Bomb—where was the bomb? He followed Sage’s gaze to the top of the tower at the end of the parapet. His eyes found the small gold device, so close, too close.
“Run!” He pushed his legs harder, letting the panic be fuel to bring him to her.
Her wide eyes flew to him, blinking as if she didn’t believe he was real. “My foot is stuck!” she called back, sounding as frantic as he felt.
He called back in disbelief, “Well, pull it out!” His words released on a growl, and he watched with bated breath as she continued to tug at her leg, not gaining an inch.
Sweat beaded along his forehead, and his loose black shirt was beginning to stick to different parts of his body as the sound of his boots echoed off the stone and cement beneath his feet. It wasn’t fear—he was just running very fast.
He was nearly to her when he felt the vibration in the air. His eyes flickered to the gold device as he drew closer. The timepiece hanging from the explosive began to shake, and he felt the tower beside them rumbling. Right as he reached her, grabbing her by the waist, throwing her to the ground and pressing his body on top of hers, he enveloped them in as much magic as he could gather and yet knew it likely wouldn’t be enough.
And then the world went red.
Chapter 10
Evie
Evie was bleeding.
She could feel the warm liquid dripping down her scalp as she slowly blinked her eyes open. She couldn’t see much. Her vision was clouded by black fabric and a muscled chest. The smell of smoke flooded her senses, but also something else. Something warm and comforting.
Her head was being cradled, and when her vision finally cleared, black eyes were peering into hers. But she was too disoriented to read the emotion behind them.
“Sage?” Her name was spoken in the smooth accent of The Villain’s voice, raising the hairs on her arms.
“Hello, sir,” she murmured weakly, trying to make sense of her rapidly moving thoughts.
The pinch in his brow smoothed, and he exhaled a ragged breath. One of the hands cradling her head came up to her cheek, and he cursed when he saw the blood. “Where else are you hurt?” he asked, his voice brusque, furious even.
She tried to assess where exactly the painful points were coming from, but if she were being honest, she didn’t feel much but contentment when he was holding her like this. He must have taken her silence as a sign of her distress, though, because he moved them both to a sitting position.
He tore a bit of his cloak, bringing it to her head to stanch the bleeding, and looked back up toward the destroyed end of the walkway. The small tower adjacent was crumbled into nothing.
“Please speak. It’s unsettling when you’re quiet.” His voice was steady, but something in him seemed shaken.
“I’m glad I didn’t explode.”
The look in his eyes warmed, and his lips pulled high, the elusive dimple making an appearance. “The feeling is mutual.”
She groaned, remembered she’d almost gotten him killed when he dove for her.
“Why didn’t you run?” There was nothing accusing in his voice, just curiosity.
She looked to her ankle. Her body seemed to remember it should be in a great deal of pain, and she gasped as the throbbing set in.
The Villain leaned back, placing her hand where his was to hold the piece of cloth to her head wound. He gently lifted her foot. “May I?”
Evie felt a little breathless but nodded.
He lifted her yellow skirt, dirtied from the smoke, until it was sitting just above her ankle. Carefully taking her worn heeled boot in his hand, he slowly pulled it off. Evie let out a hiss of pain, and he froze.
“I’m sorry.” He grimaced, pulling the shoe all the way off along with her wool sock to reveal the angry, harsh swelling that lay beneath. His warm, calloused hands gripped her calf above her injury, and Evie worried if he let go, she’d float away.
“Can you move it?” This was a different man speaking to her, or rather the same man, just without his usual layer of pretense pushed forward like his life depended on it.
He was real right now, and that safe barrier of his otherworldly splendor fell away, leaving Evie embarrassingly breathless.
He was staring at her, waiting for her response, as she attempted to move her foot quickly before he saw too much behind her eyes. “I can, but it’s painful.”
“Good, it’s not broken.” It must have been Evie’s imagination, the way his hands seemed to linger on the lines of her ankle. But they weren’t. The poor man was trying to check her for injuries, and Evie couldn’t stop the shivers that his touch sent through her.