Page 34 of Demon Monster's Little Human

Please.

I don’t speak the word aloud, but it pulses through me like a prayer.

Help him. I reach for Dain.

The magic stirs, shifting like something half-asleep, something hesitant, uncertain. It tastes my desperation.

It moves. A slow, spreading heat flows from my chest, down my arms, into him. My hands glow faintly where I press against his ribs, the wound beneath them reacting, mending.

Dain stiffens.

His breath hitches, his whole body tensing violently beneath me.

“What are you?—”

I focus harder.

His heart thunders against mine, fast, erratic. The magic is weak, I can feel its limits. I won’t be able to heal him fully, but I can keep him steady.

We fly faster.

His wings beat stronger, no longer faltering, no longer threatening to send us plummeting to the earth below. The wind cuts sharper, the world blurring as we soar through the clouds, past the edges of the known mountains.

His grip tightens on me, but this time, it is not from strain.

The flight is shorter than I expect. The moment I feel the change in his body, the slight shift in his direction, I realize he’s going to land.

The ground rushes up to meet us, a rocky stretch of terrain near the base of a deep valley, surrounded by thick twisting trees and jagged cliffs.

Dain’s wings flare wide, catching the wind as he slows, dropping us down onto the earth with a heavy thud.

The moment my feet touch solid ground, my knees buckle.

His don’t.

But he does stumble. Just slightly.

The moment he releases me, he slumps against the nearest rock, one knee hitting the ground, a hand braced to steady himself. His breath is deep, controlled, but still uneven.

Blood still stains his side, but the wound has closed.

My magic did that.

I did that.

He stares at me, golden eyes burning, sharp with something I cannot place.

“What did you do?”

His voice is rough, low.

I swallow, my throat dry. “I—I healed you.”

He doesn’t react at first. Just keeps looking at me, searching, hunting. Then his lips curl slightly, not in amusement, not in relief.

But in frustration.

His head tips back slightly, exhaling as if this is the last thing he wanted to happen.

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