Page 59 of Icebound

“You’re Rhode Tremblay, right?”

“That save you made was amazing!”

“Did you really set a yacht on fire?”

I dart my eyes around the ballroom, searching for the red glow of an exit sign, but I can’t see over the crowd. Black spots dot my vision as the ground crumbles beneath my feet, but it’s not the floor that’s vibrating. I look down at shaking hands.

My hands.

My hands are shaking.

Someone keeps saying my name, but it sounds like it’s being shouted at the end of a tunnel. “Nina, look at me.”

A gentle touch settles at the nape of my neck, breaking through my whirring thoughts. Rhode’s deep blue gaze ensnares mine, anchoring me to their depths. The rhythmic circles of his thumb moving beneath my hair soothes me, but I can’t trust his touch since this means nothing.

“Nina. Are you alright?” he asks. “Talk to me.”

I focus on Rhode’s face, memorizing the contours of him. Navy eyes like glittering sapphires. Curly lashes framing them like little tendrils. Full lips that look inviting even when turned in a pout.

“I’m alright,” I pant, more to convince myself. “I’m okay. I just need to breathe.”

His thick brows pinch. Maybe he’s worried. Maybe he’s not. He lifts his arm, and then he does something that stuns me—he slides his thumb right between my lips, just far enough that the wet tip touches my tongue. It shocks me enough that I forget about my racing heart for a second.

“If you want to breathe, you have to open your mouth for me,” he murmurs in my ear.

I suck in a breath of his crisp campfire scent, and my teeth accidentally graze his fingers. The sensation gives me something to focus on, so I swirl my tongue around him to distract myself from my thrumming heart. The thick veins in his neck pulse as Rhode’s throat moves in a silent bob.

“Good gi—” He pauses. “Good, Nina. Just like that. Keep breathing.”

He slides his thumb from between my lips, trailing a slippery pathway across my cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m tempted, so tempted, to wrap myself in his solid embrace.

We stand in the middle of the ballroom, breathing in sync for what could be ten seconds or ten hours, but despite the comfort of his protective cocoon, the nausea still swells because no one can control my body—not even me.

Without warning, chaos erupts inside me. The familiar feeling of impending doom overtakes my mind, and a rush of heat surges over my skin, but it feels like this isn’t really my skin.

The chandeliers grow fuzzy.

The ballroom tilts on its axis.

I can't let Rhode witness my shattering, not here, not in front of all these people. Not when he’s trying to impress his sponsor. My fingers tighten into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as if the pain will stop my body from spiraling.

I’m used to relying on myself, so I’ll be fine because I always am, but I fucking hate my brain sometimes.

I whirl around, desperate to find an escape route through the sea of faces, but crash into a waiter balancing a tray of champagne. The flutes tip over, and glass cascades down on the marble, shattering like a spray of diamonds.

A chorus of gasps fills the ballroom.

“Shit!”

“Oh my,” someone whispers.

Every eye in the room locks on me.

My chest feels like a prison for my pounding heart. I’m paralyzed, trapped by mortification. For a split second, I imagine throwing myself off a skyscraper, but even when I want to die of embarrassment, I want to live even more.

I bolt to the closest of the five exits.

“Nina, wait!”