Kissed by a Dark Prince(45)

Olivia looked away from the building, over her shoulder towards the park.

There was a man there.

Loren.

Olivia stood and corrected herself as her vision cleared. He looked like Loren, wore armour like Loren, but it wasn’t him.

He stared at the blazing building with a wild look in his purple eyes.

Four male hunters approached him and she gasped as two short blades appeared in his hands and he cut them down before they had a chance to draw their weapons or defend themselves. His gaze slid to her and he smiled, sending a chill tumbling through her, and disappeared in a burst of light.

“Olivia!” Loren’s voice rang out over the noise of the building, the wail of sirens as the fire engines arrived, and the cries of the injured, and she hated the way it wrapped around her and warmed her, making her feel safe.

She wasn’t safe.

A homicidal maniac had blown up a building just to hurt her.

Loren rushed towards her, dressed like a goth and looking like hell, his eyes gradually changing to blue but retaining a corona of purple around the outside of his irises, as if he wasn’t in full control of himself.

She turned away from him, limped to the nearest person in need of medical assistance, and used what the female doctor had left with her to start patching them up. She diligently sewed the gash on the female hunter’s arm, ignoring Loren as he ground to a halt right next to her, Bleu hot on his heels.

Sable was right. She was going to do everything that she could for the injured and wasn’t going to flake out now that they needed her. This was her fault after all.

No. This was Loren’s fault.

Fury turned her blood to wildfire and she tried to be gentle with her patient, not wanting to take out her anger on her. She was going to store it up and unleash holy hell on Loren once she had made sure everyone who had a shot at survival did just that.

“Olivia?” Loren said and she continued to pretend he didn’t exist, rage simmering in her veins.

She cut the thread, covered the stitches with some steri-strips and then gave the huntress some painkillers.

Olivia struggled to her feet, her right leg protesting as she put her weight on it. Loren caught her arm to help her and she smacked his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” She shoved him in the chest for good measure and hobbled off, heading to her next patient.

Loren grabbed her arm again, his grip firmer this time, and pulled her to a stop.

“Olivia,” he whispered and she couldn’t hold back her anger anymore. She turned on him.

“Someone was here who looked a whole damned lot like you. He went through those hunters like...” She pointed towards the bodies that someone was taking care of near the park and closed her eyes, not wanting to remember just how easily the man had cut them down. “They hadn’t stood a chance, Loren. They hadn’t stood a chance. None of us had.”

She pushed away from him again, shirking his grip, and eased down to kneel beside a young male doctor with a head injury. The gash was deep, cutting across his forehead and into his hairline, and bleeding profusely. She swabbed the blood away to reveal the extent of the wound.

“This is going to hurt, but I have to stitch it,” she said softly, and he nodded and swallowed hard.

Olivia took another needle, threaded it, and carefully began stitching the wound closed, occasionally pausing to give the young man a moment to gather himself. Loren hovered over her, Bleu his perpetual shadow.

Glass exploded from the building, showering the square. Olivia tensed and curled into a ball as quickly as she could. People screamed and she screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to think about everything that was happening. Because of Loren.

Because of that maniac she had seen.

She uncurled and realised that Loren had wrapped himself around her, using his body to shield her from the glass. Olivia hated that the self-sacrificing action warmed her even a fraction of a degree. She was supposed to be mad at him.

Olivia jerked back, dislodging him, and continued her work. The fingers of her left hand ached even though she did her best not to move them and her leg was killing her, but she kept going, stitching the wound on the man’s head. He needed her help. She couldn’t flake out now. She couldn’t, no matter how tired and weak she felt.

“You need to rest,” Loren said in that commanding snarl of his and Olivia ignored him.

She finished stitching the wound, cut the thread and then bandaged the man’s head. She checked him over for other injuries and Loren growled. Olivia knew why. She was touching the young doctor, feeling her way over his body. Her patience snapped again.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” she barked at Loren and his irises flashed purple.

Bleu’s eyes widened and he gave her a look that asked if she had lost her mind.