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Then he signaled to his horse and they took off in a flash, leaving snow flying in their wake.
Jade stared after them, the breath leaving her body on a hard rush of air.
Not all humans are good. Not all demons are evil.
Her mother’s motto. She had no time to consider the unexpected reiteration as a chill forced her thoughts back to the situation at hand—and the perilous predicament she’d inadvertently found herself in. She rushed inside the cottage, securing the door behind her.
Captivity didn’t suit her well, but she had so much to mull over that two days passed as though in a few hours. Jade didn’t sleep a lot, her mind too preoccupied with the bizarre events of late. On occasion, she found it tempting to nap, just to see if Darien would keep his word about staying out of her dreams. Unfortunately, she found it depressing that he made good on his promise.
Her life had never been particularly full and satisfying since her parents’ deaths, but somehow, being in Darien’s presence—whether in real life or by way of a fantasy—she’d felt the hollow cracks and crevices seal. Being alone in her cottage, however, tore them wide open again.
Loneliness was not a foreign feeling for Jade. She’d lived in the small house by herself since she was eleven. There was no child protective legal system or orphanage in the post-war days, so no one had whisked her away to a different shelter against her will.
Yes, the adults of the village had urged her to stay with them and their families. But she’d had no desire to leave her home and all the memories she’d collected in her childhood. She felt closer to her parents here and she cherished the quaint cottage.
Above all else, she found a degree of strength in knowing she’d practically raised herself and possessed the spirit and determination to be accountable for her own actions and needs. Well, most of them, anyway. One elusive longing could not be sated by anyone other than the Demon King.
She sighed as she tossed another log on the fire, which had dimmed as she’d pondered her life. Admittedly, she enjoyed her friendships and she loved reading about civilization before the wars. But she’d always felt something was missing. Several somethings, actually. Her place in the new world. A significant connection to someone.
As much as she adored Michael, she couldn’t deny he was not the man for her. Not after the fantasy she’d shared with Darien.
Yet the demon wasn’t a viable option for a companion either, and he proved he felt the same way by steering clear of her. It was the slayers who checked on her and gave status reports. Not the king. Not even his general.
Darien’s glowing eyes and supreme physique—not to mention his scorching-hot kisses and deep, soul-stirring thrusts into her body—would not leave her mind, though. A truly disconcerting scenario to find herself in.
She poked at the fire with little enthusiasm. The log was much too big. She’d all but snuffed out the flame. As thick streams of smoke ribboned in the hearth, the snapping of branches out back sent fear down her spine.
Her gaze flashed to the tall windows that overlooked the river. But only for a moment. The log in her fireplace suddenly burst into a raging blaze that caused the abundant flames to lick the outer edges of the stone hearth.
Jade let out a small cry of shock before she lunged for the pot of water she kept in the corner for fire emergencies. Gripping the ceramic container, she dumped the liquid on the inferno, instantly extinguishing it.
Her heart thundered in her chest. Losing her cottage was her biggest fear of all, for with it, the tangible reminder of her life with her parents would incinerate as well.
She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a movement out of the corner of her eye snagged her attention. She turned toward the windows at the back of the house and, suddenly, a horrific apparition appeared before her eyes—a wraith draped in a cloak as dark as the night, but with the edges of it lit with flames, burning all around him.
A fire wraith? She’d only heard about them from her father—no one else had conceded they existed, not even the slayers.
His sockets blazed where there should have been eyes. When he opened his mouth and fire spewed forth, she let out a loud scream. Panic and terror seized her very soul, but she managed to propel herself into action.
“Not my house!” she cried out. Then she bolted for the front door.
She wore gray drawstring pants, a knit sweater and her slippers. The biting air nearly froze her to the core of her being, but she was desperate to pull
the wraith from the close proximity of her home so he didn’t burn it to the ground. She raced along the edge of the river, hearing the pounding of horse hooves behind her. Jade knew they didn’t belong to the Demon King or his general.
“Darien!” she screamed his name—in hopes he was close by—just as the horse and its ghostly rider descended upon her.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. The animal reared. Jade screamed again. Then one of his legs connected with her back, slamming her face-first to the snow-covered earth and knocking the wind from her. Pain lanced through her body, making it impossible to haul herself up. Sprawled on the ground, she tried to concentrate on breathing and rising above the sheer agony so she could attempt to crawl away.
Fire erupted beside her, igniting the trees. Then the stallion drew up on his hind legs again. Jade had no time—nor the strength—to react. The beast came down hard, one of his hooves making contact with her left wrist and hand, crushing the bones.
The sound of her suffering echoed all around her as she wailed. The sharp throbbing radiated throughout every inch of her, stealing her breath and plunging her mind into a dark abyss so that she couldn’t think or force herself to move.
She lay in the thick bank, with more flakes falling on her as she gasped for even the tiniest bit of air. Her eyelids squeezed shut and she willed herself to begin the healing process, but the sensations gripping her were excruciating.
Above the pulse ringing in her ears, she heard the thundering approach of another rider, followed by the unsheathing of swords and the clanging of metal. She didn’t have the wherewithal to open her eyes and see who had come to her rescue. Instead, she put her faith in whoever it was and tried to focus on repairing her spine so she could pull in a full breath without it feeling as though everything inside of her had shattered.
The fight ensued for some time, and then she heard a sword bang against a boulder and an animal’s shrill whinny, though it wasn’t the same sound she’d heard in the past. Not the same horse. It wasn’t Darien’s Arabian that was injured.
