Night of the Tiger(62)

“Let me see.” Roric shifted her away from the mess on the ground and tugged at the bottom of her sweatshirt. He examined her stomach and heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Aimee could see the thin slash that ran right across her belly from one side to the other. If she hadn’t jumped back in time, her guts would have been spilled onto the ground just like the creature who’d attacked her. It hadn’t hurt at all during the fight but ironically, now that she’d seen the wound, it hurt like the devil. Which was not a good analogy, all things considered.

“Will it need stitches?” She hoped not. She didn’t want to have to go to the local clinic and try to explain how she’d gotten such an injury. If she told them the truth they’d lock her up. And any explanation she could come up with left her sounding careless at best and slightly crazy and dangerous at worst. You see, doctor, the splitting maul slipped and I fell on the blade. That was so lame.

Roric placed his palm over her belly. She jerked when the warmth of his skin touched hers. She hadn’t realized just how cold she was until then. Her blood seeped around his fingers.

“We need to go inside. I’ve got some bandages in the bathroom that we can use.”

Ignoring her, Roric kept his hand on her stomach. His palm got steadily warmer as he began to chant under his breath. She didn’t recognize the language, had no idea what he was saying. It did sound sexy as all get out though.

She forgot all about his sexy voice a second later as heat flashed over her skin, practically burning it. Damn, it hurt. Aimee tried to pull away from him, but with the woodpile at her back and Roric in front of her, there was nowhere for her to go.

She closed her eyes and breathed through the pain, just like she used to when she was in the hospital all those years ago. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. Her skin was hot, too hot, like she was running a fever. She thought she could smell it sizzling. She bit her bottom lip and tasted blood.

In spite of her determination to be stoic, the pain increased with each passing second. She finally broke, crying out in agony. Sweat beaded her forehead. Her legs and arms quivered and she began to sway.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The blazing heat disappeared. And so did the pain. Cool air, like a balm, blew over her flesh.

She opened her eyes and blinked at Roric. There was such a look of concern on his face she wanted to reassure him that she was fine. But talking was still too much for her. It took all her concentration and strength just to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Roric cupped her face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over her abused bottom lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but there was no other way.”

She thought for a moment he might kiss her, but he stepped away. When she remembered that she’d just lost her breakfast moments ago, she was glad he hadn’t. The front of her sweatshirt was in tatters and covered in blood. But the slash on her belly was no longer bleeding. In fact, it looked as though it was sealed. Tentatively, she touched it. Her fingers touched the edges of a raised scar, but that was it.

“You healed me.” There was disbelief in her voice as she poked at the injury.

“Yes. I’m sorry it hurt you, but that’s the price for the healing.”

“Wow!” She stared at Roric, wondering what other powers he had that she knew nothing about. “This is amazing.”

He shrugged. “I can heal minor wounds. If he’d gotten a better swing at you there is nothing I could have done to save you.”

That stark reminder of how close she’d come to dying was enough to jolt her back to reality. “I need to get cleaned up.” She motioned to the demon bodies littering her backyard. “What about them?”

“Hades will claim them.” Even as Roric spoke, the demons began to smolder from the inside out. Aimee watched in amazement as their bodies burst into flames, burning quickly until nothing was left but ash.

“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Hades always retrieves what is his, one way or the other.” As if on cue, the wind whipped up, scattering the ashes. The ground around them was scorched and black. Other than that, not a single trace of the demons remained.

Roric peered around the yard, squinting as he stared into the woods. “From now on we stay together. I go where you go.”

Aimee wasn’t willing to argue the point. She’d come too close to dying. In silence, they headed into the house and upstairs to the bedroom.





Chapter Fourteen

They needed a plan. Aimee pulled on her third top of the morning—a long-sleeved cotton jersey. At this rate, she’d need to do a load of laundry soon or buy new clothes. The top was comfortable against her body, which was sore after the intense battle. Her skin was mottled black and blue in places. Her stomach didn’t hurt as such, but the scar was tender. All in all, it was a small price to pay for coming out of the lethal confrontation alive.