Caine leaned in close, whispering into her ear, “Give up, little girl. You’re outmatched.”
Asshole. Rage burned through her, and she tried to kick him in the groin, but he pinned her arms to her sides with impossible strength. She strained against him, kicking at his shins, desperate to crack his bones. But instead of doing any damage, she struggled helplessly as he lifted her body in the air, as easily as if she were weightless. Her breath caught in her throat as he hurled her across the room.
She slammed against the dance floor, toppling out of her ridiculous shoes. The fall knocked the wind out of her. She gasped for air, fighting to catch her breath as Caine closed in. As soon as he closed the distance between them, she swung her legs in a wide arc, taking him down.
With a shrill battle cry, she leapt on top of him, raising the stake. His hands flew out, clamping onto her wrists, and he flipped her over, pinning her arms over her head. He pressed himself on top of her, and a low growl escaped his throat.
His eyes trailed down her chest. Something else was overcoming him—not battle fury, but another type of need. His distraction was a vulnerability. He lowered his warm mouth to her neck.
She arched her back, marshaling her strength to fling him off her. He slammed against the ground, and then she hooked her leg around him, straddling him.
His hands still gripped her wrists, but a sense of victory bubbled through her. I am in control. She leaned closer, momentarily distracted by his earthy scent, then bit into his neck as hard as she could. Her prey instinctively released his grip on her wrists. She lifted her arms high, and plunged the stake into his heart.
Chapter 20
The rush of fury flowed from Rosalind’s body, like the wind over the ocean. She stared down at her blood-soaked hands gripping the hawthorn stake. Caine’s shocked eyes had returned to gray, and he glanced down at his chest.
Panic clenched her heart, and she ripped the stake from his chest. Her mind spun with horror, and she pressed down on his heart, as if she could staunch the flow. What have I done? Blood seeped through her fingers. Caine took a shuddering breath.
Lilu fluttered overhead, squawking, before flying for an open window.
If Caine were fully human, he’d be dead by now. But even so—she’d staked him with iron and hawthorn. Seven hells, what have I done? Both could be lethal to a night demon. Pressing on his chest, her hands shook uncontrollably. “Caine. I’m so sorry.”
Heels clacked over the floor, and she looked up to find Mist, standing over her arms folded. The valkyrie appraised Rosalind with a clinical stare. “I see you’re the stronger fighter. I guess that answers my question. Now get out of here before I slaughter you, too. Take his body with you.”
Rosalind heaved a sob, and tried to lift Caine from the ground, her body shaking. At the sound of his pained gasps, tears stung her eyes. As she wrapped his arm around her neck, Aurora burst through the door, Lilu trailing behind her. Thank the gods, the raven went for help. It only took an instant for Aurora to hurtle through the crowd and snatch up the incubus. Carrying Caine, Aurora rushed for the door in a blur, and slammed it open to the night air. Rosalind ran after, her breath ragged.
By the time Rosalind got outside, Aurora had laid Caine out below a maple. The vamp frantically cleared the dust off Caine’s skin while Tammi looked on.
Caine rested against the trunk, blood pouring through his fingers, and grief pierced Rosalind.
Tammi’s hand flew to her mouth as she took in her friend. “Rosalind, are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”
“It’s not her blood.” Aurora flashed her fangs. “It’s Caine’s. What the bloody hell happened in there? Why is he covered in your dust, and why isn’t he healing?”
Rosalind’s hands shook, and she couldn’t seem to make her voice obey.
She glanced at Caine, whose eyes were fixed on hers. He was still conscious, at least, though his skin had paled.
He took a deep breath. “We had a fight. She won.”
Aurora snarled, “You did this, human?”
“The valkyrie,” Caine said. “She imbued us with battle rage. It wasn’t Rosalind’s fault.”
“A hawthorn stake,” Rosalind managed.
Aurora’s eyes widened. “This human girl won? You must’ve been holding back.”
“I got distracted,” he said, his voice choked. “She looks pretty when she’s twisted by bloodlust.”
Aurora turned her furious gaze on Rosalind. “Fix it, then. He needs a human female.”
“What do you mean?” Rosalind knelt by Caine’s side, holding her hand over his heart, as if her fingers could heal a shredded artery. Her hands shook wildly. She’d done this to him. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to stop—”
“He’s an incubus,” Aurora cut in. “He heals through sexual contact.”
Rosalind’s mind raced. “You want me to have sex with him?”