“We were losing him.” She gestured in the direction where the man had disappeared.
“Sod him. I was worried about you!”
“So you forced your will upon me!”
I leant against the wall. “Don’t run away from me.”
“I didn’t realise you weren’t keeping up with me.”
“Because I can’t—” Damn. I’d rather not end the sentence.
“Don’t you ever command me! It’s the most awful sensation I’ve ever experienced.” She marched towards the alley at a brisk pace and vanished from view.
Stubborn woman.
The alley was still crowded, but my urge to follow her and my build achieved the impossible. People moved aside, opening a narrow path for me. When I made my way through the crowd without touching anyone, I sped up, desperate to get to Irene.
I exhaled when I found her right around the corner, waiting for me.
She placed her hands on her hips. “We’ve lost him.”
The fright and the crowd made me shiver. Memories resurfaced, keeping my mind busy when I should be focused on the target. I inhaled to catch a trace of his scent, but fighting to stay calm and not throw up interfered with my senses.
Irene walked a few steps ahead of me, rubbing her chest. Our bond was strained because she was upset with me.
I shut my eyes to collect myself. The sounds came muffled, and even the smells were faint. There was a soft moan, followed by a thud.
I flared my eyes open.
“Why are you following me?” the man shouted.
Something flashed in his hand, and I forced myself out of my stupor to shove him hard. He hit the wall with his back and groaned. The contact with his chest froze me. A sickening lump crawled up my throat.
I yelled to release the tension, but I was choking on air.
A sweet, flowery scent of blood hit my nose, forcing me back to reality.
“Irene!”
She was slumped on the cobbles, a hand on her stomach. Blood trickled through her fingers. The thug had stabbed her because I’d been slow, because my demons had been unleashed.
She paled and whispered something I didn’t understand. Her head slumped to the side, and her breathing became thin.
“Irene!”
The carriage was a few minutes’ walk from there. I had to carry her. There was no time to waste. The man was gone, and I didn’t care.
Sheer panic seized me. I hadn’t experienced anything so frightening since Riley had attacked me. Shivering and swallowing the bitter bile in my mouth, I forced myself to gather her in my arms. My stomach roiled, and nausea overwhelmed me. I gritted my teeth, pushing myself to endure the pain. If I didn’t take Irene to the mansion soon, she would die.
I staggered along the alley, my legs weighing like bricks. Her cheek pressed against my chest, and I almost threw up as my skin burnt.
Breathing deeply, I soldiered on. Cold sweat soaked my shirt. My sight blurred. I focused on the good things—Irene’s sweet scent, her soft body, and her pulse.
Painful step after painful step, the carriage swept into view. A swell blocked my throat, and my arms were shivering so hard I feared I might drop Irene.
When I laid her on the seat in the carriage, I fell to the ground, shaking so hard I bit my tongue.
“Your Grace.” The footman stood at my side. “Are you hurt?”
