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Authors: Georgia Lyn Hunter
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from his unsteady hand and landed on the ground with a dull thud. Curses in English, mixed with some strange language she’d never heard before flooded her ears.
Eve picked up the fallen phone and held it out. His fingers clenched. She waited, didn’t say a word. His pained, furious gaze pinned hers, almost like he hated asking for help.
“Star one. Michael. Call him.” The words were wrenched from him as he slid to the dirt-encrusted asphalt. Worried now, Eve pushed aside her hurt feelings and pressed star one. A man answered. His voice was low. Compelling. “Reynner?”
And scary.
She cleared her throat. The chilling air from the man had her speaking quickly. “Reynner’s hurt. He asked me to call you, I’m not sure where we are…” she glanced around the creepy place with its dingy buildings.
“I’ll find you.” He rang off.
Reynner rested his head against the wall, eyes closed, his hand still gripping his sword. The reek of decaying garbage from Dumpsters nearby blindsided her. Breathing through her mouth, Eve crouched beside him and pushed his cell phone into his pocket.
She hoped this Michael would come quickly. Her skin itched, she rubbed her arm. Something wet and sticky clung to her fingers. A coppery smell wafted to her. Blood?
Eve remembered that red bolt hitting him. Quickly, she pushed her hand behind his back, but he was too heavy to move. When he didn’t protest, her anxiety grew. She tried again, harder this time. Her knuckles scraped against the walls. Ignoring the burn, she ran her fingers over his body. There. Across the solid width of his back, she found the gashes in his coat and the wetness surrounding them. She pulled her hand away and stared at the bloody mess on her fingers.
“You’re hurt.”
“I know...”
Her heart slamming against her sternum, she jerked to her feet.
“No, don’t…leave…”
“I’m not.” Eve sprinted to the car and snatched the cell she’d dropped to the floorboard then hurried back to him. About to call 911 again, she saw a dark figure striding up the alley.
Please…please don’t let it be one of those things. Her can of pepper spray wouldn’t help them because there was no way she could haul Reynner to safety. Eve pushed her cell into the seam pocket of her dress, rushed to his side and picked up his sword now lying on the ground, and grunted.
Crap! The darn thing was too heavy. Heaving it, she stepped protectively in front of Reynner and struggled to appear calm—and hopefully dangerous—wielding his weapon.
The man closed in on them. The moonlight revealed dark hair falling in careless layers over wide shoulders. Shades covered his eyes, despite it being night.
Eve pointed the blade at him, her hands shaking like a leaf in a squall. She prayed she didn’t drop the weapon. Heat seeped into her palm, connecting with the metal she held. No, no dammit! Not now.
“Stop right there.”
He did. His gaze dropped to the sword she clutched and then came back to her face.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Michael.”
She recognized the dark cadence of his voice from their brief conversation on the phone minutes ago, and relief flowed through her. He must have been close by to get here this quickly.
“You have to let me tend to him, before he worsens.”
“Yes-yes, of course.” Eve stepped back and gratefully lowered the heavy weapon. The enormous man hunkered beside Reynner, pulled him forward, and examined his back. “Helluva place you chose to nap.”
“Ritz…not available.”
Michael snorted, then he glanced at her. “I have to take him with me.”
“She comes, too.”
“Why?” A cool note entered the man’s voice.
“Fuck—” A pained groan left Reynner. “Gonna keep me in this roach-infested dump ’til I answer your damn questions?”
“You know the rules, Empyrean—free will.”
Empyrean? Free will? What the heck were they going on about? Reynner needed help.
“Eve…” Reynner’s voice slurred.
Eve picked up the fallen phone and held it out. His fingers clenched. She waited, didn’t say a word. His pained, furious gaze pinned hers, almost like he hated asking for help.
“Star one. Michael. Call him.” The words were wrenched from him as he slid to the dirt-encrusted asphalt. Worried now, Eve pushed aside her hurt feelings and pressed star one. A man answered. His voice was low. Compelling. “Reynner?”
And scary.
She cleared her throat. The chilling air from the man had her speaking quickly. “Reynner’s hurt. He asked me to call you, I’m not sure where we are…” she glanced around the creepy place with its dingy buildings.
“I’ll find you.” He rang off.
Reynner rested his head against the wall, eyes closed, his hand still gripping his sword. The reek of decaying garbage from Dumpsters nearby blindsided her. Breathing through her mouth, Eve crouched beside him and pushed his cell phone into his pocket.
She hoped this Michael would come quickly. Her skin itched, she rubbed her arm. Something wet and sticky clung to her fingers. A coppery smell wafted to her. Blood?
Eve remembered that red bolt hitting him. Quickly, she pushed her hand behind his back, but he was too heavy to move. When he didn’t protest, her anxiety grew. She tried again, harder this time. Her knuckles scraped against the walls. Ignoring the burn, she ran her fingers over his body. There. Across the solid width of his back, she found the gashes in his coat and the wetness surrounding them. She pulled her hand away and stared at the bloody mess on her fingers.
“You’re hurt.”
“I know...”
Her heart slamming against her sternum, she jerked to her feet.
“No, don’t…leave…”
“I’m not.” Eve sprinted to the car and snatched the cell she’d dropped to the floorboard then hurried back to him. About to call 911 again, she saw a dark figure striding up the alley.
Please…please don’t let it be one of those things. Her can of pepper spray wouldn’t help them because there was no way she could haul Reynner to safety. Eve pushed her cell into the seam pocket of her dress, rushed to his side and picked up his sword now lying on the ground, and grunted.
Crap! The darn thing was too heavy. Heaving it, she stepped protectively in front of Reynner and struggled to appear calm—and hopefully dangerous—wielding his weapon.
The man closed in on them. The moonlight revealed dark hair falling in careless layers over wide shoulders. Shades covered his eyes, despite it being night.
Eve pointed the blade at him, her hands shaking like a leaf in a squall. She prayed she didn’t drop the weapon. Heat seeped into her palm, connecting with the metal she held. No, no dammit! Not now.
“Stop right there.”
He did. His gaze dropped to the sword she clutched and then came back to her face.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Michael.”
She recognized the dark cadence of his voice from their brief conversation on the phone minutes ago, and relief flowed through her. He must have been close by to get here this quickly.
“You have to let me tend to him, before he worsens.”
“Yes-yes, of course.” Eve stepped back and gratefully lowered the heavy weapon. The enormous man hunkered beside Reynner, pulled him forward, and examined his back. “Helluva place you chose to nap.”
“Ritz…not available.”
Michael snorted, then he glanced at her. “I have to take him with me.”
“She comes, too.”
“Why?” A cool note entered the man’s voice.
“Fuck—” A pained groan left Reynner. “Gonna keep me in this roach-infested dump ’til I answer your damn questions?”
“You know the rules, Empyrean—free will.”
Empyrean? Free will? What the heck were they going on about? Reynner needed help.
“Eve…” Reynner’s voice slurred.
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