Shit!”
I’ve never felt panic like this before. I’ve never had the need to do this before.
Taking care to hold her up in my arms, I lean backwards, place her on my lap and start talking to her.
“Come on, Red. Open your eyes for me.”
Right now I’ll do anything to try to save her.
“I’m not going to let you die. Not on my watch.”
I reach inside my suit jacket and pull out the tiny, hard black case I keep on me at all times. With one hand still on Kayla’s pulse point, I flick the magnet catch on the case open and retrieve the tiny vial of antidote from within. Kayla’s fading fast, but I’m going to need both hands free to administer the drug. Reluctantly, I let go of her wrist and grab the small syringe from the black case. I quickly load the syringe with the antidote, flicking the side to ensure there’s no air bubbles, and stab it into the side of Kayla’s neck, slamming my thumb down on the plunger and watching the chamber empty.
I hold my breath and count.
“Come on,” I say more to myself than to her as I wait to see if the antidote is going to work.
Seconds pass, minutes, maybe even an hour.
Nothing.
“Come on, Red. Stay with me.” I check her pulse again. “Faster.”
Her pulse is still weak but it is definitely getting stronger. Her eyelids flutter, so I rub my hand down her cheek, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes are still closed, but there’s a spark of life in her again.
“Kayla. Open your eyes for me, sweetheart, baby.”
I continue to talk to her softly, running my hands over every inch of her beautiful face, willing her to wake up. Willing her to be okay.
With a gasp that I’m sure will alert the entire facility, she comes around. This time it doesn’t take me by surprise because my eyes are glued to her face, searching for signs of life. Her eyes open and a relieved breath whooshes from my lungs when she blinks up at me. Her beautiful, diopside green eyes look up and glaze over with confusion.
Fuck, I don’t even know what came over me. Why did I lie and tell her we were all sterilised? Was it because fucking her raw felt so fucking good and I want to do it again, or is there another reason?
I have bigger things to worry about right now. Like keeping her heart beating and wondering why the fuck I’m suddenly Mother Theresa instead of The Grim Reaper.
“W-what happened?” Kayla’s brows furrow in confusion as she tries to sit up, but I place a hand on her shoulder to keep her still.
“Just lie here for a moment, let me explain. You collapsed.”
“Why? I felt fine.”
I take in a deep breath and run my hands through her hair, cupping her face in my palms. Now that I’ve touched her, I can’t seem to stop myself from exploring every inch of her. “The wine.”
“It was corked?”
I shake my head. “Poisoned.”
Her eyes widen. “What?” Again, she tries to get up and I have to gently hold her down.
“Yeah. Listen. Stay still for a minute and let the antidote do its thing. I’ll help you into bed in a second. You need to pretend nothing happened tonight. You can’t tell anyone.”
