Page 37 of Halfblood Deceived

“I-I had nowhere else to go,” Aella admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

She felt her body tilt sideways and saw the dark ground approach, but firm hands were holding her shoulders before she could crash.

“Aella, what happened?” Zeydan asked, brow furrowed.

A whimper escaped her. Where to start?

Zeydan sniffed and then cursed, his eyes falling to her wounded stomach. She knew he could see perfectly in the dark and wondered how bad she was.

“Who did this to you?” he asked.

Aella looked at him, taking in his unearthly perfect features contorted with concern for her—one of his greatest enemies—and felt what little remained of her beliefs about vampires crack and collapse in on themselves. A strangled sound left her throat; frustration, anger, and pain stealing her breath.

Zeydan lifted her off the ground, cradling her gently in his arms.

“Tell me what happened, Aella,” he demanded.

The remnants of her strength were leaking away. His face became blurry.

Aella swallowed hard and forced her heavy tongue to work. “They’re coming,” she croaked. “They’re coming for you, Zeydan.”

The flash of horrified realization that crossed his beautiful face was the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her.

CHAPTER 10

Zeydan looked at the nearly unrecognizable, half-destroyed face of the female in his arms. Someone had beaten Aella so badly that they’d broken her cheekbone, her brow bone, and perhaps her jaw as well.

Her last words echoed in his head: “They’re coming for you, Zeydan.” That could only mean one thing.

Zeydan clutched Aella harder against his body, every muscle tense as he examined his surroundings, expecting to see an army of gargoyles approaching.

A dark form all but materialized a few feet away

A low rumble left Zeydan’s throat.

Andreas lifted his hands. “It’s just me—” He cursed, eyes wide as he looked at Aella, nostrils flaring as he scented the blood. “What the Hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Zeydan admitted.

“Miss?” called a male voice.

Zeydan and Andreas turned toward the sound, finding a young human male with light brown skin and short black hair. He did the sign of the cross as he shuddered and trudged through the mist. The magical fog turned the mansion and the grounds invisible to humans and gargoyles alike.

“Miss, let me take you to a hospital before you die,” the human insisted, with nothing but genuine concern in his voice. “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo…”1

Zeydan gave Andreas a nod. His friend gave a contemptuous look at Aella, but dipped his chin and headed for the human.

Zeydan secured his grip on Aella and jumped the 15-foot tall iron gates, the same way he’d done when he’d heard Aella’s voice through the speakers on the main floor.

He zoomed back to the mansion at full speed, opening the double doors with his mind, not bothering to close them, and dashing toward the infirmary.

“Mari!” he called, slamming open the doors to the room he had occupied a few nights before.

Aella didn’t react when he placed her on the narrow bed. Her breathing was labored and her pulse was too slow. Zeydan turned on the lights with half a thought and examined her, cursing in three of the four languages he knew. His stomach seemed to fall from its place and land at his feet.

“What have they done to you?” he heard himself ask in a whisper.

Blood gushed out of the right side of her mouth, nose, and the corner of her left eye. The inflammation was so horrifying that he didn’t understand how she had retained her consciousness for so long. Her neck had massive bruises with the clear imprint of male-sized hands. The wound on the left side of her stomach gushed blood with every heartbeat. The scent was bizarrely clean and heady for a gargoyle, the predator corner of Zeydan’s brain registered.

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