Page 78 of Touched By Darkness

“Ireland?!” Alaric all but growls. “You’re in fucking Ireland?”

“Yes, it’s a long story. I need help. He’s bleeding heavily, and it’s soaking through the towel.”

“Is that Daemon?” Ronan calls out in the background. “Tell him to get his ass—”

“He’s been stabbed.” Alaric is on the move. I can hear his heavy footsteps pounding on the floor and the distinct click of Dariana’s high heels as she asks, “What happened? Is Daemon okay?”

“He’s been stabbed. Get your stuff. We’re going to Ireland.”

“Ireland?”

A sob escapes me, and I toss the phone down onto the bed, using both hands to apply pressure on the wound and putting all of my weight behind it.

“Who was that man?” Daemon grunts.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face.”

“Shit, little angel, I’ve known you for two minutes, and you have already managed to get me stabbed.”

“Can we please not joke right now?”

“It’s quite comical if you think about it. Wait, is this part of your elaborate plan to have me killed? He should have gone for my throat.”

More sobs and pathetic tears. I keep applying pressure, but it doesn’t take long before the towel is soaked through. “You need more blood.” My eyes dart around the room and land on the door. After leaving Daemon on the bed and getting dressed, I exit the room and come to a stumbling halt in the dark hallway. What if my stalker is out here? Lurking in the shadows?

“Think, Aurelia, think,” I whisper to myself before darting across the hallway to bang on the door opposite.

No one opens.

I try the next door, my hand smashing against the wood.

Either the occupants are smart enough not to open the door when a crazed woman, covered head to toe in blood, bangs on it, or they’re out.

I try the next door in line. The TV is on, and I can make out the advertisements before the door opens to reveal a woman in her late thirties. Her eyes widen when she takes in the state of me.

“Please, my boyfriend has been stabbed.”

“You need to phone the police.” She goes to retrieve her phone, but I seize her arm and haul her into my room.

The old me who recoiled when faced with death is nowhere to be seen. I push her inside, lock the door, and let my wings sprout behind me.

She takes in Daemon on the bed. He’s on his side, his face twisted in pain. She looks back at me, at my wings and the red mist in my eyes.

“Baby,” I say to Daemon while the woman takes a single, careful step back, “you need to feed.”

The response I get is labored breathing and a pained hiss through his teeth. He’s lost too much blood, and it makes me worried in case the knife hit vital organs. He’ll be able to heal if he drinks the human’s blood, but I can’t make him drink it. He has to do it himself.

The woman tries to dart past me, terror oozing from her, but I’m faster. I block her way and tilt my head sideways, stimulated by the hunt.

“You really shouldn’t entice a predator like that,” I tut.

These humans never learn. If you run, you seal your fate. That makes me a hypocrite since I ran from Daemon.

I see the moment she decides to scream. In a blur of motion, I close the distance between us and throw her up against the wall. I slam a hand over her mouth as I bare my incisors. “Make another sound, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

I’m losing control over my darkness. I can feel it slipping from my grip the more frightened she becomes. The redness intensifies until my vision begins to ebb away, and the snarl in my throat becomes more animal than angel. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose myself completely.

“Baby,” I say to Daemon again, not taking my eyes off the woman, “I caught the rabbit for you.”

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