Page 65 of Pain

I cleared my throat. “Drak Ferrin.”

He grunted, but it wasn’t a grunt of recognition. Then he swung the light back to Omaera. “And you?”

“Omaera Playfair, sir. Please, we’re just looking for a place to hide fromdanger, and where my friend can heal. We won’t cause you any trouble, I swear.”

There was that word again, “friend.”

“Haven’t met a demon so … polite in a long while,” he said, a hue of amusement in his voice. “Why are you so polite?”

“I …” Omaera glanced down at me, before meeting the man’s gaze again, “I was raised by my aunt, and she taught me that you get more flies with honey than you do vinegar. That kindness gets you further in life than hostility, and you never know what kind of day someone else is having. So until they give you reason to be anything else, be kind.”

The demon grunted again, then finally swung the light to show his face, holding the torch beneath his chin so it was like he was sitting around a campfire about to tell a scary story. He didn’t look nearly as old as he sounded. But the silver in his short-cropped beard made his face almost glow. “You say you’re friends of Kenvin’s?”

“Yes, sir.” Omaera nodded.

The demon’s head bobbed, and he grunted for the umpteenth time. “All right. Come on then. Bisibras are nasty, but you don’t want to be out here when the gorbaths start hunting. Wretched little fuckers. They start feasting on their prey before it’s even dead. At least bisibras have the decency to kill you before they eat you.”

“I-is that’s what in the barn?” Omaera asked. “Gorbaths?”

“Eh?” The demon asked, cocking his head to the side before shining the light on the building behind me. Then he chuckled. “No. Those are magsiths. I’m a magsith farmer. They’re harmless. But I have to put them in the barn for the night, otherwise the bisibras and gorbaths will get ‘em.” He ambled forward, all six-foot-whatever of him, and bent down. Grabbing my arm, he hoisted me up. “Can you walk, vampire? Or do I need to carry you?”

“I can walk,” I said, wincing with every step.

The big demon kept his arm under mine and we walked slow. Omaera had the flashlight now, and up ahead, she shone it on a humble one-story farmhouse. A smaller, daintier figure than the massive demon beside me stood in the open doorway.

“Friends of Kenvin’s,” our host said when we reached the woman standing on the porch, her arms crossed over her chest. She had brown skin—South Asian descent, most likely—and wore a matching shorts and T-shirt pajama set in black. Her hair was in two long, dark braids over her shoulders. “This here’s my mate, Vipelli, but everyone calls her Vip. You can call me Shoy.”

Vip didn’t say anything, but moved aside so Omaera, Shoy, and I could step into the house. Vip closed the door behind us and flicked on a light, revealing a kitchen very similar to Kenvin’s back in town. Nothing fancy, but well-maintained and functional. However, unlike Kenvin’s, which was all different shades of blue, Vip and Shoy’s kitchen was various shades of green.

Shoy led me over to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and set me down. Omaera stepped forward and removed my jacket, then started to work her fingers on the buttons of my shredded and bloody dress shirt. I didn’t have the energy to tell her to stop.

“Shit,” Shoy breathed, leaning back against the counter and crossing his enormous arms over his chest. “Bastard got you good.”

I glanced at the enormous demon and nodded before moving my focus to Omaera. With terror in her eyes, she inspected my injuries. My breathing was far less labored now, but my ribs were still cracked and it hurt to breathe. I was no longer coughing up blood though, which meant my punctured and collapsed lung must have started to heal.

“Why are a demon and a vampire out in the middle of the desert?” Vip asked, her voice softer and smoother than I expected. “And more importantly,howdid you end up at our farm?”

Ignoring her for a moment, Omaera kept her attention on me. “Do you need to feed again?”

I probably should have, but I shook my head. I’d already taken enough from her for now. “I just need to rest.”

“I’ll go prepare the guest room,” Shoy said. “We don’t get guests often, so it’s full of random stuff right now.” He squeezed his mate’s shoulder, then took off down a hallway to the left.

Omaera met Vip’s gaze and maybe it was because I was sending all spare energyto my broken body parts that I didn’t understand, but something unspoken passed between the women in that kitchen. A sharpness filled Vip’s eyes, making them widen. Her nostrils flared, and Omaera’s brows lifted just a little.

“Do you have a bathroom or somewhere Drak can go clean up?” Omaera asked Vip. “I’d be happy to answer every burning question you have, but first I’d like him to be comfortable and resting.”

Hesitation, or perhaps it was obstinance, flashed in Vip’s gaze, but it only lasted a second before the demon nodded, uncrossed her arms, and led the way for us to the bathroom which was next door to the bedroom Shoy was making up for me.

“Do you need a hand?” Omaera asked me, once I was set up, sitting on the toilet with the lid down, a warm wet cloth in my hand.

“I should be okay,” I replied. “I’ll call if I need anything.”

I would have sooner she stayed with me, but I already felt more than a burden to her—to the whole group. I just kept getting injured. I was the weakest of us all and I’d never been weak a day in my life. Was this part of the Mate’s Ache? Would I be more resilient, and have my regular strength back once we mated?

Omaera squeezed my shoulder, then took her leave of me in the bathroom. But she stopped on the threshold, wedging herself between the jamb and the partially closed door. “I’m really glad you didn’t die, Fangs.” Her smile was sweet, almost shy. “As much as you annoy me, you’re also starting to grow on me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like a fungus.”

That made me smirk. “Fungi are an integral part of the ecosystem.”

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