Ash looked to Ba’al, to Mal.
He could send them away.
As if they’d discussed it, Mal went to his knees beside them, his hands around the wound in Miri’s back.
Resolutely, his fiery eyes meeting Ash’s, Ba’al took the piece of rebar gently in his hands, trying not to jar it and hurt Miri further. As much as Ba’al hated the human race, and with reason, Ba’al would be quick, Ash knew, because it was Miri.
They’d been friends, Ba’al and Mal and with the loss of their mothers, their sisters and the deaths of their fathers, they’d been the only family the other had. They’d been inseparable since the Parting, when the Daemonae left for the other plane.
There was a chance, a remote chance, Ash could shift them all to the other plane, to the one they’d known so well but it was risky.
Healing Miri would take most of his strength, there was the chance he wouldn’t have enough, even with all he’d taken from her, that he would fail and they would all die.
If he did nothing, it was a sure thing.
It was here or not at all.
Cradling Miri tightly in his arm, Ash let the healing energy flow. He gathered the energy she’d given him each time they made love, each time he’d tasted her, swell within him. The warmth of it centered around his heart, the heart she’d healed, and spread it through his limbs in a great flood. His hands warmed.
A part of him had feared that without a mate he wouldn’t have had the strength to help Gabriel with her baby but as that power moved through him, he knew he would have enough and more than enough. Thanks to Miri, to his true mate, if she lived.
Cupping her face, Ash looked down into those green eyes he loved so well and tipped her chin up.
“Fight for me,” he said, “Fight, Miri.”
Miri heard the words, fought to focus, looked into his brilliant eyes, the sparks in them whirling.
It didn’t have to be, the future had infinite possibilities.
She looked up into Ash’s long-lashed golden eyes, into the sparks that whirled in them, and despite the pain she smiled. He was beautiful, so beautiful.
There was never a question. Of course she would fight.
She struggled just to draw breath, it felt as if she were drowning, the intrusion within her was so monstrous and heavy. But she nodded.
His hands were warm, almost hot as they touched her, held her. That warmth, Ash’s warmth, poured into her.
Love you
, she told him.
Tightening his arms around her, Ash said, “I love you too. Always. Mine.”
Miri’s green eyes locked on his. She nodded.
Larger and larger pieces of ceiling fell around them, striking the marble floor like bombs. From above their heads they heard a groan of metal, the wail of wood grinding on itself.
Ash looked at Ba’al, who nodded. Suddenly, swiftly, he pulled.
The rebar came free.
In Ash’s arms, Miri arched, a moan escaping her.
Swiftly, desperately, Ash sent healing in the wake of the pain, tried to cushion it, tried to absorb the blow, to relieve the terrible pain. Her hand locked over his, the one over his shoulder clutched.
Pain lanced through her, terrible enough Miri almost wished she’d died with that first thrust.
Almost.
But she hadn’t.
There was Ash.
Her eyes were locked on his brilliant amber ones, fixed on his seemingly harsh cruel face despite the pain. A nearly scorching heat burned through her where his hands touched her.
That heat spread through her like a warm balm, at times almost too hot, but the terrible pain vanished in its wake until she could breathe once again.
With her gaze still on his she took a deep breath, feeling all the torn, damaged places within her mending, Healing.
Magic.
The pain vanished.
With an effort, Miri raised her hand to touch his cheek, to trace one strongly slanted cheekbone, to caress the harsh stern lines of his face, as she looked into his warm amber eyes. Into the fear and the love there.
He could look so fierce, so cruel, so coldly handsome. But he was Ashtoreth, and in his eyes, despite all he’d been through, despite torture and exile, despite loneliness and pain, there was still hope. And love.
Looking into his brilliant golden eyes, feeling the sting of the lashes across his back, the scores of the Stranger’s claws as if they were her own, Miri returned the favor.
As the marks of battle faded and disappeared, Ash looked down into the eyes of his soul mate, his hand still cupping her cheek and knew that more than his wounds were healed. Ash touched her face. He watched her green eyes clear as he hunched over her to protect her from the falling debris.
More and more of the ceiling rained down around them.
“Mine,” he said.
With a smile, Miri lifted her chin to accept his kiss, however brief.
Gathering her up into his arms, Ash looked at Ba’al and Mal.
“Let’s go.”
Both nodded.
“This way,” Mal shouted and led them swiftly through the potentially lethal rain of plaster and acoustic tiles, cement and wood as the ceiling buckled and began to collapse. “When I got here I couldn’t find you, I had to do some searching before I found the right door.”
“Keep going,” Ash shouted, as they darted into the stairwell, his arms locked tightly around Miri. “The stairs.”
The elevators would be a death trap.
All around them the building groaned and shuddered, creaked and strained.
They raced upward.
Below them heard a enormous crack and then another. The sounds were tremendous. Then a boom. The sound was huge, overwhelming, as the supports gave way. A monstrous roar filled the air as the doors below them exploded outward from the sudden shift of weight and a massive cloud of dust rushed up toward them.
All three Daemonae put on another burst of speed to outrun it, Ba’al and Mal’s shoulders hitting the doors to the parking garage just as the explosion of dust and debris hit, to blow past them in a thick, choking cloud littered with the flotsam and jetsam it had amassed. Bits of wood and steel became missiles.
Miri buried her face in Ash’s shoulder as he buried his in her hair. Ba’al and Mal used their sleeves to keep the dust and debris from their eyes, nose and mouth.
“Keep going,” Ash shouted, “Go!”
They raced out of the garage and across the parking lot to a symphony of cracking glass behind them, and the scream of bending metal.
At the edge of the parking lot, they turned to look.
Window panes snapped, dust and debris exploding outward.
The great multi-story building seemed to…settle…for a moment as glass exploded and came down around it in great tumbling shards and sheets to shatter on the ground below it.
Then slowly, almost majestically, the building collapsed in on itself.
“When the roof started to creak and groan,” Ba’al said, “most of Templeton’s men ran.”
At least there was that. Ash didn’t want their deaths on him, not in cold blood.
“Mal,” Ash said, “shift and go check the car. I wouldn’t put it past Templeton to have left us a small parting gift in case we escaped alive.”
With a nod, Mal swiftly faded into the misty pre-dawn darkness, the only sound now the sound of his wings on the air and the breeze.
An almost shocked silence surrounded them. Even the birds seemed to keep their own counsel.
Miri looked at Ash.
“You can put me down now, if you want, Ash,” she said, “I can walk.”
He looked at her, thinking about how close he’d come to losing her. His heart wrenched and he tightened his arms around her instead.
“I don’t want,” he said.
Something around his heart eased a little when she laid her head against his shoulder and he brushed his cheek against her hair.
Miri was content to stay where she was, with Ash’s strong arms around her, cradled safe in his arms, her own loose around his neck. She could feel the strength of him beneath her hands, warm and solid, his warm skin as smooth as satin. She buried her face against his throat, pressed her lips against his throat to feel his pulse.
There was the sound of wings nearby as the birds began once more to sing and chatter.
Looking up at the brightening sky, she thought the birds wouldn’t be here much longer, the scattered cirrus clouds that were slowly turning gold promised rain soon but the day would be lovely until then.
Ba’al reappeared, becoming visible again as he landed, his wings spread.
He was a surprisingly beautiful sight to see, his dark shimmering form limned in the early dawn light, muscles taut, wings spread against the horizon, his darkness against the thin light.
“Everything looks fine,” he said. “There’s no sign of anyone.”
Ash let out a breath and nodded. “Thanks. It’s better not to take the chance. Are both of you all right?”
With a shrug, Mal said, “A few cuts, scrapes and bruises, nothing major.”
“If you’re up to it then, go on and head for home,” he said. “We’ll follow. If you beat us there, tell them we’re on our way.”
The bikes had far greater speed then the car, especially the way they all rode.
With a nod, wearily Ba’al said, “We’ll rest when we get there.”
Both Daemonae spread their wings and took off with great sweeps of them, gorgeous against the gathering dawn as the sun shone through the thin membranes, to fly back to where they’d left their bikes.
Ash walked between the last of the trees to find the car exactly where they left it and for the first time since they’d escaped he put Miri down but not away.
Instead he drew her into his arms.
Closing his eyes, his throat locked as he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He loved the soft brush of her curls against his face, the feel of her arms tight around him. For a moment he simply breathed in the scent of her again, relished the fell of her in his arms, both solid and fragile at the same time. Real. Alive. And safe, as he intended to keep her, from this moment onward.
Sliding her arms around Ash’s waist, Miri slid her hands up the long, strong muscles, feeling the fresh scars there like ripples in the smooth expanse of his broad back. His hair brushed across her fingers, the strands like silk.
There was such strength in him. He felt wonderful, marvelous, with his powerful body wrapped around her. Pressing her cheek against the solid muscles of his chest, Miri remembered the sight of that darkness rising. And with it the rebar, knowing what the iron in it would do to him.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Ash said, reading her mind.
He pushed her back and lifted her by her waist to set her down hard on the hood of the car, his eyes intent on hers, fierce and glowing.
A little startled, Miri flared right back. “What, don’t try to save your life like you fought to save mine? How many times now? Three, four?”