Passion by Lauren Kate Read Free Book Online Page B

around his head. When he came to, she gave him sips of water. His breathing evened, and he stopped staring up at the sling above him in terror. He seemed to grow more comfortable.
    Al of the soldiers seemed to nd some comfort as she tended to them, even the one in the middle of the oor, who never opened his eyes.
    She cleaned the face of the boy in the top bunk who had died. She couldn’t explain why. She wanted him to be more at peace, too.
    It was impossible to tel how much time had passed. Al Luce knew was that it was dark and rank and her back ached and her throat was parched and she was exhausted—and she was bet er of than any of the men surrounding her.

    parched and she was exhausted—and she was bet er of than any of the men surrounding her.
    She’d left the soldier on the bot om left-hand stretcher until last. He’d been hit badly in the neck, and Luce was worried that he would lose even more blood if she tried to re-dress the wound. She did the best she could, sit ing on the side of his sling and sponging down his grimy face, washing some of the blood out of his blond hair. He was handsome under al the mud. Very handsome. But she was distracted by his neck, which was stil bleeding through the gauze. Every time she even got near it, he cried out in pain.
    “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “You’re going to make it.”
    “I know.” His whisper came so quietly, and sounded so impossibly sad, that Luce wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Until then, she’d thought he was unconscious, but something in her voice seemed to reach him.
    His eyelids flut ered. Then, slowly, they opened.
    They were violet.
    The jug of water fel from her hands.
    Daniel.
    Her instinct was to crawl in next to him and cover his lips with kisses, to pretend he wasn’t as badly wounded as he was.
    At the sight of her, Daniel’s eyes widened and he started to sit up. But then the blood began to ow from his neck again and his face drained of al its color. Luce had no choice but to restrain him.
    “Shhh.” She pressed his shoulders back against the stretcher, trying to get him to relax.
    He squirmed under her grip. Every time he did, bright new blood bloomed through the bandage.
    “Daniel, you have to stop fighting,” she begged. “Please stop fighting. For me.” They locked eyes for a long, intense moment—and then the ambulance came to an abrupt stop. The back door swung open. A shocking breath of fresh air flowed in. The streets outside were quiet, but the place had the feel of a big city, even in the middle of the night.
    Milan. That was where the soldier had said they were going when he assigned her to this ambulance. They must be at a hospital in Milan.
    Two men in army uniforms appeared at the doors and began sliding the stretchers out with quick precision. Within minutes, the wounded were placed on rol ing carts and wheeled of . The men pushed Luce out of the way so they could ease out Daniel’s stretcher. His eyelids were ut ering again, and she thought he reached out his hand for her. She watched from the back of the ambulance until he disappeared from sight. Then she began to tremble.
    “Are you al right?” A girl popped her head inside. She was fresh and pret y, with a smal red mouth and long dark hair pul ed into a low twist. Her nurse’s dress was more t ed than the one Luce was wearing and so white and clean it made Luce aware of how bloody and muddy she was.
    Luce hopped to her feet. She felt like she’d been caught doing something embarrassing.
    “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I just—”
    “You don’t have to explain,” the girl said. Her face fel as she looked around the inside of the ambulance. “I can tel , it was a bad one.” Luce stared as the girl heaved a bucket of water into the ambulance, then hoisted herself inside. She got to work immediately, scrubbing down the bloodied slings, mopping the oor, sending waves of red-tinged water out the back door. She replaced the soiled linens in