I can't stop staring, though. Is it weird that I kinda dig this version better? He seems more... authentic. Like the stick up his ass finally dissolved… a bit.
His crimson eyes lock with mine for what feels like forever, and I swear the temperature rises ten degrees.
“Half-demon, actually,” he rumbles, voice like gravel in a garbage disposal. He clears his throat, and the red fades from his eyes like someone turning down a dimmer switch. His emerald greens return while his claws and fangs retract with a soft *snick*. Freaky but fascinating.
“Half-demon,” I echo. “Still... Dude.”
“I know,” he sighs, suddenly looking exhausted.
I reach for his hand to pull myself up, but white-hot pain explodes through my side and I flop back down like a landed fish. “That blue fire... did a number on my ribs,” I hiss, clutching just below my right boob where it feels like someone's stabbing me. “Son of a?—”
“Don't move. You might've broken something,” Chad interrupts, all business again.
Chad kneels beside me, his face all concerned doctor-mode.
“You're a frickin' DEMON, Chad. Would you mind elaborating on that part, please?!”
“What's there to elaborate? Surely, you've dealt with demons before,” he says, like I'm the weird one for being shocked. A red flicker dances across his eyes again, and my heart does this stupid little skip.
“Wait, what are you doing with that... with the glowy eye thing?” My voice comes out higher than I want it to. But come on—five minutes ago he was Mr. Perfect Academy Boy, and now he's something straight out of Darkbirch's “Creatures to Kill on Sight” handbook.
“Two cracked ribs. The bottom two, to be specific,” he announces.
“Did you... did you just X-ray me?”
Chad shrugs like it's nothing. “Minor perk.”
“My insides are still private!” I slap his shoulder, then immediately regret every life choice as I fall back onto the salt. Pain spears through my side.
“Just hold still,” he mutters, digging through my bag without permission. “Do you have any healing potions ready?”
“Nothing for broken bones, but I have the ingredients. Get me somewhere safe, first.” I glance around the salt flat. “There could be more of them coming.”
Chad looks back at the dead clearbloods, frowning deeply, then gives me this approving nod that I don't need. “Smart girl,” he mutters. “Let's do that.”
“Wait, what are you—” And suddenly I'm being lifted, cradled against his chest like some damsel. Great. Just great. Can't fight him. Can't jump down. Can barely breathe without wanting to scream. “Ow. Ow... OW!”
“It's going to keep hurting until I set you down, Brynn, I'm sorry.”
Yeah, he should be sorry. For the ribs, the demon thing, and especially for the way his arms feel way too secure around me right now.
28
BRYNN
Ilean back against the Joshua tree, wincing as my ribs shift. “You know, this whole thing could've been avoided.”
My special blend of spices and salt—thank the gods for Bonneville's premium stuff—is doing its thing, knitting my bones back together. Still hurts like a mother, but at least we're not dead in the middle of the salt flats.
Chad's all twitchy, scanning the horizon like he expects an army to materialize any second. “Your injury?” he asks, not even looking at me.
“Duh. You could've just gone full demon on them from the get-go instead of—” I freeze mid-sentence as it clicks. “Wait. That's what you meant earlier about smelling them, isn't it?”
He taps his nose with this smug little half-smile. “Perk of the job.”
“I have like a million questions right now!”
“Well, I've got zero answers,” he shoots back. “Nobody at Darkbirch knows about this, Brynn. Nobody. And I need it to stay that way.”
