Page 84 of Misted

A deep-throated growl rips from him as he turns into stone. For long seconds, we stand there with the water reaching my waist. I nuzzle my nose into his back, inhaling him in and hoping he’ll calm down a little.

My lips graze the salty skin of his back and I kiss him and kiss him and kiss the hell out of him.

With another groan, he yanks my arms free and strides outside the beach. Once again, I bury my useless pride and follow him.

He’s in pain and I’d do anything to erase that pain.

On the beach, he bends to pick up his phone and gun that he always leave there and continues storming ahead.

Once he’s near the wired fence we did together, he stops. I halt, too, my eyes bulging at the unmistakable rustle and hustle of shoes.

He’s here.

It’s the last horrifying thought I have before bullets fly all around us.