Page 115 of Dark Awakening

Before I can move, inky tendrils bind Rhyland in midair. He howls in fury as more shadows slither over me, slowly dragging me towards Azrael's clutches.

Lucian and Erik launch themselves at Azrael, but he swats them aside like insects. They crash limply to the ground, groaning.

"Now, my pet," Azrael croons, caressing my face as I cringe away. "Time to take your rightful place at my side..."

Though every fiber of my being recoils, some last reserve of defiance rises within me. I will not surrender silently—better to fight with my final breath.

As Azrael's shadows drag me toward his clutches, hate and rage ignite within. I will not surrender quietly to this fiend. "I will...never...be yours," I rasp, my damaged voice ringing with conviction. Mustering every ounce of strength left, I channel all my fury into pure white heat.

Azrael's gloating eyes widen in sudden alarm as I unleash a blazing orb of energy right at his chest. He dissipates into smoke and shadow, narrowly avoiding obliteration. The blast leaves me spent, but triumph flares for this small victory.

Before I can collapse, familiar arms catch me. Rhyland cradles me close, tenderness and pride mingling in his gaze. I cling weakly to him, drawing comfort from his solid strength.

Around us, Lucian, Adrian and Erik groan, struggling to rise after Azrael's onslaught. Though battered, determination still burns in their eyes. My brave defenders gather around us once more.

"Remind me not to piss you off, Firecracker," Lucian mutters with a pained chuckle. Erik squeezes my shoulder in silent solidarity.

Rhyland sweeps me up and blurs into motion, his speed leaving us a vanished ghost in the darkness. I cling to him as we race to safety, my head swimming and stomach roiling with every jostling step.

We reach the car, and Rhyland gently climbs in with me. Lucian pushes the SUV recklessly as Rhyland cradles me in his lap. Shivering uncontrollably, I'm pathetically grateful when he removes his shirt to cover my nakedness. Still, I tremble, wracked by bone-deep shock and the lingering drugs in my system. Lucian continues hurtling down the highway while I battle the twin demons of fear and nausea.

"Drink, Angel," Rhyland urges, pressing his bleeding wrist to my lips.

I eagerly swallow the thick, coppery blood, citrus, and cinnamon, feeling its restorative effects spreading through me. My wounds begin knitting together under its influence, bones snapping back into place. I drink desperately until the raging fire in my throat finally ebbs.

"Thank you," I rasp, voice still a ruined echo of itself.

Rhyland smiles tenderly, leaning in to kiss me softly. "There she is," he whispers.

His evident relief at hearing my voice almost undoes me, but I blink back grateful tears. Pulling him close, I breathe him in, savoring this quiet stolen moment together.

As the aches slowly recede from my muscles, I notice Rhyland's own untreated injuries, guilt flooding me. "You're hurt; let me help you," I plead urgently.

But Rhyland gazes at me with bottomless love and protection. "I'm alright, Angel," he assures me, kissing my lips gently. "Just rest now. You're safe."

Too drained to argue, I relax into him. His arms around me are a balm, allowing me to finally block out the memories of fear and pain, if only for now.

"About an hour out," Lucian informs us tersely from the front. I let my eyes fall shut, focusing only on the reassurance of Rhyland's presence.

Soon, I'll have to reckon with all that was done to me, all I now know. But here, cradled against the only soul who makes me feel whole, I can pretend the world has fallen away. If only for this one perfect, stolen hour.

Rhyland

60

Igently scoop Danica's slumbering form into my arms, her head lolling softly to rest against my chest as she sinks into an exhausted sleep. She'd drifted off during the tense ride back to the hotel, though faint tremors still occasionally wrack her delicate frame even in repose.

Weaving through the grandeur of the lobby, I hold Dani close. Her body is limp in my arms as I stride past the night owls. Their gazes tick over to us, curiosity flashing in their eyes, but it's snuffed out the moment they clock who I am. The danger that's coiling tight beneath my cool surface isn't something you miss twice, and they're quick to look away, no doubt about it.

Once we're inside our extravagant suite, I lay her down on the king-sized bed with all the care in the world, making sure not a single jolt disturbs her. Beneath the plush covers I tuck around her, she's a picture of peace—sighing in her sleep, turning into the pillows, and snuggling into the warm embrace of blanket and bed. Healing her with my blood has worked its magic on the outside, at least.

There she is, breathing calmly, and I feel that inferno of panic and rage inside me die down to something more like a bonfire. Her abduction, violent and senseless, has had me in a vice, but seeing her like this, even for just a stole moment of peace, gives me some room to breathe.

I brush back a stray lock of hair from her face, committing the calm to memory, and then step back. It's time to let her rest undisturbed. Pulling the door shut behind me, soft as a whisper, I step back into the war zone with a fraction lighter heart because she's safe, she's here, and she's alive.

Left to the mercy of my own stormy contemplations, I drag myself from the sanctuary of her presence to the suite's grand central living space. It's decked out to the nines — a lounge and bar that scream luxury, where my brothers are huddled together, mumbling in undertones. The moment I step in, Erik's eyes cut towards me. Even through that impenetrable wall of calm he usually puts up, I can see it — the worry carving lines into his face as he takes in the state I'm in.

"How is she?" he asks quietly. "Is Danica alright?"

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