“You haven’t been a part of our world long enough to know just how wrong things can go,” said Logan.
This was not the kind of lovers’ argument Cain wanted to witness. It was a private affair, and he wanted to help keep it that way.
He stood up and left the room with Rory in his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him, muting sounds of their increasingly heated argument.
When he got to the kitchen, he paused long enough to ask, “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. You can put me down now.”
Cain grudgingly eased her to the floor, holding her hand and making sure she was steady on her feet. She swayed, and her eyes didn’t seem to focus on any one thing. He wasn’t sure if that was from grogginess, or if her visions had come back despite his touch.
“I’m fine. You can let go.”
Shame burned in his cheeks. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not if you want me in any shape to drive.”
She nodded, her head wobbly, and laced her fingers through his. “I’d kill us right now if I got behind the wheel, but I really want to leave. If I did anything to hurt Hope, I’d never forgive myself.”
Cain knew all too well how horrible hurting another felt. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rory suffering through such guilt. “I won’t let that happen.”
He led her outside to his truck. Rory crawled in, moving over so he could get in behind the wheel. He kept his grip on her fingers tight so they didn’t accidentally slip away. Not that that was any hardship. He liked the feeling of her delicate fingers laced through his, the warmth of her skin, and the trembling streamers of energy vibrating between them. It was all he could do to focus on operating the vehicle safely.
Cain drove out of the city toward Dabyr, pleased that she was on her way to where she belonged. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to take her, but he was counting this as a victory nonetheless.
Until she went stiff beside him and cast him a glare so acidic he could feel it against the side of his face. “You knocked me out,” she said as if just now remembering. “I was going to leave and you knocked me out.”
Cain blew out a breath and accepted his incoming scolding. “I sent you to sleep. You left me no choice.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ve left me no choice. Pull the fuck over.”
“Why?”
“Because in about ten seconds I’m letting go of your hand, and I’d rather not die in a fiery crash and spill my blood everywhere so the monsters find us and eat our corpses.”
* * *
Ronan preferred the role of hunter to prey.
He could smell the fetid stench of demons tracking him, hear their skittering hearts racing. There were more than a dozen of them following along behind him. He couldn’t very well let them follow him to the human couple whose sick, blooded son he needed to heal.
Ronan led them away from his destination and found a quiet, dark loading dock at the back of a vacant warehouse. There were no prying eyes here—no reason for him to waste his precious, dwindling stores of magic on shielding what he was about to do from sight of humans.
The cold air seeped through his leather trench coat, into his bones. The chill slowed his reflexes and made his joints ache with the need for warmth.
He was on his own out here—the way he preferred. Despite the fact that a Theronai’s blade would be handy right about now, his job was simpler when he had to make no explanations to another for his actions.
Project Lullaby needed him, and his dedication to saving his race had to be absolute.
Ronan drew his sword and turned to face the oncoming threat. His gaze cut through the darkness, latching on to the first demon brave enough to show itself.
It was small, but he knew better than to let that make him overconfident. Even the tiniest demon could kill a man just as dead as a giant one could. The only difference was that he had a chance at defeating something so small without exhausting his dwindling power.
The demon’s thick insectoid tail was curved up over its back, with three long barbs gleaming from the tip. It moved fast, low to the ground, its claws making only the faintest sound along the cold asphalt. A pale green glow spilled from its six eyes as it neared Ronan.
In the distance more of the things appeared, their eyes lighting with hunger and excitement. He heard the fluttering of their hearts speed with anticipation as they scrambled to reach him.
Ronan counted twenty before the first one got close enough for him to strike. He speared it with the tip of his sword and flung it against a wall hard enough to make it splatter. By the time he turned back around, another three of the things were at his feet.
He kicked two away and stomped on a third.
More flooded close, and Ronan had no choice but to jump back onto the thin ledge of concrete left outside the closed dock door.
The demons crawled up the wall, not even slowing.
Ronan no longer had the luxury of options. His sword was no good against so many of the things. He was going to have to dip into his reserves.
He gathered power from his cells, feeling it tingle along his limbs as a faint blue light seeped from his skin. His fingertips blazed like blue flame as the energy coalesced into a searing disk.
Ronan slammed that power down on the horde at his feet, ordering the disk to roll over the demons and crush them as it passed.
The small creatures screamed as they died. Only a few escaped, cowering in the shadows nearby.
His flesh felt like it was sagging on his bones. Every breath was labored, every beat of his heart an effort. A deep chill sank into him, shaking him from the inside out, whispering to him that he was never going to be warm again.