And then there was nothing. No shadows, no power tearing me apart, just a deep pit of unconsciousness that I fell into gratefully.
Of course, my life being what it was of late, I didn’t get to remain in that peaceful void for long.
As consciousness returned, it became apparent that I was no longer standing. I lay on my back, stretched out on the carpet, my head resting against thighs that were as hard as steel and as hot as a furnace. Gentle fingers brushed sweaty strands of hair from my face.
"Don’t try to speak," Azriel said softly. "Your throat will be raw."
From the screaming, no doubt. God, what would the customers think? And why wasn’t a squadron of cops beating down our door right now?
"The magic that binds also contains. The only person who heard your screams was me."
There was an odd edge to his voice, and I opened my eyes and looked up at him. There was concern and regret in his expression, and maybe even a hint of censure. But at himself rather than me, I suspected.
"You are correct," he confirmed. "I did not think the binding would affect you that way. It doesn’t us."
I licked dry lips and somehow croaked, "I’m not Mijai. I’m a half-breed nonhuman."
A slight smile touched his lips—an echo of warmth that curled through my being, chasing away the chill. "But a very brave one."
I snorted softly. "Okay, who are you? The Azriel I know wouldn’t be saying shit like that."
He paused. "Why is it that many humans—or in your case nonhumans—are reluctant to accept a compliment when it is given?"
"I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, I don’t deserve the compliment. I was scared shitless."
"My point exactly."
I grimaced and pushed upright, needing to get away not only from the heat of him, but from the gentle caress of his fingers. I glanced down at my body. There was no blood on my shirt, no dark stain on the carpet. I was whole. It was as if the shadowed sword had never been a part of me.