Page 82 of Blood Bound

“Darick,” she whimpers, and the agony in her voice rips a hole in my heart. “I can’t—”

“Go!” I roar, letting my vampiric nature surface fully. My fangs are bared, and I can feel the change in my eyes as they shift to a predatory crimson.

The door bursts open, and the room floods with our pursuers – a group of witches led by Heath. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene, shock and anger playing on his face.

I bare my fangs in a feral grin, a bloodthirsty laugh rumbling from my chest. This is a game I know. And I play it well.

“Hello, witch boy,” I snarl. “Let’s dance.”

25

Chapter 25

Rowan

Istand frozen, paralyzed with horror, as I realize what Darick’s about to do. The broken windows beckon, promising freedom just a few feet away. But the encroaching sunlight paints a different picture – one where Darick burns to save us.

“No,” I whisper, my voice drowned out the blaring alarms.

Darick’s back is to me, his body a shield between us and the approaching threat. The pendant he pressed into my hand burns hot against my skin. I don’t know what it means, but it seems to be important to him, so I clutch it firmly.

“Run!” His voice is a barely recognizable rasp. “Take Sarah and go!”

I’m rooted to the spot, lungs refusing to draw air. Sarah is sagging beside me, hanging onto me to hold herself upright, and I know there’s no chance she’ll survive whatever they have planned for us. Every fiber of my being screams to run, to take the escape Darick’s offering. But my feet won’t budge.

A trickle of sunlight creeps across the floor, inching closer to where we stand. My mind races, desperately seeking a solution.

There has to be another way.

I can’t let him die for me. It’s not right. I can’t bear it!

“Darick,” I choke out, reaching for him. My fingers brush his arm, and I feel him tense. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t take his eyes off the door, but I know he’s listening.

“I can’t—” I start, but the words catch in my throat. I can’t what? Let him do this? Leave him behind? The realization sucks the breath from me: Despite everything, despite all my anger and distrust, I can’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Go!” There’s such force in the word that it knocks me back a step.

The door bursts open, and time seems to slow as Heath and a dozen others pour in. Darick laughs. He freaking laughs! I hear him growl a challenge to our attackers, seemingly oblivious to the sunlight that creeps ever closer.

My magic flares within me, responding to my desperate need. But it’s weak, suppressed by whatever they’ve done to me. There’s only one option. Tightening my grasp around Sarah’s waist, I haul her arm behind my neck, using it to keep her on her feet. And then I plow every ounce of my strength into my legs, and I run, pulling Sarah’s limp form toward the window, my muscles screaming in protest.

The rising sun paints a deadly path across the floor, seeping ever closer to where Darick stands. Horror rises in my throat as I realize what it means for him.

“Come on,” I grunt, half-dragging Sarah. Her feet barely move, and I’m practically carrying her dead weight.

The sunlight inches forward, an unstoppable tide of golden death. I can’t look back at Darick. I can’t bear to see what might be happening to him. The sounds of struggle behind us grow louder, punctuated by snarls and screams.

As we reach the window, shards of broken glass glint in the early morning light, promising more pain. But it’s nothing compared to what awaits us if we stay.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Sarah, unsure if she can even hear me. Then, with a deep breath, I tighten my grip on her and throw us both through the window.

Glass slices into my skin as we crash through. The world tilts and spins, and for a moment, all I know is the rush of air and the sting of a thousand tiny cuts. We hit the ground hard, Sarah’s weight driving the air from my lungs.

Pain blooms across my body, but I force myself to move. We’re not safe yet. I struggle to my feet, pulling Sarah up with me. My legs shake, threatening to give out, but I push forward.

We’ve escaped, but at what cost? The image of Darick facing certain death burns in my mind, spurring me onward despite the agony coursing through my battered body.

“Come on,” I rasp, urging Sarah to move faster. But she’s barely conscious, her feet trailing uselessly.

---