lanky, dark man, the remains of a cup in his left hand and a pool of dark liquid gradually spreading out across the tiled floor. Ten feet beyond him lay Damon.
I swore under my breath and ran over, squatting down beside him and quickly touching his neck for a pulse. It was there, but felt too quick, as if his heart was straining. His skin was cool and edging toward clammy again, meaning the heat I’d loaned him hadn’t been enough to keep him going. This wasn’t surprising considering he’d been locked up for thirteen days, and that he had stopped me before I’d really had a chance to fuel him properly.
I lightly pinched his cheek, trying to get a response. He made a sound low down in his throat—a soft growl that echoed across the silence—but otherwise didn’t move. But we couldn’t stay here. Even if Damon had managed to take care of the second guard before he’d collapsed, there was no saying that Angus or someone else wasn’t near.
I leaned down close. “Damon, we need to get out of here.”
He didn’t respond. I pinched his cheek again, harder this time, and he jerked away from my touch. His eyes flew open but his dark gaze was unfocused and his pupils large.
Behind us, something buzzed, and my heart jumped into my throat. I swung around, and saw the transmitter on the bench.
“Jay, where the hell are you? You were supposed to relieve me five minutes ago.”
Though the voice was filled with annoyance, I recognized it nonetheless. It was the man with thesilky voice—the one who’d looked forward to questioning me.
God, we
had
to get out of here. Now, before that man came up to check what was going on.
I pressed a hand against Damon’s chest and reached for the fires deep inside me. They were still little more than smoldering embers, but I grabbed for them anyway, forcing the heat down through my fingers and into Damon’s body. It left me cold and slightly dizzy, but he jerked under my touch and the unfocused look left his eyes.
“Jay, if you’re asleep,” that silky voice said again, “I’m going to kick your fucking butt.”
The anger in the guard’s voice was sharper. If he came up here to see what was going on, we’d be in trouble.
“We need to go,” I said, pulling my hand from Damon’s still cool flesh. He needed sunlight desperately. The little amount of heat he was getting from me just wasn’t enough to keep his body going for very long.
I rose. My head spun again, but I resisted the urge to grab at the nearby countertop and offered him a hand instead. He ignored it and pushed to his feet, his jaw thrusting out and determination evident in the fierce glint in his eyes.
“Wait,” he said, and staggered across to the man on the floor.
He dropped down beside him, his knees splashing into the edges of the coffee spill, and pressed a hand against the unconscious guard’s chest. Flickers of flame jumped from the guard’s skin to Damon’s fingertips, and I realized that he was stealing the man’s heat.
This was
not
a practice that had council approval—in any way, shape, or form—but I couldn’t lend him more of my own heat, and if we were to have any hope against the remaining guard, then Damon needed to gain some strength.
I crossed my arms and glanced across at the outside doorway, half expecting the other guard to burst in and catch us. He didn’t, but that didn’t stop the nerves or the crawling need to be gone.
“Okay,” Damon said eventually. He pushed to his feet and stepped across the prone guard, who had a distinctly ashen cast to his features now. He’d be weak when he came to, and I couldn’t be unhappy about that, not when our escaping could depend on it.
Damon caught my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine. His flesh was far warmer than before, his grip firm. Part of me wanted to steal some of that heat for myself, but I resisted the temptation. He needed it. I didn’t.
We moved quickly through the rest of the kitchen and out a side exit.
I swore under my breath and ran over, squatting down beside him and quickly touching his neck for a pulse. It was there, but felt too quick, as if his heart was straining. His skin was cool and edging toward clammy again, meaning the heat I’d loaned him hadn’t been enough to keep him going. This wasn’t surprising considering he’d been locked up for thirteen days, and that he had stopped me before I’d really had a chance to fuel him properly.
I lightly pinched his cheek, trying to get a response. He made a sound low down in his throat—a soft growl that echoed across the silence—but otherwise didn’t move. But we couldn’t stay here. Even if Damon had managed to take care of the second guard before he’d collapsed, there was no saying that Angus or someone else wasn’t near.
I leaned down close. “Damon, we need to get out of here.”
He didn’t respond. I pinched his cheek again, harder this time, and he jerked away from my touch. His eyes flew open but his dark gaze was unfocused and his pupils large.
Behind us, something buzzed, and my heart jumped into my throat. I swung around, and saw the transmitter on the bench.
“Jay, where the hell are you? You were supposed to relieve me five minutes ago.”
Though the voice was filled with annoyance, I recognized it nonetheless. It was the man with thesilky voice—the one who’d looked forward to questioning me.
God, we
had
to get out of here. Now, before that man came up to check what was going on.
I pressed a hand against Damon’s chest and reached for the fires deep inside me. They were still little more than smoldering embers, but I grabbed for them anyway, forcing the heat down through my fingers and into Damon’s body. It left me cold and slightly dizzy, but he jerked under my touch and the unfocused look left his eyes.
“Jay, if you’re asleep,” that silky voice said again, “I’m going to kick your fucking butt.”
The anger in the guard’s voice was sharper. If he came up here to see what was going on, we’d be in trouble.
“We need to go,” I said, pulling my hand from Damon’s still cool flesh. He needed sunlight desperately. The little amount of heat he was getting from me just wasn’t enough to keep his body going for very long.
I rose. My head spun again, but I resisted the urge to grab at the nearby countertop and offered him a hand instead. He ignored it and pushed to his feet, his jaw thrusting out and determination evident in the fierce glint in his eyes.
“Wait,” he said, and staggered across to the man on the floor.
He dropped down beside him, his knees splashing into the edges of the coffee spill, and pressed a hand against the unconscious guard’s chest. Flickers of flame jumped from the guard’s skin to Damon’s fingertips, and I realized that he was stealing the man’s heat.
This was
not
a practice that had council approval—in any way, shape, or form—but I couldn’t lend him more of my own heat, and if we were to have any hope against the remaining guard, then Damon needed to gain some strength.
I crossed my arms and glanced across at the outside doorway, half expecting the other guard to burst in and catch us. He didn’t, but that didn’t stop the nerves or the crawling need to be gone.
“Okay,” Damon said eventually. He pushed to his feet and stepped across the prone guard, who had a distinctly ashen cast to his features now. He’d be weak when he came to, and I couldn’t be unhappy about that, not when our escaping could depend on it.
Damon caught my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine. His flesh was far warmer than before, his grip firm. Part of me wanted to steal some of that heat for myself, but I resisted the temptation. He needed it. I didn’t.
We moved quickly through the rest of the kitchen and out a side exit.
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