He steps closer and lifts the fabric to my face. I watch his eyes, holding them, fixing on those tiny flecks of gold that give them an amber tint. I feel his breath on my cheek as he brings the cloth over my eyes and works on knotting it behind my head. The knot catches on a few strands, and I wince.
“Sorry,” he murmurs near my ear.
He’s so close, his chest brushing my own. I tremble even as everything inside me tenses, eager for him to step back and go away.
“There.” He lowers his arms. My pulse skips as his skin grazes my cheek. I blink, my lashes brushing the fabric blinding me. Drowning in darkness, I move my head to the side, listening. Feeling. All my senses thrum in hyperalert.
Are you still there, Caden? Say something.
The words knock around inside my head, threatening to spill loose like pebbles chipped off a boulder. Sheer willpower dams them up inside me.
The others speak in low tones around me. I sense their hovering presence, their soft movements. The tension is thick, swirling like smoke as we wait for Tabatha to return.
Suddenly I hear the click and grind of a door opening. Tabatha’s voice rings out, “Okay, we’re clear. Let’s go.”
Shoes shuffle as Tabatha starts lining everyone up, instructing them to hold hands. I turn in the direction of her voice. I know Caden’s still here but have no idea where he stands. I sense him. Feel him.
Then he touches my shoulder. I know it’s him and not Tabatha. There’s just something in the heat and pressure of his hand on me . . . in the sparks that flare from the simple contact.
He turns me around. “I should have handled you differently.”
I bristle. “Handled me?” No one handles me.
He sighs. “Okay. Poor word choice. It’s just that I—I listened to you. I let you push me away.” Again, I can feel his breath on my cheek.
My chin goes up. “That’s what I wanted.”
“Yeah, you wanted that, but it’s not what I wanted. And it’s not what you needed.”
I snort even though his words are finding their way beneath my skin, arrowing straight for my heart. My hands shake a little, and I press them against my sides. “And you know what I need?” We just met, but he thinks he knows me as well as that?
“I think you’re scared and running.”
I nod once, swift and certain. It’s hard to admit, but what’s the point in arguing? I am scared. What carrier isn’t? I should be scared. It’s logical. “Of course I am.” I step back, feeling the heat of him radiate, close to me, following.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t change your mind.”
There’s a slight shift in the air. For a fraction of a second, I understand his intent, that he’s moving in. His hands slide along my cheeks, holding my face for him, the calloused pads of his fingers exerting the barest pressure. And then his mouth is on mine.
I startle, jump a little as our lips meet. They’re cooler than I expect. Soft and dry. Not that I have given kissing him great thought. It’s been one thing I deliberately avoided considering, but an awareness has always been there. Maybe this was inevitable. Two forces destined to collide.
His lips move over mine, slanting one way, then the other, kissing me like some sort of snake charmer working to coax a response. I finally give in and lean into him, my mouth softening under his, moving, kissing him back like it’s the last kiss of my life.
And maybe it is. At least it’s our last kiss. The first and the last.
That familiar heat sweeps over my face. How does he do this to me? So quickly? So easily? And was breathing ever this hard before? I feel like I’m stuck in a windowless room without any air-conditioning in the middle of summer. It’s something that only happens to me around him. I breathe just fine any other time.
“Caden!” The sharp sound of his name is like a sudden douse of ice water. His mouth lifts off mine. I turn in the direction of Tabatha’s voice, tempted to wrench the blindfold from my face.
Instead, I hold myself still, waiting to hear if he says anything more. That deep, velvet voice one more time before I go.
“I’ll take her from here, Caden,” Tabatha says tightly, and I feel her cool, slim fingers wrap around my wrist, her hold tight, unyielding. Like she’s ready to drag me bodily from the compound and Caden if she has to. I almost smile at the image. It’s unnecessary. One kiss changes nothing. If anything, it just confirms how fast I have to get away from this place. From him.
“Good luck, Davy.” His voice rolls over me. It sounds deeper, a little husky, and makes my lips tingle with the memory of his taste.
“Good-bye,” I say.
Tabatha tugs me and I move, slide one step and hope she’s not about to lead me into a wall. Or off a cliff.
I strain, listening for his voice, convinced that his eyes are still on me.
“Here,” she instructs. “Take his hand.” She shoves my hand at one of the other carriers. My fingers get lost in the larger, sweaty grip of a man. I’m the last one in the chain. “Don’t let go,” she whispers near my ear. “I’m happy to leave you behind out there.”
I just bet. In moments the man in front of me is moving, pulling me after him. It’s start and stop. I collide into his back several times. No one slows, though, as I ease my way over the door. There’s momentum in the chain by then, and I nearly fall and lose my grip on the carrier’s hand in front of me.
He yanks hard as he pulls me up. Free of the underground compound, the air feels crisper, laced with a lingering heat left over from the day. I sniff the aroma of mesquite and cedar. In the distance, I think I hear the door clicking shut, sealing us out. Sealing Caden in.