Page 41 of Even Angels fall
I don’t know how she can manage that, with me being at least twenty centimeters taller, but it somehow works.
“You. You did this to me.” She spits the words as if I’ve lost my mind or I’m dumb.
She thinks I’m talking about her hand.
“I’m not talking about your hand,” I say, anger seeping through my pores.
I know what she must see right now. My eyes have turned to burning embers, my nostrils with anger, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve started leaking smoke from them.
I look like hell personified.
And yet, she keeps looking at me, head up, as if I’m not the biggest threat she’s ever faced.
She looked like a doll when I met her, and I wanted to break her, but I was so wrong then. She’s not a doll; she’s a warrior under that lovely shell.
And now, I want to peel all of her layers to discover what she is at her core.
But now is not the time.
Now, she’s looking at me as if I’m an idiot, and as if she can’t understand what I mean exactly.
“Your back.” I growl once again without meaning to.
Truly, I don’t know what is wrong with that damn dragon side.
“Really? I’ve got my hand shredded, and all you can see is my back being sunburned?” she asks in disbelief.
I want to growl some more, but her words bring me back to the problem at hand.
“Why aren’t you shifting? It would solve everything.” I try to soften my voice as much as I can, but I know I still sound gruff.
She’s back to looking at me in disbelief, then something snaps in her eyes.
“I can’t shift, you fucking pig,” she yells at me, like I’m a moron.
And maybe I am, because it hadn’t crossed my mind that, if she came on foot and hasn’t displayed her wings since she arrived, there might be a deeper reason than not wanting to have the only feathered wings around.
Fuck.
Did I want her to hurt because she almost managed to kill me? Yes.
Did I want her to lose the use of her hand in the process? The thought that it would teach her a lesson crosses my mind justfor a second, and then it’s gone. No, I don’t want her to lose her hand.
That thought hammers through my brain.
Would I have done things differently had I known that she couldn’t heal properly? I wish I could say no, but I’m not so sure anymore.
There’s something inside of me propelling me to her. There’s something inside of me hurting for her now.
Why can’t I render punishment in peace, for fuck’s sake?
“BRICE,” I roar, and there’s something in my voice I don’t recognize. Is that panic?
I know the bat in him will hear me, no matter where he is in Notre Dame. He’s used to tuning out everything most of the time—all bats are—but it’s not a sound he can avoid.
“Here,” he says from the corridor near our rooms.
“We need a doctor,” I say, breathless, but I don’t see him moving immediately. “Now.”
