Page 75 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)
Bris collapsed against Achilles with a ragged cry. His return embrace was weak. He’d lost too much blood. She had to get him help!
The cabin door burst open. Aeaean medics in olive uniforms stormed inside, their faces grim as they assessed the carnage.
They immediately dragged out Aggie, followed by Charisse, who was already moaning and coming around.
“You’ll all pay for this!” Her venomous gaze froze Bris in place. “My father will destroy you!”
The driver’s door wrenched open, and their arms found Achilles next. “Please,” Bris said. “Be careful. He—he means everything to me!”
It was like talking to efficient robots for all the good it did.
Achilles’s arm was growing cooler under her grip as they loaded him onto a stretcher.
Why was he getting so cold? Would he be okay?
They pressed gauze against the wound in his shoulder, checking his pulse, shining lights in his eyes.
The bullet had torn through muscle and sinew near his collarbone.
She gasped when she finally got a good look at it. There was so much blood! Glancing down at the white dress she’d worn as her wedding dress, she let out a breath when she saw that it was soaked through with his blood. “Oh no, my sweet Achilles!” She couldn’t reach him through all the medics.
That’s when she caught sight of his father fighting through the personnel to get to his son.
“Achilles!” He dropped to his knees beside the stretcher.
She’d never seen such grief etched on a face.
“Brave… too brave… braver than I could ever be.” His gnarled hand clasped his son’s pale fingers.
“Will you ever forgive me? I should’ve… I never knew…
the man you became. I wasted so much time. ”
A hot tear slid down Bris’s cheek, burning her skin with bitter grief.
This was the reunion that she knew Achilles had dreamed of since he was a boy, not the one where he’d been held hostage, ridiculed, challenged; no, this one was bathed in love and sincerity, and he wasn’t with it enough to know it was happening.
“Gena is safe.” His father’s voice was thick with emotion. “She had a guardian angel watching over her. Of—of course, your mother let me have it for putting her in danger in the first place.”
“M-mother? You saw her?”
“Yes!” O Skia said in surprise.
Talk of his mother had miraculously revived Achilles. His breathing deepened as oxygen seemed to refill his lungs. Hope spilled through her fear. Was he truly making a recovery? So fast? Bris let out a shaky sigh. His dark eyes found her. “What are you doing way over there? Come here.”
Something like a laugh mingled with a cry left her lips as she carefully navigated around the medics who worked with skilled hands so she could get to his side.
Her arms went around him, more gently than she’d ever held anyone, avoiding the bandaged shoulder where the men had stabilized the wound. His heart pounded against her cheek.
“What kind of hug is that?” he teased. His fingers trailed down her back, not cradling her against his chest with quite the same strength as normal—after all, he’d just gotten shot, but the love in that touch was still unmistakable.
“I want to fight the world with you,” she whispered fiercely. “All the shadows threatening our people—my father, your stepfather…”
“Atreus Mnon?” Achilles murmured against her cheek.
“He’s not—he’s not my stepfather.” He pressed her more tightly against him.
“Never call him that.” How was he getting so strong?
Her man was a beast to move through a shoulder wound like this.
Achilles glanced over at O Skia, a brief grin flashing across his lips.
“What are you waiting for? Go get Mom. Don’t waste any more time. Bring her back to us!”
O Skia let out a gruff bark of laughter in return.
The grief that had carved lines into his face for so long lifted like heavy clouds.
He patted his son’s arm, miraculously finding an uninjured spot, before leaving as quickly as he’d come, his steady stride quickening until he was sprinting for the waiting vehicles.
The medics secured additional straps across Achilles’s chest, preparing to transport him to the island’s one medical facility. Bris straightened at the threat of separation. “I’m going with him!”
Achilles grinned at her with that familiar spark dancing in those mischievous eyes. “That’s right… no one better fight my Prissy on anything. We have unfinished business. Where were we?”
She caught his hand in hers. “We were planning to take on the world together…”
“Before that,” he said softly.
“We were rescuing each other?”
“Before that… when we were in that tent under the olive trees, and you were truly mine—more than just the meaningless words we used before…”
Her face flushed with heat and then with joy as he gently touched her chin with the edge of his fingertips, drawing her closer to where he could reach her. The achingly sweet kiss he pressed on her lips tasted of hope, of promises, of a future yet to be fulfilled.
And feeling his lips turn possessively over hers, she had a feeling that no one would ever question whether Achilles loved her—not ever again.