Page 96 of Savage Hunter

Sawdust replaces my bones. Nothing works except my nerve endings and those are putting in the overtime. Someone hooked up cables to the little fuckers and juiced them with the fire of a thousand suns, I swear.

I turn my focus from the horror story going on inside to my surroundings. About the only thing that works right now are my ears and nose.

Vanilla and brown sugar tingle my senses. It mixes with the clinical smells of disinfectant and something else I can’t pinpoint as my senses come back online.

And everything is dead silent except for the ping of my heart monitor.

My chest burns but I can’t get my arms to work so I can rub at the fire burning a hole through me.

I grunt when I try to move my toes. The sound is like river rocks tumbling over one another.

Blood.

That is what I am smelling.

Copper with a tang of something acidic. I work my throat to find it dry as fuck. When the hell did I swallow a cup of sand?

I try to move my arms again, but fuck. That ain’t happening. When did they turn to lead? I shift the rest of my body and find out fast I hurt like a motherfucker run over by a train going ninety.

I grunt again and this time try to pry an eye open. It’s about the only thing that doesn’t hurt.

The ping of light off my retina stings. I hiss but the sight in the chair beside me is worth the pain. I blink several times to get my eyes to focus and what I see is even better than heaven.

Thank you for putting me back on this earth.

Sun-kissed hair spills over a slight shoulder. God’s angel is curled up in a chair next to me and her sleeping face warms my heart. I take an easy breath; the tightness doesn’t allow for much else. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to. That’s good.

That fire wanting to consume my chest lessens. But the dark circles under her eyes and the way she’s cramped into that chair doesn’t look comfortable.

“Harmonia. Baby.” My throat is rough and I wonder if someone rubbed it raw with sandpaper while I was talking with St. Peter.

Tired blue eyes pop open and her face lights up with the light of the sun. “Wolfe!” Her tiny gasp and Bambi eyes are the sweetest damn thing when she jumps out of the chair and rushes to me. She gains momentum in a short distance and tumbles into my arms.

Pain nearly sends me close to the gates of hell again, but I take it and welcome it if it means I get to feel her in my arms again.

“You’re alive. You’re alive. I can’t believe it.” She touches me everywhere she can reach. Kisses follow and I let her have her feel just to see the happy tears in her eyes.

“There for a while I think I lost the fight. Can I have some water?”

Avery’s hand shakes as she pours out a glass of water and holds a straw to my lips. “Slow, baby. Slow.”

Cool water is close to nectar from the Garden of Eden. Satisfied, I rest my head against the pillow.

“What happened?” I try to sit up, but my brain and the rest of me are not speaking to one another. I wiggle my toes. Yeah, that still works.

Violent pounding against my temples has me wanting sleep. I fight against the need to close my eyes for Harmonia.

“You saved me. My mother was a second away from shooting me and Polaris when you stormed into the plane and took the bullet meant for me.”

She brushes the hair off my forehead, her fingers as close to heaven on me as I’ll ever get again.

“And then what? Please tell me I did some miraculous shit before I killed over. Did I take her down?”

Only the sound of my heart monitor fills my little makeshift hospital room. A brush of red hits Harmonia’s cheeks.

“Harmonia?” Her fingers do that thing again with the hem of her shirt when she’s nervous about something. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me she is dead.”

“Wolfe, I have something to tell you.” Her voice is quiet. Reserved.

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