Someone’s in the house, Wyatt said, keeping his curses to himself. Pepper, tell me you’ve got this.
Both he and Nonny had weapons at hand, but killing any of the soldiers was clearly a difficult task. It took time he didn’t have. Worse, stopping the bleeding and saving Malichai’s kidney was proving to be more complicated than he wanted it to be. The knife had done considerable damage. He felt the presence of the soldier as he moved inside, a stealthy stalk, straight toward the operating room, drawn, Wyatt was certain, by the blazing lights.
Pepper braced herself. She didn’t have the right angle on the soldier for a bullet to take him down. She had no choice. She knew that. She also knew what it meant for her. For Wyatt. Still, she wasn’t about to let him kill Wyatt or take her children. Sacrificing her happiness for them was a no-brainer.
As the soldier yanked open the door to the operating room and thrust his gun inside, she flung herself at him, her hands sliding under his shirt, allowing the maximum of the biochemical to penetrate. His finger stilled on the trigger, just as she’d known it would. Just as she’d practiced a million times.
She moved around him, sliding her body against his so that he dropped the weapon and reached for her, ripping at the front of her shirt. That just exposed more skin, and she ripped at his shirt, allowing skin-to-skin contact. His mouth came down and she turned her head up, blocking out everything but what she had to do – what it would take to save her family. The very thing that would destroy her.
She kissed him. She kissed him and killed him, all in one bittersweet moment. She wasn’t such a failure as a weapon as they’d thought her. Their weapon had worked perfectly twice now in a combat situation. Her heart beat fast as she stepped back from the man, knowing the cobra venom was fast acting. Was fatal.
The soldier’s eyes clung to her as if she was his everything. As if she hadn’t just injected him with enough venom to kill an elephant. Absolute adulation. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Bile rose in her throat. She didn’t allow herself to look away from him, giving him that much, knowing he would die thinking she was his.
She despised herself. She couldn’t look away from him, away from the blasphemy of biochemical love. She’d used something precious to kill. She’d been turned into such an abomination there was no saving her. She saw the knowledge in the soldier’s eyes and it killed something in her.
She stepped closer to him, fighting tears. Her hand cupped the side of his face. He couldn’t help being what he was any more than she could. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
His adoring gaze still clung to her. The venom was taking hold, his face drooping, but he still managed to turn his face toward her palm. She felt his tongue lick at her skin, seeking more of the addicting drug.
His knees gave out abruptly and she went to the floor with him, on her own knees, arm around his back, pushing the gun away from him, deeper into the room so if another came they had more protection.
Pepper was careful not to look at Wyatt or Nonny. The scent of blood and death permeated the air so that with every breath she drew into her lungs she brought the knowledge of who and what she was – what she would always be. There was no cure for a woman like her. And no living with a woman like her.
She watched him die slowly, his lungs paralyzed so that his death came inch by terrible inch, and she refused to look away from what she was.
“Pepper.”
Wyatt’s voice penetrated, but she didn’t take her eyes off the dying soldier’s eyes.
“Pepper, you’re done. Get away from there.”
She shook her head.
Honey, there’s nothin’ you can do. He would have killed us. He would have killed or taken our children.
She hated that Wyatt’s voice was soft with tenderness. He didn’t want to see the truth. He was too good of a man, but she was sitting on the floor with a man she’d killed, while he stared at her adoringly. What kind of a monster was she? How could Wyatt realistically live with her? Stay with her? Make a life with her? And her beautiful little daughters – their – daughters, they couldn’t be like her. She couldn’t let that happen.
The soldier’s eyes were wide open, staring into hers, yet the muscles in his face drooped hideously. His eyes begged her. Pleaded with her. Not for life. Not that. That no longer mattered to him. Her stomach heaved. Her throat burned. She knew what mattered to him and he was dying.
She leaned into him and whispered into his ear. Let her skin rub along his. She gave him what he wanted more than life itself. The drug that was her.