Blood already flowed across the white tundra. Daire stood in the middle of the four remaining predators, kicking and striking, forming fire balls and throwing. The beasts used sharp claws and deadly teeth, alternating between striking and avoiding the burning plasma.
Cee Cee ran right into the biggest animal, hitting it in the back and sending it flying toward the sea. She whipped the vehicle around and reached out a hand for Daire. Blood covered him forehead to ankles, and most of his clothing was shredded. “Get on,” she yelled.
He shook blood from his eyes and threw a succession of deep green fireballs at the bears, swinging his arm and creating a graceful arc of flame. With his free hand, he grabbed hers and jumped behind her, still forming and throwing deadly fire through the swirling storm. The horrifying smells of burned fur and blood swirled with the barrage of snow. “Go,” he bellowed.
She leaned down and opened the throttle again, kicking out with one leg to nail a bear in the neck. It fell back, teeth mashing together.
Daire wrapped his body over her, his thighs outside her hips, bracketing her. With an unholy howl, the lead bear came at them from the left, while another male came from the right. “Strike to the right,” Daire ordered.
Her lungs compressed. She held on to the handlebars and cocked her leg to kick. Daire threw fire from both hands, nailing each bear before turning to deal with the lead Alpha bear.
The other male yelped as fire impacted his chest but didn’t halt his trajectory. He hit the front side of the snowmobile, thick paw sweeping out. His claws raked into her forehead and ripped down, opening up the side of her face to the bone. Raw agony set her on fire. She screamed and jerked her head away, trying to protect her eye.
The lead bear roared in fury and pain, but she didn’t turn to see. Daire leaned over her, a ball of fire in his palm, and smashed the flames into the other male bear’s face. It shrieked and fell back.
Daire grabbed her hands over the bars and pushed farther, driving fast into the storm and dodging around the orange building. Dizziness rippled through her, and she tried to focus, but too much pain pierced her nerves. The freezing cold clashed against the raw bones in her face, and nausea lurched across her stomach.
He steered the vehicle through a deserted town dotted with abandoned buildings, including a schoolhouse and small store. Daire continued on, fighting the storm, and finally reached a crumbling brick building with a haphazardly hanging sign that read: ISLAND SKOLE. Island School. He drove around back and cut the engine, grabbing her up in one smooth motion and running through a partially open back door.
The smell of must and snow filled her nose. He moved gracefully, but every slight jostle sent excruciating pain through her head. Her arm had gone numb, which was not a good sign.
He carried her through the small building containing overturned desks and tables into what appeared to have been a kitchen, where he gently sent her down on an red metal table. Old pots littered the ice-covered floor, while a wide frozen oven took up one whole wall opposite a crumbling brick fireplace. “How bad?” he asked, walking around and stopping short upon seeing her face. “Holy fucking shit.”
She wobbled, her vision graying.
With a gentleness surprising in such a large man, he unzipped the coat and removed it. Even so, when he reached her injured arm, she bit back a scream.
“God.” He peered down. “Your artery is clawed, baby. Can you heal it? You’re bleeding like a geyser.”
Her teeth chattered, and she tried to concentrate and send healing cells to the wound, but she’d lost too much blood. She was too damn cold. “No.”
“Okay. Hold on. I’ve got you.” He jerked around and grabbed an overturned wooden chair, one of four. Quickly kicking them into small pieces, he shoved them into the brick fireplace. Fire danced down his arms, and he shot it toward the wood, which sputtered and died out. He looked around frantically and then yanked off his shirt, tore it into shreds, and placed the pieces under the wood.
“No, Daire,” she said weakly. He’d need his shirt.
“Shh.” He formed plasma balls again and set the material on fire. Claw marks marred his incredible back and arms, even his head. Through the temporary carnage, she spotted an intricate tattoo that began at his left shoulder blade and wound up his back and down his arm. A myriad of complex Celtic lines with a barely discernible C9E combined in the middle. His designation as an enforcer for the Coven Nine, the ruling body of witches. A sexy warning on his warrior’s body.
As she watched, the wounds began to close. Incredible. Witches could heal faster than any other species, probably because of the whole fire thing and their ability to alter matter through the use of quantum physics. She giggled.
He turned. “You’re going into shock.”
God, she hoped so. The pain was too much, and if she threw up, her head might really fall off.
The wood caught fire, and warmth began to permeate the small room. “Won’t the animals see the smoke?” she asked drowsily, swaying on the table.
“They’re animals, sweetheart. Not shifters.” He moved toward her and peered down at her arm. “Your head is bad, but nowhere as bad as your arm. You’re still bleeding too much.” Regret colored his tone, but she was so close to falling into the darkness, she didn’t wonder why. He smoothed the hair from her face. “You’re too weak to heal yourself, so I’ll have to. This might scar you. I’m sorry.”
She blinked.
He held her good arm, and a very pretty green fire danced on his free hand. Then he pressed it to her injuries along her bicep.
Agony! She screamed, her entire nervous system misfiring. All instinct, she kicked out, shoving against him and trying to get away from the flame. He held tight, giving no quarter. The scent of burned flesh banished the clean scent of wood on fire. Tears poured down her face, burning in her injuries.
He finally let go, and she leaned back, all fuzziness gone. Several gulping breaths brought her back to control.
“You okay?” he asked, smoothing bloody hair off her face.
She swallowed and tried to stem the tears. “Yes.” Her voice shook. “Thank you.”
He grimaced, and his warrior’s hand shook. “I know that hurt, and I’m not done.” He turned her arm over to reveal three thick, bloody lines down her forearm. “If we don’t stem the blood, you won’t be able to heal your face.”
If they didn’t stem the blood, she’d go into a coma and might not recover. “I know.” She tried to straighten her back, her gaze seeking his.
Sorrow and regret mingled with fury in his amazing green eyes. This was costing him more than her, if she had to guess. So she swallowed and tried to smile with the half of her face that still worked. “I’m fine, Enforcer. Let’s see your fire.”
Daire kept his hold gentle on her wrist and hid the turmoil slashing through his gut. There was a chance the burns he was inflicting on her would scar if she didn’t get the strength to heal them and soon. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right.” She tried to smile again, her beautiful face something out of a horror flick. The right side of her face was in ribbons, down to her cheekbone, and to her skull. The roots of her teeth even showed. Waves of pain, excruciating in their intensity, rolled off her, and yet the woman was trying to smile for him. So he could do what had to be done. Her dark eyes held trust and reassurance. “Let’s get it over with, Daire,” she said, the words slurred through one side of her mouth.
He drew in air, altered the oxygen molecules around his hand, and formed a green plasma ball. Toning down the intensity took enough concentration that sweat slickened his forehead, but he hadn’t healed completely yet, and his power had ebbed. Finally, he reached the right mixture and wiped his palm across her forearm.