“You’ll heal,” she told Zacharel. “You’ll survive this.”
Her gaze panned the surrounding forest. If she built a sled, she could drag him…where? She had no idea where they were. Doesn’t matter. She would drag him until she found someone who could call for help.
“What did you do to him?”
The harsh voice slashed through the air behind her, slamming into her with so much hate and rage she fell to her hands. Blood splashed. Quickly she straightened, spun. The dizziness…almost too much, the spiderwebs returning and interweaving with pinpricks of light.
A beast of a man loomed a few feet away.
Trembling, she reached through the slits in her new leather pants and palmed two of the blades the cloud had given her. Good. She hadn’t lost them in the fall. As she shoved her way to her feet, struggling to stay upright, she pointed both weapons at the scary-looking newcomer. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll make you regret it.”
Ragged abrasions covered his cheeks, the edges singed, but the rest of his skin reminded her of honey sprinkled with sugar—a shocking contradiction. His eyes were black and filled with the same hate and rage she’d heard in his tone, his dark hair long and beaded, and though he wore a white robe, he wasn’t an angel. He couldn’t be an angel. No wings arched over his massive shoulders.
He glared down at her, then at Zacharel. When those bottomless eyes next landed on her, they were narrowed and crackling with orange-gold flames. Somehow, those flames were far worse than the emotions.
She blinked, and then he was standing in front of her—without ever having walked a step. Long, thick fingers wrapped around her wrists, squeezing. Still she hung on to her weapons.
“Let me go!” she demanded, trying to knee him between the legs.
He twisted, avoiding contact. “Release the blades.”
And leave herself, and Zacharel, helpless? “Never!”
His clasp tightened. Even when her bones fractured and agonizing pain slicked up her arms, she maintained her hold on the hilts.
Endured worse. Gritting her teeth, she fought through the dizziness and the now-thickening spiderwebs intermingling with the ever-brightening lights, and found the strength to go for round two of Shoot His Testicles Into His Throat. He must have assumed the pain had overwhelmed her and she would submit, causing him to lower his guard, because she succeeded in connecting her knee to his groin this time.
He did not double over, but he did fling her away from him, her already abused body propelling into a tree trunk and slinking uselessly to the ground.
“Stay there.” He kept her within his sights as he crouched beside Zacharel.
“No! I won’t let you hurt him,” she shouted, and lumbered to her feet. And… Thank You, God! She still held the daggers. Her hands were swollen and aching unbearably, but that was a small price to pay for Zacharel’s protection.
Surprise lit those treacherous eyes. Because of her words, or her persistence? Whatever the reason, surprise drifted through her as he smoothly lifted Zacharel into his arms. Such gentleness from someone who looked more monster than man should have been impossible.
Still, she pointed one of the blades at him. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but like I said, I won’t let you hurt him.”
“I am Koldo, and I would never hurt him.”
Her knees almost buckled with relief. Koldo. She recognized the name. He might not be an angel, but he was Zacharel’s friend. Her warrior had told her not to fight him just before commanding his cloud to vanish. “Where are you taking him? What are you going to do with him?”
“Away. Save.”
That harsh voice must have jostled Zacharel’s mind into activity, because his eyelids fluttered open. He struggled for freedom, saying, “The girl.” He coughed, blood gurgling from his mouth.