The Healer's Hellion - Miranda Bridges Page 0,2

amazing that I’m still coherent. Even now, my eyes want to shut, my body begging me to rest. If this nightmare is reality, then I’m hoping for a forever sleep. Or maybe whoever is coming will put me out of my misery because even though I’m exhausted, my grief is still pressing on me, a weight that I’ll never be rid of.

The male that comes around the corner immediately locks his gaze on me, even before his silver hair has had a chance to settle about his shoulders. He narrows his eyes, but it doesn’t stop me from seeing the blazing blue hue within. It reminds me of electricity, bright and hot. I’d shiver at the beauty and fierceness of it if I could because his eyes are that captivating.

As I lie helpless and immobile, the male sheathes his sword and drops to his knees beside me. He presses his fingertips to the side of my neck, and the relief on his face is evident. I try to make sense of that and him. Who is this guy, and why does he look like the Witcher with his sword and weird getup? His clothing consists of a black flight suit, and the only decoration is a small line of diamonds on the collar. However, his pointed ears let me know he’s not human. Well, that and the fact that he’s almost seven feet tall and humongous.

If I didn’t see the concern in his gaze, I’d think he is going to kill me. Instead, he runs his fingers over my forehead and brushes back a stray tendril of my hair. The touch is too gentle and too much of a caress for him to be checking me for a fever.

“Are you hurt?” he asks me.

I swallow a couple of times and try to get my mouth in working order. “No.”

He stands and silently makes his way over to my parents. When he touches them, I almost pass out. I can’t explain why it upsets me so much, but it shouldn’t. He’s checking them for signs of life, and I should be grateful, but I already know he’s not going to find any. His mouth thins and his brow furrows after each examination, confirming what I already know: they are no longer alive.

He returns to my side, kneeling once more, and this time I’m not afraid. “What happened here?” he asks. His voice is smooth, like a summer breeze. It immediately puts me at ease.

For a moment anyway.

“Those alligators came and killed my parents,” I say. I’m surprised by the calmness of my tone because inside my emotions are roiling and bouncing around in my chest. It’s only a matter of time before I break and they spill from me. “So I killed those motherfuckers.”

The stranger dips his head in acknowledgment and cups my cheek. “That’s my good girl.”

I’m surprised at my lack of indignation concerning his response. Usually I would find that type of phrase insulting or facetious, yet he’s said it in such a way that I want to preen. It’s as if he’s really proud of me.

I stare up at him, trailing the contours of his face with my gaze. His jawline is strong, and his cheekbones are sharp but not unpleasant. The fullness of his mouth is surprising, yet it doesn’t look feminine on him. Actually, there’s nothing girlie about this male. His body is chiseled muscle, outlined by his clothing. I flick my gaze back to his, studying the uniqueness of his eyes. They are like twin pools that carry a depth I can’t possibly understand, yet they beg me to dive in. I could very well drown in them if he didn’t look away.

“I’m not going to cause you harm,” he says, breaking the spell he’s cast over me. “I need to get you away from here before more Yalat soldiers arrive.”

I nod, not wanting to admit I can’t stand, let alone walk. However, that doesn’t seem to be a problem when the male lifts me into his arms as if I’m a child. He presses me to his chest, and I rest against him, not caring about trying to maintain a pretense of strength. I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but there’s still a part of me that would welcome death.

Not necessarily a win-win but not a lose-lose either.

I turn my head, sweeping my gaze over my parents. “Are they…?”

I can’t even finish the inquiry because it’s too painful. I’m not even sure why I’m