Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 125037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Just as he knew it would, her soft laughter poured into his mind again. He loved the way she viewed life. She could have been bitter and resentful, but instead, she looked for good. She found humor in things others wouldn’t. She made him see the humor in situations he would never have found amusing.
Sweet? Innocent? I just hunted and dispatched five strangers. In anyone else’s book, I wouldn’t be referred to as sweet and innocent.
Let’s remember they were assholes.
The cabin came into sight, and relief flooded him instantly. He had the door to his house open and took her straight through to the bedroom to put her on the bed in record time. Shrugging out of the various packs and weapons he carried, he hurried through the cabin, gathering everything they would need once he crashed. And he was going to crash big-time.
“Okay, babe, I’m going to set us up for the transfusion. Don’t expend any energy until I’ve had a chance to assess the situation with you and then repair any damage. Once I do that, I’ll transfuse you, but again, remember, I’m going to go down hard.”
Her long lashes fluttered and then lifted. He found himself looking into her vivid green eyes. There was censure there. Apprehension. There was also a nameless emotion he wasn’t used to seeing when anyone looked at him.
“I don’t like you doing this, Diego.” Her voice was a low murmur.
He peeled off his jacket and began to insert needles into the arm that would be closest to him. “Babe, really? You’re bleeding internally.”
“But you take on those same injuries when you’re healing me, don’t you?” Her gaze remained steady on him. “You’re risking too much.”
“I’d risk anything to save your life, Leila.” He was absolute. Firm. Decisive. “You just relax and let me see what we’re facing.”
He had the needles in his arm and hers. He removed his boots and sat on the bed, facing her. “I’ve put everything you need, including weapons, on your side of the bed, just like last time. You have lights and anything else you might need while I’m out.”
Diego placed his palms just above her abdomen and reached for the well of healing energy inside him. The moment his hands were in place, he felt the shifting, the heating inside him. The heat imaging mapped out the bleeding and the areas where the jarring of her body had damaged those sites all over again.
There was no use wasting time on cursing. Leila had done what she had to do to stay alive. He had to do whatever was necessary to keep her alive. For him, there was no alternative.
“It’s going to get hot, to the point of being uncomfortable, sweetheart,” he warned. He despised hurting her when he knew she was already in pain. “If you pass out, it’s all to the good. Just saying I’m sorry before it gets too bad.”
Again, her eyelashes fluttered and rose, and he was looking at all that vivid green. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. And if anything goes wrong for either of us, just know I wouldn’t trade my time with you for anything.”
Clever little demon one-upped him. He wasn’t good at the hearts-and-flowers thing. She needed him to kill a man for her, he was all over that. He could show his love for her that way, but finding the right poetic words wasn’t going to happen.
He didn’t reply, turning his focus inward, mapping out every torn and bleeding wound. He had one fleeting thought that his brother could have done a much better job, but he pushed the moment of doubt away and began to work. He was all she had, and that meant he had to be enough.
For the next two hours, he was lost in a world of blood and damaged organs, operating with skills he didn’t believe he had until he had no choice. He was meticulous about every touch of heat he applied, welding over the rips and tears until her veins and arteries were smooth and holding. Until every organ was once again functioning properly. Only then did he come back to himself, swaying, his body in agony. His insides felt as if he’d taken a blowtorch to them.
Careful not to move around too much—he feared he was now bleeding internally—he stretched out beside Leila, took a long drink of water and began the transfusion between the two of them. He closed his eyes and breathed through the pain.
How had Rubin done this over and over? Diego had watched his brother do surgery on some of the worst wounds possible, and yet he’d survived. A few times it had been close, but never once had Rubin complained. Jonquille, his wife, had once saved Rubin’s life by taking on the terrible wounds he’d suffered. He’d seen this scenario play out multiple times over the years, but he hadn’t felt what Rubin had. He’d set himself up as Rubin’s protector, not his aide, when it came to healing.