Jewel was released; she thumped to the ground. As the creature spun toward him, Gray hit him again and again, until there was nothing left. He was panting with the force of his rage. Only when his arms shook and his hands throbbed from splinters did he drop the club.
His gaze found Jewel. Her eyes were closed, her face soft, as if she were sleeping. He knelt and gently gathered her in his arms. Her head fell back, her hair streaming down. A few centaurs were scattered throughout the hallway, gasping at the blood. Gasping at the sight of Jewel.
"It's her," one of them said, his voice reverent. The foolish horse-man took a step toward her, reaching out.
"Touch her and die," Gray snarled. Without another word, he carried her to their room, kicking bodies and debris out of the way. He laid his woman on the mountain of pillows. His fingers found the hollow of her neck where her pulse should... beat... Thank God! His knees buckled in relief. Her pulse was weak and thready, but it was there.
She was alive.
His satisfaction was a palpable, all-consuming force, and in that moment he recognized Jewel as his woman, the one woman for him. The one he couldn't live without. He might deny it later, but for now, in this moment, he acknowledged the truth.
He stayed on his knees, ripping off her robe, searching for her wounds. Blood had dripped onto her stomach, and he cleaned it away to ascertain she hadn't been hurt there. That kind of wound was often fatal, but he encountered only smooth, healthy skin.
The only wound he could see was on her left arm. There were dime-sized holes from the club spikes, and the skin was black and blue. As he watched, however, the holes began to close, the bruises began to fade.
His eyes widened. She was healing at a superhuman speed. His unsteady heartbeat slowed and calmed, and the rage in his blood dwindled. The things he'd done only moments before played through his mind. Without any remorse, he'd sucked the blood from someone's neck. And he'd liked it. He'd clubbed someone. And he'd liked it.
Obviously the desire for blood was not because he'd lost some of his own like he'd first supposed. Something was changing inside him, something dark and dangerous. He didn't understand it, was almost afraid to analyze it, but there it was.
Jewel gasped, and her eyelids popped open. "Gray."
"King of kings, more Formorians will arrive soon," one of the centaurs said, stepping into the room. "They will sense the deaths of their brethren and come. We must prepare." Hooves pounded in the background.
"How you feeling?" he asked softly, not moving from his place beside Jewel. An army could invade, and he wouldn't have cared. He wasn't leaving this spot until he was one hundred percent positive of her recovery.
"Stiff, but good." She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. "Did I kill him?"
"Yes," he lied, knowing that was what she wanted to hear. He smoothed his hands over her face, lingering over the seam of her lips. "How did you heal like that, sweetheart? Do you need extra time to heal internally?"
Her face scrunched adorably in her confusion.
"Heal? I remember that he hit me and that it burned like fire, but I feel fine now. He must not have hit me very hard."
She didn't know, he realized. She didn't know the club had cut through to the bone. "Easy, easy," he said as she jerked to a sitting position.
"Gray, I'm fine - " She glanced down and saw her nakedness. Gasping, she pulled her robe tight against her. "I thought I covered myself!"
He grinned. His little Prudence would be fine. He didn't understand it. Hell, he didn't understand a lot of the things that had happened lately, but he was okay with that because Jewel would live.
Gray planted a swift kiss on her lips and pushed to his feet. "We have to get out of here." He scrambled around the room, grabbing his backpack, weapons, and securing his robe over his shoulders.
Jewel's cheeks glowed bright as she realized her robe simply wouldn't cover her breasts. The edges were ripped to shreds. She grabbed the velvet-soft sheet atop the pillows and wrapped it around herself. When she finished, she gazed at the room, at the carnage littering the floor.
"I should have sensed them," she said quietly. "I should have known they were coming."