My eyes snap open to a pitch-black world. I listen for tree frogs, but they’re drowned by loud booms. I’ve slept through dozens of rainstorms. 

This one’s different. 

Bad weather doesn’t frighten me. It will rain soon. My lids flutter as sleep beckons, until a scream pierces the night. The noise runs through me like electricity. 

I didn’t imagine that.

I sit bolt upright. The sheets fall. “August?”

I grope for August, but his side of the bed is cold. The lights in the bathroom are dark. I flip a switch, blinking at the sudden brightness. A harsh white illuminates terra-cotta tiles and cream walls. 

Where the hell is he?

I dress into a robe. My feet slap the tiles. I burst onto the balcony. The tepid air clings to my skin. A heady, wet scent floats over the humidity. Like always, it’s moist, but there’s something else mingled with the moisture. An acrid stench.

Smoke.

It drifts from the courtyard. Men run toward the west wall. I follow their progression, squinting to make out sentries. They aim rifles at the road. Deafening cracks I mistook for thunder sound like jackhammers. 

Horror rises up my throat. We’re under attack.

“August!”

No comfort glides from the darkness. I’m alone.

An explosion sends a dart of panic through my heart. The ground rings with more screams. I find a pair of sandals. Then I wrench open the door, flying down the corridors. I scream his name, but the only responses are my panicked echoes.

A guard standing outside catches my arm.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “¿Qué pasa?”

Through his stream of Spanish, I pick out a few words: “guns” and “hide.”

“No, I need to know what’s happening!” If only I could speak this language. “Don’t tell me to go back.”

He repeats the phrase. It’s not his fault he’s talking fast—he’s anxious. But it makes him harder to understand. The man pulls me away. 

I resist him. “Let go!”

Bewildered, he releases me. I slide down the maze of security officers, heading toward the courtyard where I hear shouting interspersed among gunfire.

I burst into the scene of military vehicles issuing commanding shouts. My eyes scan the brightly lit area, where a splash of red captures my eye. A man writhes where the color is the thickest, screaming.

Soldiers pack the wound on his thigh with soaked compresses. He screams as they apply pressure. Crimson flows from his leg in little rivulets. Nausea draws a line on my tongue.

I rush to his side and grab his pale bicep. It’s slippery with blood. He’s young—way too young. I brush hair from his forehead. His eyes show white all around. 

“It’ll be okay.” I palm his cheek, and his face turns into me. “You’re safe.”

The medic wraps a tourniquet. He throws me a meaningful look. This will hurt. A lot.

So I squeeze the wounded soldier’s hand.

The knot tightens. A piercing scream splits the air. He bucks my grip, thrashing against the pain. 

“I’m so sorry for doing this.” I hold his shoulders. “Don’t move!”

He slumps, the breath in his lungs spent. 

Alarm jolts into my heart. “He passed out!”

“Over here!” a voice bellows. “Quickly!”

A stretcher hurtles toward us, flanked by soldiers. I step back as they lift the man’s body. His arm hangs limp as they push him away from the gate.

“Where are they taking him?” No one knows what the hell I’m saying. “Why aren’t they leaving?” 

I point at the exit. The bearded man who tied the tourniquet raises his eyebrows. 

“We can’t. Not yet.” He wipes his hands. “The roads aren’t safe.”

“You can’t let him bleed to death!” Aghast, I watch them roll the soldier inside. “Do something!”

He dismisses me with an irritated wave. I search for a friendly face in the crowd.

A guard I recognize grips my elbow, jerking his head to the mansion.

“No. I’d rather stay here.”

Releasing a low hiss, he drags me toward my room. 

“No means no.” I yank myself free, blazing with fury. “I need to know what’s going on, not be kept in the dark like a pet. Let go of me!”

Heavy footfalls race down, and August emerges in a state of wild panic. He’s wearing nothing but loose-fitting jeans. It’s as though he rushed down in the middle of getting dressed.

“Lily!” He blanches at the sight of me. “Oh my God.”

“What?” I follow his stare, suddenly aware of the crimson soaking my robe. “Oh, it’s not—I’m all right.”

The soldier’s blood is on my wrists. Arms. Everywhere.

August releases a furious roar. It’s like a bomb exploding. August launches at the guard, fist crashing into the man’s jaw. 

“Please.” The man staggers, hands held in surrender.

“August!” I grab his arm, but he pushes me aside. “STOP!”

He can’t hear me through the bestial rage coursing through his veins, feeding his mind with poison. I sprint to the guard’s side, shaking at the terrible sound of August’s madness. I shield him from my husband, whom I barely recognize. 

“Jesus, listen to me. This isn’t my blood!”

A snarl twists his features. He grabs my wrist. I flinch from his touch, but August doesn’t notice. Or care. 

He bellows out an order before sweeping me off my feet. 

I struggle in his embrace. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, August. I’m fine!”

“Be quiet.”

I tell him to go do something that banks the fire in his eyes higher. Immune to my protests, he carries me to our room, kicking open the door. Once we’re inside, he throws me onto the bed. He rips the knot at my waist. In a frenzy to remove it, he tears my collar to my breast.

“Are you crazy? That was silk!”

He yanks the last stitch of clothing off my body, his trembling palms running over my skin. 

“I told you, I’m fucking okay!” I move away, heart hammering. “If you had just stopped to listen for one second.”

Relief softens his face before shadows darken it. “Why the hell were you down there?”

“Because I heard shots and you were nowhere to be found!”

“Damn it, Lily!” His fist smashes the nightstand, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. “You don’t run toward sounds of war. What were you thinking?”

Naked, I slide from the mattress, fists shaking. “I didn’t know where you were. I panicked.”

“You should’ve stayed here! Jesus, anything could’ve happened.”

“So I’m supposed to hole up here forever? I am not a goddamn pet, August! I will not wait for you to fill me in while there are people getting fired at.”

“You put yourself in danger,” he hisses. “Again!”

“I was helping a wounded man! And then you attacked that guard like a maniac. What’s wrong with me? What about you?”

The fury melts from his face but his eyes are red, as though he ran through a field of smoke. “I apologize.”

“Yeah, you sound really sorry.” I return his glare with interest. “Tone it the fuck down.”

Despair radiates off August’s silhouette. “I don’t know how.”

Rat-at-tat. Rat-at-tat. 

I flinch at every shot of gunfire, imagining them extinguishing a human life. “You're in your thirties and you can’t control your temper?”

He shakes his head. He’s tense. Like a coiled spring. “I don’t want to be here any more than you.”

“August, this is crazy. Listen to that noise.”

“I have my whole life. There’s nothing I can do about it.” Shadows widen his bitter smile. “It was stupid of me to think you’d be happy here.”

That’s sad. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He stands from the bed, his expression unfathomable. Unbridled rage wrestles with restraint. I feel the chaos wafting from him. Waves of rage, but not toward me. Never for me.

I block him as he attempts to leave, palming his chest. “Stay.”

“Lily, you don’t understand. I’ve had this problem ever since my mother passed.” He searches for the right words as I approach him. “I can’t turn my emotions off for people I care about.”

“Then don’t.” I link our hands, guiding him to my breast. “Get it out of your system.”

His heart pulses against my ribs. “What?”

I wrap my arms around his neck, meeting his lips with mine. “Fuck me.”

My command triggers something dark inside him—the unhinged beast I met on my wedding night.

He throws me on the mattress. I’m yanked to the edge as he grabs my hips. My legs encircle his waist. He struggles from his jeans, freeing himself. A growl reverberates from his throat as he strokes my thighs. Excitement throbs through my veins. 

August positions himself and drives into me. His cock slams the breath from my lungs. My wrists are pinned. He attacks me. He grazes my breasts, sucking and biting. With every ruthless thrust, I’m thrown back. He keeps me from sliding too far, digging deep. 

I gasp with mingled pain and pleasure. They’re indistinguishable. He bites me. He pounds me. 

He stares at me, eyes narrowed with greed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” God yes. 

It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He fucks with his whole body. He moves with a desperate urgency, as though he’ll die if he doesn’t. The headboard crashes against the wall. 

All restraint is gone. His brutal movements cut my shouts into whimpers. He covers my nose. I sigh into his palm. 

I never knew I wanted to be taken like this—with punishing thrusts as he muffles my cries. It’s liberating. He loses himself and so do I. He glides through me, and I tighten. The pressure builds to ecstasy, and I beg him for release. I lose my voice. 

His hands slide from my lips, capturing my moan. He catches my tongue. And then he anchors himself, collapsing into me. A groan jolts him from me. My orgasm joins his, shuddering and shaking down my limbs.

He kisses me, rough at first, and then softening as the light fades. He pulls back. A smile staggers over his face.

I trace his grin. “See? You’re not angry.”

“Hmm.” He strokes my hips, nudging himself deeper. “I don’t think I’m done.”