Page 106 of Claimed
His eyes widen a moment before the lower half of his face explodes in a burst of crimson and amber light.
Scalding black ick covers my neck and arm, but I barely feel it.
I wave my hand and the ichor disappears as I crouch at Onyx’s side. Her dark hair is drenched in sweat and stuck to her ashen cheeks. I lay my hand on her cheek, cupping her too cool skin.
She peers at me from behind heavy lids. “Caine?”
“Angel,” I say gruffly, scouring her body for the injury I can smell in the air.
I glance along her suit clad body and find glistening fabric on her strong thigh. The sound that pours from me is harsh, guttural.
She grips my hand, holding me to her. “You found me,” she says weakly.
My shoulders droop. “Of fucking course, baby. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her smile is tremulous. “I’m sorry, Caine. I didn’t want you to get—”
“Shush,” I say as firmly as I can. “Don’t talk, okay? Save your energy. I got you.”
Sliding my arms around her, I lift her against me. My portal is out. She has too much human blood in her to withstand the magick for long.
I scan the alley. A door near the rear corridor is visible under a softly glowing yellow bulb. I stalk toward it and put my shoulder into the steel panel. There is a crack and it bangs open under the onslaught. I carry Onyx inside.
Steel shelves line the short entryway. An open archway waits at the end of the hall. Kicking the door closed, I motion and my magick seals it in place. Onyx breathes harshly in the stillness and her blood soaks my arm.
Anger roars through me and it’s all I can do not to set her down and dismantle the demon corpses in the alley. To rend them even in death.
In the main room, the windows of the pharmacy are shielded by metal blinds and the glass door is covered too. I set Onyx on the low counter and help her to lay down. She watches me, a faint flush of pink in her otherwise gray face.
My fingers brush back her damp, dark hair. “Hold on, baby. Just hold on.”
I move around the older facility, loading my arms with bandages and thick dressings. A pack of sutures waits in a bin at the back of the store, and I pray I can remember what Gage taught me.
I have to remember.
I set everything beside her and carefully unwind the fabric on her thigh.
The sight of her gorgeous tan flesh shredded by three jagged lines is enough to leave me gripping the counter for control. I force myself to breathe. To focus.
Cleaning out the wounds, I tear into the sutures with my teeth and lift the threaded needle. “Baby, I’m going to have to do this without anything to numb you.”
She watches me as I look up, her expression tight. Feverish. “I’ve had worse.”
Those words fracture something inside me. But I pinch the bottom of the first tear and slip the recurved needle under her skin and rock it out the other side.
She makes a small sound and her breathing grows labored as she starts to writhe.
“Easy, baby,” I croon. “Easy.”
“It hurts, Caine,” she sobs. “So fucking bad.”
My vision flares. I massage her side with my blood covered hand. “I know, baby. Just listen to the sound of my voice, okay? Just listen to me speak.” I tie off the first stitch and start the second. “Who were those fuckers working for?”
“Helios,” she manages. “They tracked me to my hotel.”
“Were you really going to run?” I ask, trying not to let the pain of that reality enter my voice.
“It was my deal with Azz, Caine. I couldn’t let you risk everything for me.”
