Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(84)

I eyed the computer at Father Gabriel’s desk. Could there be something, anything, there that I could access? Could it help Jacob’s case?

Carefully I sat in Father Gabriel’s large chair, but as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, I feared that trying to access information would set off an alarm. Instead I opened drawers and peered inside for anything.

Certainly, once the raids occurred, the FBI would thoroughly search the entire mansion. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t disturb anything.

Sometime around midnight, my tired muscles cried for rest. It might have been only after eight at the Northern Light, but unfortunately I’d awakened at the Eastern Light, and was still here. Not only were my muscles tired of standing and walking, but also exhaustion tugged at my eyelids. Over the last hour I’d formed a fleeting sense of security locked away in Father Gabriel’s office. I didn’t know where I would be told to sleep, but since I was here and so was the sofa, I decided to see whether I could sit. Though the leather was incredibly soft, sitting was too painful to allow me to rest; however, after maneuvering around, I found that if I lay on my side, I could get comfortable.

With Dylan’s phone tightly in my grasp and his number still available, I sighed and my tight muscles eased a bit. I closed my eyes. Lost in the familiar leather scent, in no time at all I drifted to sleep.

In my dream I was no longer a hostage in Father Gabriel’s mansion, and the talk of brides of The Light was forgotten. I wasn’t holding Dylan’s phone; instead my palm was warmly and safely encased in Jacob’s. In a gentle breeze, we were walking through the north acres at the Northern Light.

The warm kiss of the sun touched my hair and our arms brushed each other’s as we walked. When I looked up, I squinted. The bright sky behind him created a glow, but it was Jacob’s gaze that brought a rush of blood to my cheeks. I quickly looked down. I didn’t need to ask why he was looking at me or what he saw. It wasn’t because I wasn’t allowed to question. It was because I knew. I knew the swirl of emotions behind his soft brown eyes. I knew his consuming thoughts that words could never fully describe. I knew where we’d gone and what we’d done when merely his expression had the ability to accelerate my heart and twist my insides.

Leaning closer to my husband, I melted against his strong arm, closed my eyes, and drank in his intoxicating scent of leather and musk. While tall grass rustled all around us, Jacob pulled us to a stop, removed his jacket, and laid it upon the cool ground. In the middle of the circumpolar North he’d provided us with the perfect place to sit. When I did, he laid his head in my lap, and I ran my fingers through his dark, wavy hair. His deep voice and soft laugh were but drugs to my already-inebriated system, electrifying my senses as they reverberated from him to me.

As we spoke, the gentle breeze tousled my blonde hair, fluttering pieces around my face. Jacob’s large hand gently tucked a renegade strand behind my ear. Eager for more of his touch, I inclined my cheek toward his palm. His warmth combined with the rough tips of his fingers lingered, cupping my cheek as he wordlessly encouraged me forward until our lips were but a whisper apart.

Their contact overloaded my body—soft yet firm, demanding yet giving. My chest heaved as a moan escaped. With the increase in my pulse, my nerves came to life, and impulses sparked synapses that only he could ignite.

Noise.

Commotion.

Startled.

The office door opened, rattling the beveled glass with excessive force. Lost in my dream, I couldn’t make out the words or accusations hurtling from his lips, though my skin prickled with goose bumps at the tone and volume. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I momentarily focused on Brother Elijah, our eyes meeting, mine scared and confused while his burned with hatred and vengeance. Lowering my eyes, I searched for Dylan’s phone, but before I could find it, my scalp cried out in pain.

Grabbing a fistful of my hair, Brother Elijah threw me from the sofa to the floor. Dazed and sore, I tried to make out the words as his threatening voice boomed through the office, echoing in my ears.

“. . . playing us for a fool. No one leaves The Light! Your zero-tolerance policy has expired.”

“I don’t understand,” I managed as he pulled me to my feet. However, as I stood I saw his fist, not even an open hand as Thomas had hit me with, and I turned, shielding my face. Unfortunately, my cheek hadn’t been his intended target.

I coughed and spit as my lungs tried to inflate. The second blow to my stomach sent me back to the floor.

“No!” I screamed, covering my face and pulling my knees to my stomach.

This couldn’t be happening.

Who would do this, knowing I could be pregnant?

As Brother Elijah’s large foot reared back to kick where he’d punched, I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle.

Sound.

Loud.

Deafening.

The room exploded. A flash through my closed lids sent shock waves that accelerated my already too-fast heartbeat. The vociferous bang echoed endlessly against the walls, submerging and drowning out everything else. The kick never came, as I floated in the waves of the explosion, and my heart ached at the loss I feared I’d already suffered.

A few days, that was what Jacob had said.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to go back to the north acres. Maybe if I gave in to the waves . . .

“Sara,” the deep voice coaxed, as a warm hand smoothed my hair away from my face. “Sara, we have to get out of here.”