Page 191 of Bitten & Burned
He’d told me to back away from the door. Good thing I wasn’t near it, because I couldn’t move. Not in the state I was in.
Pain everywhere. Just… white hot pain. No way to describe it beyond that. Excruciating. All-encompassing. The only relief, if you could call it that, came from knowing Quil was here. Of course, he was here. And he was going to save me.
I tried to call to him. To tell him the door was unlocked. But I couldn’t make my voice loud enough.
It took him a few tries, but he finally broke through the door. It was thick wood. I was impressed he was even able to get through it without an axe.
The look in his eyes explained it. I’d seen him like that oncebefore: in the library, his gaze wild with bloodlust as he bit me. This was the same raw intensity, but it wasn’t hunger that drove it now. It was fear. For me.
I tried to reach for him, but my hand wouldn’t lift off the ground. All I managed was a slow, fish-like flop in his direction.
“Quil,” I murmured.
“Oh, sweetheart…” he whispered, shuddering before coming to me.
“The amulet…” I whispered. “I need it off.”
When his fingers closed around it, the truth hit me—the heat radiating through my chest wasn’t just from the sigil; it was the amulet itself, blistering hot. He hissed, snatching his hand back, then lunged for it again, grabbing the pendant and yanking hard.
Instant relief flooded me when the silver chain snapped. I was still in pain, but it wasn’t all-encompassing. I would be able to leave.
He dropped the gods-forsaken thing to the ground. Finally, it was gone. Off of me.
He lifted me easily. I gave no resistance, just inhaled sharply when he did. Pain twinged in my joints, my muscles—like I’d run a marathon. I winced.
“Better?” he whispered.
I nodded. Moving no longer sent me into body-wracking pain. That was a good sign. I glanced at the amulet on the ground; he did too—then slammed his heel down on it.
My father had been right: that rock wasn’t bloodstone. Hells, it shattered like glass.
I inhaled again, choking on the air—not from pain, but from the shock of a weight lifting off my chest.
“S’better,” I murmured.
“Good,” he said, turning to go—then stopped dead in his tracks.
I turned to look, and panic rose like bile in my throat.
Silas stood in the doorway.
Quil tightened his hold on me. “Move,” he hissed.
And Silas did.Gods, he did. Moved aside without a word, watching sadly as Quil carried me past.
“Goodbye for now, Dearheart,” he called after us.
Gods, I hated that nickname now. It made me feel dirty. I shuddered and buried my face in Quil’s chest. I kept it there as he carried me out of the house.
Outside, he paused for a long moment before moving again.
“Where are we going?” I asked softly.
“Someplace safe,” he replied.
“Someplace safe,” I echoed.
I’d be safe. Quil would keep me safe.
