Night Falls on the Wicked - By Sharie Kohler Page 0,78
was so … tedious. You stabbing over and over, never even scratching me.” He sighed, but Niklas noticed he shivered, too. The cold was getting to him. He couldn’t hang on much longer.
Niklas smiled. “Cold, isn’t it?”
Demon-Darby scowled and lifted a hand. The mere motion was all it took to send Niklas flying and crashing back into the wall. The force jarred him to his very bones and he had to resist the impulse to attack. He held himself in check. One look at Darby’s face was all it took. He’d never harm her as long as she was in there, somewhere. If he went after the demon, it would be Darby taking the hit.
The bastard wanted that. He wanted Niklas to kill Darby. Because once that happened, he would be free. Once her body was broken, he could come out. No longer a shadow. No longer with his hands tied. He would be set loose on the world and wreak whatever damage he chose.
Demon-Darby flexed her fingers. “Oh, that felt good. Let’s do that again.”
Niklas staggered to his feet, bracing himself for the next attack as Darby approached. She lifted her hand and blasted Niklas with a second rush of air. He resisted it for a moment, managed to stay on his feet, and then he was flying through the air again, helpless against the force of the current.
The demon made a tsking sound, cocking Darby’s head and sending her magnificent hair tossing around her shoulders. “Shame. I didn’t expect this to end so quickly, but as you said, it is rather cold here. I can’t afford to dally any longer.” He glanced around then. “I suppose I’ll have to leave Darby here again. Like last night. Only this time, when she wakes, it will be to find you dead beside her.”
It was a strange sensation, staring at the face of the woman he loved and feeling only loathing. Because it wasn’t Darby. He wasn’t dealing with the woman he loved right now.
Yes. He loved Darby. The realization that he loved her slid through him smoothly, without the slightest ripple. It should have struck him as a surprise, but it didn’t. Why else would he be here if he didn’t love her?
Fresh resolve coursed through him. Thinking only of doing what he could to drive the demon from Darby’s body, he reached for the necklace at his throat—Darby’s necklace—and ripped it free.
Before the demon could react, he moved in a blur of speed. He pressed the necklace deep into her throat, just below her collarbone. He held it there, pressed against her flesh, hoping that combined with the cold it was enough of an irritant to send the demon running.
The demon shrieked and thrashed, but Niklas clung to Darby, pulling her close to him, holding the three charms tightly against her skin no matter how she fought him.
“Come on, Darby, come back to me,” he urged in a whisper, staring into her still-black eyes.
“No,” the demon spat. “She’s mine now. And forever.”
“Wrong.” With a final push, he drove the charms hard enough against her flesh to shatter each of the vials. They broke from the fierce pressure. He felt the liquid from within roll between his fingers and onto her skin, along with the gritty slide of the salt.
As each charm cracked open, holy water, salt and milk did their damage. The instant the three elements hit her, tendrils of smoke lifted off the surface of her skin, but he didn’t let go.
Even as he hated that he was hurting her, he knew that there was no help for it. The wound would heal and she’d be right in the end … as long as he managed to kill her demon.
Darby’s throat arched, the tendons stretched in agony.
Satisfaction curled through him as her eyes began to fade, flashing in and out. Soulless black one moment and hazel the next.
“Let her go,” he growled, shaking her, his clasp on her neck scalding hot. He knew his Darby was there, close to the surface.
A moan spilled from her lips. The sound came from her. It was Darby. He knew it.
Then he was blown free, ripped from her arms as the demon burst from her in a swirl of black shadow. Niklas’s blade flew from his hand and clattered to the ground.
Darby collapsed a few feet from him in a limp, boneless pile. Niklas scrambled toward her, carefully lifting her with his beastly hands.