Wicked Edge (Realm Enforcers, #2)(16)

Daire kept his hold gentle on her wrist and hid the turmoil slashing through his gut. There was a chance the burns he was inflicting on her would scar if she didn’t get the strength to heal them and soon. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right.” She tried to smile again, her beautiful face something out of a horror flick. The right side of her face was in ribbons, down to her cheekbone, and to her skull. The roots of her teeth even showed. Waves of pain, excruciating in their intensity, rolled off her, and yet the woman was trying to smile for him. So he could do what had to be done. Her dark eyes held trust and reassurance. “Let’s get it over with, Daire,” she said, the words slurred through one side of her mouth.

He drew in air, altered the oxygen molecules around his hand, and formed a green plasma ball. Toning down the intensity took enough concentration that sweat slickened his forehead, but he hadn’t healed completely yet, and his power had ebbed. Finally, he reached the right mixture and wiped his palm across her forearm.

She jerked, and he clamped a hand on her good shoulder to hold her in place. But he didn’t need to. She stayed still, any color still remaining in her skin wiping away to leave pure white. Her gaze held his, even as her eyes filled with tears.

But she didn’t make a sound this time.

It was almost worse. To witness the struggle in her, to see the strength, humbled him. It was one of the bravest things he’d ever seen, and he wondered what kind of monsters she’d faced to learn to keep silent in pain. Smoke rose from her arm, and he lifted his palm. He’d cauterized the wounds, leaving raised burns, red and swollen.

A shudder racked her entire body. She swayed again, and he held her in place. “If we could get you warm, maybe you could heal your head without my having to cauterize it,” he murmured, taking the damaged coat and tossing it on the cold ground. She needed sustenance, and so did he. His remaining injuries weren’t life threatening, but he required fuel to create more healing cells.

She blinked, shock coming back into her eyes as she coughed. Yeah. He couldn’t leave her on the table. So he lifted her, as gently as possible, and placed her on the coat near the fire.

“I’ll be back in just a minute.”

She leaned against the wall. “You’re not wearing a shirt. Take the coat.” Half lifting her butt, she reached for the material, her gaze unfocused.

“No.” He loped toward the door. “I can create fire, and you need to stay warm. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an argument, he shoved his way outside and pushed the door closed to keep out the storm, even while reaching for the knife in his boot. The arctic air bit into his skin, and he dug deep to ignore it, unable to create much fire after the fight and loss of blood.

He kept to the sides of buildings, hoping the freezing wind and storm would mask his scent. Yet his mind remained on the woman he’d left behind. Smart and strong, the woman could fight. Who was she? It was time to get some answers, as soon as she was healed. Her interest in his mines made him uneasy. Why would the demons want planekite, which only harmed witches? And humans. Plus, if she was correct, and Bychkov wanted her betrayed and alone in the wilderness, she had a hell of an enemy. The woman was a mystery, and Daire was finished being in the dark.

More than that, he wanted her. All of her. Not just her body. Her spirit, even though she was lying to him, intrigued the hell out of him. When she’d had the opportunity to ride to safety during the fight, she’d turned and challenged danger to help him. Then she’d smiled at him, to reassure him, when he’d burned her flesh together.

Aye. It was the smile that did it.





Chapter 6


A small cove protected the luxury yacht from capsizing in the boisterous storm but failed to keep the sea from battering the hull. Ivan Bychkov sat at his desk in the office portion of the boat, a glass of aged Scotch sliding around on the top. His stomach lurched with the Norwegian sea.

Demons didn’t get seasick, damn it.

He took the glass and tipped back the warm brew, heating the nausea away.

The table was a burnished teak, as were the walls and floor. The boat pitched, and he sucked down some air. Maps covered one wall, antique and valuable, while windows showed the churning sea outside. Even the smell of Scotch failed to banish the salty scent of the sea. Man, he wanted to go home to warmth and solid ground.

Where the hell was Vegar with the woman?

He shoved the stack of papers to the side, having already signed contracts for the recent acquisitions. As the leader of an elite and powerful group of Russian demons, he had to continue buying and selling to keep the money flowing well. Good thing he had a knack for the stock market and an IQ beyond high, even for a demon. Plus, he truly enjoyed the strategy of figuring out what would happen next. His money was on biofuels and vaccines right now.

A discrete knock announced his first in command, Vadim Deeks, who stepped inside and closed the door. “The storm is too intense to leave the cove and explore along the coastline.”

“Satellite?” Ivan asked.

“No. The cloud cover is too thick.” The six-and-a-half-foot blond took a wide stance as the boat tipped. Dressed in all black with knives and various guns tucked into his uniform, the soldier narrowed his dark eyes. “If you wish, I could walk the shoreline around to the southern side and look for Vegar.”