Part 49 (1/2)

”You hurt me.”

”I know.” He rested his brow on hers, tried to get his bearings. He could smell her, feel her, and the thought of losing her made him weak in the knees. ”I'm sorry. I didn't know I could hurt you. I thought it was just me. I thought you'd walk.”

”So you walked first.”

He drew back a little. ”Something like that.”

”Coward.” She jerked away. ”Go away, Ry. Leave me alone. I have to think about this.”

”You're still in love with me. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me.”

”Then you'll have to wait, because I'm not ready to tell you anything.” Phones were ringing. Wearily rubbing her temple, Natalie wondered who would be calling so long after hours. ”I'm raw, don't you understand? I realized I loved you and had you break it off almost simultaneously. I'm not going to serve you my emotions on a platter.”

”Then I'll give you mine,” he said quietly. ”I love you, Natalie.”

Her heart swam into her eyes. ”d.a.m.n you.d.a.m.n you! That's not fair.”

”I can't be worried about fair.” He stepped closer, and reached out to touch her hair. His hand froze when he saw the flicker of light at the end of the hall. It danced through the gla.s.s in a pattern he recognized too well. ”Take the fire stairs down, now. Call Dispatch.”

”What? What are you talking about?”

”Go,” he repeated, and dashed down the hall. He could smell smoke now, and cursed it. Cursed himself for being so intent on his own needs that he'd missed it. He saw it, the crafty plume under the door that flowed out, sucked in.

”Oh, G.o.d. Ry.”

She was right behind him. He had time to see the flames writhing behind the gla.s.s, time to judge. Then he turned, leapt and knocked Natalie to the ground as the window exploded. Lethal shards of gla.s.s rained over them.

Chapter 12

She felt pain, sharp and shocking, as her head thudded against the floor, and pinp.r.i.c.ks of heat from the gla.s.s and flame. For a terrifying moment, she thought Ry was unconscious, or dead. His body was fully spread over hers, a s.h.i.+eld protecting her from the worst of the blast.

Before she could even sob in the breath to scream his name, he was up and dragging her to her feet.

”Are you burned?”

She shook her head, aware only of the throbbing, and the smoke that was beginning to sting her eyes, her throat. She could barely see his face through it, but she saw the blood.

”Your face, your arm-you're bleeding.”

But he wasn't listening. He had her hand vised in his, and was dragging her away from the flame. Even as they dashed down the hall, another window exploded. Fire roared out.

It surrounded them, golden and greedy, unbelievably hot. She screamed once as she saw it race along the floor, eating its way toward them, spitting like a hundred hungry snakes.

Panic gripped her, icy fingers clutching at her stomach, squeezing her throat, in taunting contrast to the heat pulsing around them.

They were trapped, fire writhing on either side of them. Terrified, she fought him when he pushed her to the floor.

”Stay low.” However grim his thoughts, his voice was calm. He gripped her hair in one hand to keep her face turned to his. He needed her to hold on to control.