Page 47 of Demon's Beauty

This one sets me down right in front of Soleil, and I immediately crouch low, covering her body with mine. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, wings drawn forward to shelter her.

Pain erupts over my shoulder, my back, licks of flame that immediately incinerate my clothing and blister my skin. A scream tears from my throat, but I don’t let her go.

I’ve got my witch, and that’s all that matters.

Opening another portal, I take us back to camp.

17

Soleil

Everything unfolds so fast I barely have time to register what’s happening. I barely have time to see the burst of flame from the drakon before it’s obscured by the demon in front of me, before he lets out a sharp, anguished cry as he opens a portal.

Finn and I land hard on the ground back in the middle of camp.

My mind blanks, then scrambles, then catches up in fast-motion, a sob bursting out of me before I can do anything to stop it.

“Finn! Oh, god, Finn. Are you okay?”

What a stupid question.

Of course he’s not okay.

He just got roasted by a freaking dragon.

As soon as we’re on solid ground, his arms fall away from where he’d been holding onto me so tightly.

Making sure I was safe, even while he was suffering.

He’s on his knees in the dirt, wings drooping, shoulders slumped, his breath rasping fast and hard in his chest.

I scramble away from him, stand, and it gives me my first good look at his back.

My stomach lurches with a wave of nausea that makes what I felt when we portalled here seem like nothing.

But I keep my dinner down and my head on straight.

There’s no time for me to lose my shit.

“My bag!” I call out. “Someone grab it from my tent. And you two—” I wave my hand toward the two nearest guards, staring open-mouthed and horrified at the scene. “Help me get him inside.”

The next few minutes are a blur.

Guards rush forward and carry Finn into his tent. They get him situated on his stomach and help me take off his ruined clothing, while someone else runs off to get my healer’s kit.

The workshop tent probably would have been a better place to take him, now that I think about it. But my mind is a tangle, and moving him again would be a terrible idea, so this will have to do.

Rifling through the kit, I find some sedative brew and a strong pain-relieving tonic, and I help him get both doses down before steeling myself to get to work.

Finn’s back looks… awful.

Ruined, blistered flesh stretches over his upper arm and shoulder on one side, though from my initial examination, it seems the wing was spared.

How? I’m not really sure, but it’s a mark in our favor as I lean over him and raise my hands to hover just a couple of inches above his skin.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” I whisper, but either he’s not conscious or not interested in my apologies because he doesn’t stir.

There’s no time to worry about it right now, though.