The man kicked one of them into a wall hard enough to make the demon pop like a water balloon. The rest of the swarm must have seen it happen, because they moved as one, like a flock of birds, reversing direction to flee. Seconds later they were gone, back around the corner the way they’d come.
He scanned the area, searching for more signs of a threat. His wide shoulders lifted with each even breath, and that big sword was still in his grip, ready for action. Dim light gleamed off his blade, as if collecting specks of it from the inky shadows. He wasn’t looking at her, but she still felt his awareness as keenly as if he’d been staring.
“You’re hurt,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Only a little. I’ll live.”
His gaze hit her then and drove the breath from her body. His eyes were a deep, earthy green, set below thick, dark eyebrows. The bones of his face stood out, forming rigid, masculine angles. His jaw was a bold statement of strength, the muscles there bulging with determination. It wasn’t his good looks that she reacted to, either, though he was a fine-looking man. There was something else in those dark eyes, something potent and stark, with a kind of desperation she’d seen only a few times in her life—usually in those who knew they were about to die. Pain radiated from him, quivering in the small lines around his eyes, so much a part of him that she wasn’t even sure he was aware of how obvious his agony was to anyone who cared to see it.
She couldn’t look away. His pain called out to her, making her ache in ways she didn’t understand. It was as if something inside him was reaching for her, screaming in torment.
Rory shut her eyes to block out his silent pleas for help. A vision of an elderly woman’s sleeping face appeared for a moment before it faded behind closing eyelids.
She pushed aside the visions, trying to concentrate on what was real and looming in front of her—all six and a half feet of him.
He took a step closer, scrutinizing her, and she felt that scrutiny glide along her body down to her cold, throbbing toes. By the time his gaze had made its path from her head to her shoes and back again, she felt stripped bare, trembling and defenseless. And that pissed her off.
She knew what he saw: the pink hair, the heavy makeup, the multiple piercings. No one ever really saw her beneath the shock factor, and that was the way she liked it.
At least until now. For some stupid reason, she wanted this man to see her—the real her—all the way down to her bones.
His gaze slid over her face, then lowered to where she was bleeding. She couldn’t tell whether he was sizing up her injury because he cared or because he was looking for some weakness he could exploit. His face was abs face wout as expressive as a marble wall, so there was no way to know for sure. What she did know was that if he sent that sword sailing in her direction, there wasn’t a damn thing she could think to do to stop him from slicing her in two.
His voice was low and deep, rumbling out of him like stones rolling down a mountain. “Come with me.”
* * *
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THE EDGE NOVELS
Razor’s Edge
Living on the Edge
NOVELS OF THE SENTINEL WARS
Dying Wish
Living Nightmare
Running Scared
Finding the Lost
Burning Alive
Blood Hunt
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sevente LT nen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Special excerpt from Falling Blind
Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel Page 32
