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His eyes opened further, hoping to take in the room, get his bearings. But the pain filtered in with consciousness, and his eyes closed, his breaths seething between gritted teeth. Agony radiating up from his left leg.
What in the hell?
His eyelids parted and he looked down his body. A white sheet draped over his middle. His left leg propped up, wrapped from his thigh to his foot in thick bandages.
What the Zeus?
It took him moments, the pain of his leg washing over him in torturous waves, sending his eyes closed before he remembered.
His leg cracking in half. Torrie appearing steps away from him. Torrie lunging. A gun in his hand firing. Torrie in front of fire.
His eyes flew open, his look frantic on the room around him. Chairs. Desk. Fireplace. Doors. Windows.
Torrie.
Torrie standing at the window, her arms wrapping her middle, her gaze on the outside world.
Hell.
Even from her profile, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days—weeks—the dark circles under her eyes so deep it was as if death haunted her.
How blasted long had he been out? Incoherent?
Was she not well? Had she been burned? Vague snippets of a fire flashed in his mind.
Fire around her head.
Panic set so deep into his chest it started to choke the air out of him.
He had to look away from her, setting his eyes on the mess of mauve above him.
Three deep breaths into his lungs and he managed to rein in the panic. Torrie was standing. That was a good sign. Not so grievously injured she was lying in bed, taunting death.
Not like him.
He cleared his throat and realized his mouth was so dry, sand could have lined his tongue and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.
He coughed slightly.
It was enough.
Torrie’s head instantly spun to him, her eyes widening as she saw his face. Saw his open eyes.
“Roe?” His name came hesitantly from her lips, almost as though she wasn’t sure it was him.
“Tor—what—” The two words were all he could afford through the desert of his mouth.
Her eyes closed and her body started swaying. She collapsed backward onto the window sill, her fingers searching for stability.
Blast it—she was injured.
Her eyes flew open and she ran across the room to him, her hands gripping the sides of his head, her green eyes searching his face.
“You know where you are?” Her frantic words rushed out at him, too fast for his muddled brain to process.
He shook his head. “Wa—water.”
Her head snapped back. “Oh—oh, of course.” She scooted up along the edge of the bed, grabbing a glass from the bedside table. She pressed the edge of the glass to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. Her eyes on him like a hawk circling above its prey.
