Page 123 of His Ruthless Match
Flames roared to life.
The body lit like dry paper, curling inward as the fire consumed it. I looked away, bile rising in my throat.
Jareth straightened slowly, his chest heaving, every breath ragged like he’d run through fire. Blood streaked his arms. His arm was cut, his jaw bruised. But none of that mattered to him.
Because when his eyes found me, they were wide, raw, and unguarded.
He dropped to his knees in front of me so fast it startled me. His hands were still stained red and shaking as he cupped my face like he was afraid I might vanish.
“Eva,” he rasped my name like a prayer he wasn’t sure had been answered.
“I’m fine.” My voice broke. “I’m okay.”
But my hands were trembling, and I couldn’t seem to stop.
His thumbs swept across my cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of my skin. “You’re not fine,” he said. “You’re bleeding.”
He tilted my chin gently, eyes scanning my throat. I hadn’t even felt the scratch there until he sucked in a sharp breath.
His jaw locked.
“Did he bite you?”
“No,” I whispered. “He didn’t get the chance.”
His eyes closed for a second, just long enough for me to feel the depth of his relief. Then they snapped open again, sharper, almost wild.
“Where else?” he asked. “Tell me where it hurts.”
I shook my head, but he was already sliding his hands down my shoulders and arms. His fingers brushed the scrape on my wrist, and he hissed under his breath.
“Shit, Eva. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Yes, you were, Jareth. You saved me.”
He looked up at me, and for the briefest moment, the mask cracked. The fear he usually buried behind sarcasm and snark flickered to the surface.
“I saw his mouth on your neck.” His voice was barely audible. “If I’d been two seconds slower?—”
“You weren’t.”
I touched his face, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. The care radiating off him made my eyes burn.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured against my skin.
When he pulled back, I could still see the tension in his shoulders, and his hands hovered like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
I let out a shaky breath. “What about you?”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “I’m not the one who almost got eaten.”
I glanced at the deep claw marks along his ribs, the ugly bruise forming under his collarbone. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse,” he said, but this time there was no bravado behind it. Just weariness. Worry.
His gaze swept the alley one last time, then returned to me.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, voice low and firm. “Before I lose my mind.”
