Read Online Demon's Plaything by Lydia Rowan - Free Book Online

transparent against her brown skin in the low light of the den. But now that she’d seen it, acknowledged it was there, it was a sight she was unable to unsee, a physical manifestation of the fragility that she’d tried to ignore but that would no longer be denied.
    Her grip loosened, and she was faintly aware of the papers she held slipping through her fingers and falling to the floor. And then her vision was blurred, clouded by tears that she didn’t try to control.
    “You can’t. I won’t let you,” Shayla said around the tears.
    Nana smiled the smile she had used all through Shayla’s life. “You can’t stop it, dear. Neither can I.”
    “But you can’t just quit, give up! You always told me not to quit, not ever to quit!” she practically screeched.
    “I also told you to pick your battles. I’ve picked mine, and I’m at peace with it.”
    “I’m not,” she said as she walked across the room and settled at Nana’s feet as she had so many times in the past.
    Nana patted her head. “You will be.”
    Shayla again heard the finality in her voice and couldn’t bear to look up.
    “What can I do?”
    “Just be with me while you can. And take care of your brother like you always have.”
    “I will, Nana. I promise.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Thwack .
    The violent sound of fist hitting flesh rang loud, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd, and the bright red spray of blood that flew from the combatant’s mouth only made the roars louder.
    It turned Shayla’s stomach.
    Everything in her screamed at her to jump in, stop this madness, but she did nothing. She’d done a lot of that recently, and it was taking its toll. This was the fourth—no fifth—of these she’d come to, and so far, stitches and some general patchwork had been the extent of her medical care.
    Still, she hated it. And she knew she was on borrowed time. Something terrible was going to happen here; someone could die, and she would, at least in some way, be responsible.
    Unable to watch the fight that continued, she scanned the crowd and was again struck by the range of people in attendance. All races, all genders, seemingly every class, gamblers, curiosity seekers, pretty much any person she could imagine, all together to enjoy the show. In a way it was pretty spectacular. Other than her emergency room, Shayla couldn’t think of another place where such a dynamic mix of people would congregate willingly. Too bad it was in service of something so ugly.
    Ugh.
    That was another thing she hated about this. It made her morose, forced her philosophical side to consider the human condition and whatnot. So not her speed. She was a healer; she fixed things. Give her a broken bone, she’d set it, cardiac arrest, she’d do CPR, but leave her to figure out what motivated these individuals, let alone her role in it all, and she was stumped. And she didn’t like the feeling.
    Her gaze snagged on Ian, who was across the room holding court. Then she looked to one of the men standing next to him. It was the guy Lottie had introduced her to—Craig? No Greg—Williams. Odd that he would be here, but then maybe Lottie had mentioned what Shayla had said. But then again, he seemed perfectly relaxed, at ease with everything that was happening around him. Maybe his reason for being here was something else altogether. At this point, nothing would surprise her. She sighed, unable to devote energy to that mystery but equally unable to pretend that Greg’s presence here didn’t raise flags.
    Then she glanced back at Ian. He too seemed relaxed, more at ease. Maybe whatever…whatever had been hanging over his head—she still couldn’t bring herself to ask for details, willing to acknowledge that she didn’t have the mental space to dedicate more attention to worrying about Ian than she already did—had been resolved, and she could take a step back. She needed to take a step back.
    As she stood, a tingle slid across