I was going to die.
I would never see my mom again. Oh God, she would be devastated. I couldn’t die this way, for no reason. I begged silently, prayed someone would find me before it was too late, but everything was fading. I slipped into an inky abyss. The pressure wasn’t bad now. The rawness in my throat seemed to ease. The pain was leaving. I was leaving, fading into the darkness.
Suddenly, his hands were gone, and there was a fleshy sound of a body hitting the road in the distance. It felt like I was at the bottom of a deep well and the source of the noise was too far above.
But I could breathe again. I gluttonously ate each breath, drawing the beautiful air down my bruised throat, already feeding my starved organs. I started to cough as I gulped air.
Someone cried out in a soft, musical language I’d never heard before, and then there was another curse and punch being thrown. A body landed next to me, and I rolled slightly. Pain caused me to wince, but I welcomed it. It meant I was alive.
They were fighting in the shadows. One of them—a man—grabbed another, holding him several feet into the air. The strength was shocking, brutal. Inhuman. Impossible.
Rolling up, I was wracked by another round of coughing. I leaned over, putting weight on my wrist, and yelped.
“Dammit!” a deep voice exploded.
There was a flash of intense red-yellow light. Streetlamps down the street exploded, casting the entire block in darkness. I doubled over as I heaved. Gravel crunched and tips of hiking boots came into view. I threw my arm out to keep whoever it was back.
“It’s okay. He’s gone. Are you okay?” A gentle hand was on my shoulder, steadying me. In a distant part of my brain, I thought his voice sounded familiar. “Just sit still.” I tried to lift my head, but dizziness nearly stole my breath. My vision blurred and then cleared. My left eye was now swollen shut and throbbed with each beat of my pulse. “Everything is okay.” A warmth started in my shoulder, flowing down my arm and circling my wrist, easing sore muscles and delving deeper. I was reminded of days lying out on white beaches, basking in the sun.
“Thank you for…” My words trailed off as my rescuer’s face swam into focus. High cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips formed before my eyes. A face that was striking and so cold that it could not possibly belong to the same heat that was slowly swallowing my entire body. Vibrant, rare green eyes met mine.
“Kat,” Daemon said. Concern was etched in his forehead. “Are you still with me?”
“You,” I whispered as my head lulled to the side. I vaguely noticed it was no longer raining.
He arched a coal-black brow. “Yes, it’s me.”
Dazed, I glanced down where he was holding my wrist. It wasn’t throbbing any longer but his touch was doing something else. I jerked my arm back, confused.
“I can help you,” he insisted, reaching for me again.
“No!” I shrieked and it hurt.
He hovered a moment longer and then straightened, his eyes glancing down at my wrist. “Whatever. I’ll call the police.”
I tried not to listen to him as he spoke to the police on the phone. Eventually, I was able to catch my breath. “Thank…you.” My voice was hoarse, and it hurt to speak.
“Don’t thank me.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Dammit, this is my fault.”
How was this his fault? My brain wasn’t working correctly yet, because that didn’t make much sense. I leaned back carefully and peered up—way up—and I immediately wished I hadn’t. He looked fierce. And protective.
“See something you like, Kitten?”
I dropped my gaze…to his clenched hands. His knuckles weren’t even scratched. “Light—I saw light.”
“Well, they do say there is light at the end of the tunnel.”
I shrank away from the reminder I’d almost died tonight.
Daemon crouched down. “Dammit, I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. How bad are you hurt?”
“My throat…It hurts.” I touched it gently and winced. “So does my wrist. I’m not…sure if it’s broken.” I lifted my arm gingerly. It was swollen and already turning an attractive shade of blue and violet. “But there was a flash…of light.” He studied my arm. “It might be broken or sprained. Is that all?”
“All? The man…he was trying to kill me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I understand that. I was hoping he didn’t break anything important.” He stopped for a second, thinking. “Like your skull?”
“No…I don’t think so.”
He let out a breath. “Okay, okay.” He stood and looked around. “Why were you out here anyway?”
“I …wanted to go to the library.” I had to stop till the rawness in my throat subsided. “It wasn’t that…late. It’s not…like we are in a crime-ridden…city. He said he needed help…flat tire.”
His eyes were wide with disbelief. “A stranger approaches you for help in a dark parking lot and you go and help him? That has to be one of the most careless things I’ve heard in a long time.” He crossed his arms and stared down at me. “I bet you think things through, right? Accept candy from strangers and get into vans with a sign that reads free Kittens?” I gasped.
He began to pace. “Sorry wouldn’t have been helpful if I didn’t come, now would it?”
I ignored the last statement. “So why were…you out here?” My throat was finally feeling slightly better. It still hurt like a bitch, but at least every word wasn’t like being pulled across concrete.