It could be confusing sometimes when the pulse raced, and the temperature rose when he thought he had everything under control. His actions, even the words he chose, were calculated. Those were meant to accomplish a goal, yet oddly he felt blood rushing to his face in split the second between releasing her and she leaning onto him. 

Her lips were soft, but very much sure. It wasted no time and waited not for a sign that the man she poured her affection to would be capable of returning even a fracture of it. Sometime, somewhere during the past few days that they were forced to be together, something must have clicked inside her complex and confusing mind. Chemical reactions might have happened at the right place and at the right time, producing a state that was perceived by the woman’s consciousness as perhaps a crush or an infatuation. 

[i]“I’ve wanted to kiss you,”[/i] her voice floated in his subconscious, a memory from a not so distant past. 
 
Maybe it was the same for the proud crown prince. His heart knocked so hard in his chest at the feeling that her gentle lips and honest feelings brought. She might even feel it as his arms went around her to pull her as close as he could against him without hurting her arm or his injuries. Without hesitation, without thinking of what could come out of the thoughtless indulgence, he returned the favor. There was no hurry in the way he kissed her back, as if their life was not in peril and they had all the time in the world. He did not want to scare her away by rushing her into giving into his demands. Instead, where their lips met, there were gentleness and patience. And even if they did not have the time, they at least had that moment.

But the sound of heavy footsteps and cursing pulled Luke back into reality. As if a spell was broken, he jerked his head up to listen. In between the dwindling drops of the tiring storm were voices and orders barked. Somebody must have seen through their deception. He did not expect it to mislead them for long anyway, but he did not expect himself to be distracted as well.

“You must get away,” he commanded Rhiane rather than asked it of her. Outside the cubicle was a small sink and a wall with an exhaust window. It was just large enough for Rhiane to crawl into. The stool he carried should help her climb towards freedom.   

Luke pushed the cubicle door open, then led Rhiane out. He grabbed the stool and positioned it on the far end of the bathroom, opposite the door. “Go on. I’ll follow after you.”

Then again, before she could either argue against it or nod in agreement, a sound like an explosion disturbed the pretense of peace. The bathroom door swung open revealing a rain-drenched man armed with a rifle poised at the couple. Behind him was another man, younger, but with the same look of triumph in his eyes. “There you are, princess.” The man with the rifle cooed as Luke stepped between Rhiane and the gunpoint. “For a while, we thought that we had lost you, but you were right up our noses all this time. Clever trick.”

He took one step, then another, but the third was punctuated with a gunshot followed by a heavy thud. The rebel outside the door was on the floor, convulsing as blood pooled from his mouth and his eyes stared into Rhiane. The one with the rifle’s eyes widened in surprise. He spun around and raised the weapon to defend himself, but the royal guards were trained to be quick. A bullet had buried into the assassin’s forehead before he could even touch the trigger of his weapon. The man fell like a log, and as he cleared the view, the couple would see Tobias sanding at the doorway.