Page 19 of The Fate of Black Hearts

He pointed. “Behind you.”

Swinging the sword while turning put her off balance. She stumbled. A rusty scythe swung in an arc for her head. She put up her arm to block. Then her attacker was gone. He lay on the ground, a dagger in his forehead.

Dom’s flattened lips and low eyebrows screamed criticism of her skill.

“I thought you weren’t helping,” she yelled.

“On your left.” And so it went for countless attackers whom she wished would give up and leave. The mage never moved to help again. All he did was unleash an onslaught of critical comments.

Her breaths came out in pants of steam. No one else rushed her. A slow turn found nothing stirred around her, the only noise her heartbeat, loud and fast in her ears. As the adrenaline wore off, numerous areas she’d been hit—by weapons ranging from knives to swords to an ax—all ached at once.

The field of dead littered the moonlit snow in a sea of red.

Her head felt light, almost giddy. Could be from blood loss. Could be from excitement. She’d won almost entirely by herself. Shecouldsave herself.

A rifle discharged. The impact of a projectile hitting her chest knocked her backward, but she stayed on her feet. The pain and exhaustion mademaintaining herself in feral form impossible.

Can’t breathe. Hurts.

“Bloody hell,” Dom cursed.

My baby.Nothing hurt when she felt around her distended belly, but there was no stirring in her womb.

“Help me.” She gripped her shoulder and side where fiery pain spread. Blood. Too much blood. When had she fallen to her knees? She held her belly until she detected the baby’s movement.

He lifted her in his arms. “You missed a gunman. You also left a human on the ground alive. Next time, do better.”

“Why are you so unpleasant? I’m pregnant,” she whispered through the pain.

“Not an excuse.” His voice rubbed like silk across her skin, irritating her further. “They didn’t care.”

“I thought you weren’t helping me.”

He blew out a long exhale. “Fucking Fates.”

He’d haunted her dreams for years, but not like this. He’d never done anything heroic. When she’d seen him in dreams most of the time, he seemed annoyed at her, with no suggestion he welcomed her presence. Usually, he did mundane tasks such as brew tea or read while she watched. He never turned into a fantasy lover.

“Where are you taking me?” The world blurred around her before he set her down. The place he’d taken her to was rustic, decorated in dull gray and brown colors. Everything held an eeriness as if in a suspended state. No wind. No flicker of the candle. Not cold, but also not warm. “What is this place?”

“It’s the in-between. It’s neither here nor there, but between places.” He helped her sit on a bench. Then he removed her top and corset with an expertise she didn’t want to dwell on. He left her breasts modestly covered, not that she cared as she struggled to breathe. She screwed her eyes shut to ward off the pain when he pressed along the edges of the bullet wound. Her body bowed away from his probing.

“Where’s the newborn?”

“Safe.”

“What are you doing? It burns.” The areas torn from the gun pulled themselves together like…magic. “Are you healing me?”

“Quiet.”

“Haven’t…” She sucked in a breath against a wave of stinging. “Haven’t seen you since Paris.”

“Not true,miri thagarni. You roam into my dreams and sometimes real life. I told you you’d haunt me.”

Her gasp had nothing to do with pain. Had those dreams been real? They’d been odd, often boring, especially when she watched him do tedious exercises. “Impossible.”

“A pregnant lycan just killed twenty-three humans, some of them while carrying a baby and using a small blade. The realm of possibility is larger than you realize.”

“I meant the dreams. That’s unbelievable that I could visit you.”