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Page 84

 Rachel Vincent

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My left fist smashed his nose, but he was already moving.
Dean’s next kick knocked my legs out from under me. His blood seemed to drip in slow motion as I went down hard on my left hip. My injured knee screamed. My mother gasped at my back. A black blur arced toward my face. I rolled, and the world spun around me. Dean’s boot hit my shoulder instead of my face.
Old pain echoed with fresh intensity in my left shoulder. Dean’s foot landed beside my hip, stopping my roll. I shoved with both hands. His leg slid out from under him, and his weight crashed on top of me.
I couldn’t breathe. But neither could he. Stunned, Dean gasped, and sat up to straddle my hips. I buried my right fist in his side. He grunted, then grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my head into the ground.
My vision swam. My pulse roared in my ears, and each breath I took was a ragged gasp. Another dark blur, and pain exploded in my left side. I swung blindly and hit something soft. Hairs popped softly as they were pulled from my scalp. My skull hit the earth again, and everything started to go fuzzy. If I couldn’t get him off me, I wouldn’t last much longer.
I clawed at the hand curled around my hair, and the sudden scent of his blood was a fragrant pick-me-up. Actual claws would have worked better, but I was pretty sure a partial Shift would be considered cheating, since I’d opted for flesh over fur.
I dug harder into his flesh, gouging, burning with determination. Dean hissed and let go. I shoved him back and threw my weight to the right while he was off balance, tossing him to the ground. I leaped to my feet, the ranch spinning around me, and he was up an instant later, watching me warily.
Blood dripped from his broken nose. More rolled down the side of my face. My scalp burned. My brain felt like mush. My nose was dripping from the cold. But Dean looked tired and bruised, and that made it all worth it.
“You know, you don’t have to make this so hard,” he said, breathing heavily enough to give me hope.
“Is this the part where you try to talk me into dropping my fists and climbing into bed with Malone’s marionette?” I panted, trying to slow my pulse and catch my breath.
“You’re either going to lie down under your new Alpha, or next to your old one. The choice is yours.”
“Well, you got that last part right.” I rushed him, already swinging. Dean twisted to avoid the blow. He caught my foot and shoved me backward. I hopped, then limped on my bad knee, reclaiming my balance. But it was too late. Dean rushed me, but his hands were open. I kicked again. He swatted my foot away, spinning me halfway around. Huge hands grabbed my right arm and thigh, just above my knee. The world canted violently, and I was suddenly in the air.
The house flew past my face, a blur of bricks and mortar. I screeched. Dean grunted, and I bobbed, then lurched higher, still screaming, flailing for something to hold on to.
“No!” my mother shouted, but I couldn’t see her.
Dean’s grip tightened. He hurled me at the ground.
The earth slammed into me with the force of a planetary collision, and agony exploded all over my body. My lungs wouldn’t fill. My heart wouldn’t beat. My head wouldn’t move. I couldn’t feel my limbs.
I blinked, and the colors swirled together. Something warm dripped from my ear and curled in the dip of cartilage. Distantly, someone was screaming, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Something hard slammed into the side of my skull. My head rocked violently on my neck. The world went black, but distant blurs of sound still swirled around me.
Something hit my left cheek. Then my right. Something smashed into my nose, and it crunched. I tasted blood, but there was no pain. Why was there no pain? I raised one arm, but it fell away from my face with the next blow.
Someone roared, a thunder of outrage and agony.
Someone else was still screaming, but it wasn’t me. I could only gurgle and choke on my own blood. Then new pain burst within my head, and the sounds disappeared, too.
There was nothing left of me but darkness and silence.
“Faythe… Please wake up, mi vida. Come on. Open your eyes….”
Marc. I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him. I blinked, but there was only a pink haze. A one-dimensional pink haze, because my left eye wouldn’t open. The air tasted like blood. I heard voices everywhere. Talking. Arguing. Shouting. Someone was laughing. And my mother was sobbing. Through it all, I heard my mother crying, and Jace whispering. He was reassuring her with words I couldn’t understand, but I could tell she didn’t believe them. I didn’t believe them, either. “That’s it, nena. Wake up.”
I blinked again, and some of the red cleared. Marc’s face came mostly into focus, but it was oriented strangely. That’s when I realized I was lying on my right side. And that the ground was freezing. And that the world was made of pain.
I gasped, and breathing hurt, so I stopped breathing, but that hurt, too. Each beat of my heart pumped agony through my abused body, throbbing in every bruise, stinging in every cut. And over it all was a background of complete anguish, like tactile white noise—if white noise could kill you.
I couldn’t smell anything. Why couldn’t I smell anything? My nose felt swollen, and hot, and…smashed. But that one pain was hard to separate from the general din of agony. I tried to sit up, but Marc put one gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Whoa, not yet. Give it a minute.”
I sucked in a small breath through what was left of my nose—and froze. Blood. All I could smell was blood, everywhere. And most of it was mine. “Noooo…” I moaned, swallowing more of my own life force, and tears burned in my eyes. Then scalded my cheeks when they fell.