Impassion (Mystic) (39 page)

Chapter 28

T
rapped in excruciating agony, Layla
was immobile, her body a block of burning steel—heavy, stiff and unable to escape the flaming torture. She didn’t understand how her lungs still worked. Surely they, too, had flattened under oppressive pain.

Despite how damaged and useless her body was, her brain worked fine, and it sped through her last moments of consciousness, wondering how she’d survived and where she was.

She raised one eyelid, but everything was blurry, so she closed it and concentrated on her sense of touch. A fresh wave of agony washed over her, but she focused through it, realizing she was in someone’s arms. Flying maybe? The cold wind slapping tender flesh told her yes.

Damn.
She was on her way to Agro.

She hurt too bad to work up any real terror, but she wished she could kill the bastard carrying her. He’s the one who brutally broke her bones.

“It’s okay, Layla,” said a familiar male voice.

She jolted. Big mistake. A scream ripped from her throat as her fragmented body protested. But the scream’s consequences were worse. The shriek twisted her broken face, and her stomach churned.
Oh god, please don’t get sick.
That would kill her.

“It’s okay,” the voice repeated. “The piece of shit who did this is dead.” He murmured a few profanities then cleared his throat. “I can’t believe this happened.”

Layla searched her pounding brain, trying to figure out who was speaking, but she couldn’t place the voice with a face or name. She opened one eye again, and this time she left it open.

When her vision cleared, she was surprised, confused and relieved to find Finley. His multicolored eyes were trained on her face, and his jaw flexed around thin lips.

Layla closed her eye again, wondering how she’d ended up in his arms. She wanted to ask, but couldn’t. The tiniest movements vexed her wounds.

A different voice drifted to her from a distance, and this one she definitely knew.

“Son of a bitch.”

She instinctively turned toward the beautiful sound, and another scream vibrated her throat. “Quin!”

“Shit.” He was much closer now. “If you did this to her...” His voice lowered to a deadly growl. “...I’ll kill you.”

“Back off,” Finley barked, tensing around her. “I saved her ass.”

“Layla!” several women screamed, but Morrigan and Daleen were the loudest.

Layla tried to open both eyes, but only one obeyed. She spun it around until she found Quin, and her lungs stuttered as she reached for his cheek. Tears gathered, blurring the heavenly vision, and a thick lump consumed her throat.

“Quin,” she slurred, pissed she couldn’t form his name correctly.

His hot breath swept across her face as he leaned close. “I’m here, love. You’re going to be okay.”

He looked away, so she closed her eye. He was the only thing she cared to see.

“Give her to me,” he demanded.

“No,” Finley shot back.

Quin sucked in an angry breath, and Finley’s hard muscles shifted like rocky terrain.

“She’s in bad shape,” he added. “If I hand her to you, it will hurt her.”

“Shit,” Quin hissed.

His breath found Layla’s face again, and he spoke so tenderly, they could have been back in her bed, sharing a perfect moment over coffee. “You’re going to be okay, love. You’re almost home.” He paused, taking a slow breath as his caress moved from her forehead to her curls. “I’ll make this right, Layla. I swear.”

Tears rolled from her swollen lids as she tried to say his name, but it was hardly a squeak.

He sucked it in as he softly touched his lips to hers. “I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry. I should have been here.”

He backed away and took her hand, keeping it to his lips as they flew the rest of the way home.

Her body jarred when Finley landed, and a pitiful moan vibrated her thick throat.

“Shit,” Quin repeated.

“Calm down, son.”

“No! This shouldn’t have happened. Where were the guards?”

Several women sobbed, and Brietta pleaded. “I’m so sorry, Layla. We should have stayed on the lawn. We should have stayed together.”

Layla wanted to tell her it was okay, that she and Skyla weren’t to blame, but she couldn’t find the energy to mind search.

“Here,” Caitrin ordered.

Finley’s arms shifted beneath her, and a raging battle between fever and chill broke out, relentlessly convulsing her body.

“Hover her,” Quin demanded.

“Lay off,” Finley growled. “You’ll get her back in two seconds.”

He laid her on a bed, and she pressed her lips together, stifling a sob as her heart rate spiked and her wounds pulsed. This exacerbated her quaking, and she could have sworn several pieces of splintered bone drifted apart. A cry burst from her swollen mouth, and so her pain strengthened. How was she still conscious?

Quin’s lips touched hers, and she gasped him in, trying so hard to still her shaking body, but she had no control over it. One second heat raged through her veins, and the next icy chills rippled from her head to her toes.

Soothing warmth flowed from Quin’s lips, calming the storm, but it only lasted as long as his magic, so he repeated the process, giving her a longer reprieve. “What hurts the most?” he whispered. “I’m going to fix it.”

She reached up and found his face—his eyebrows, nose and lips. She didn’t need to look at him to see him. His features were clear in her mind and they were gorgeous.

He brought his hand over hers and kissed her palm. “Can you show me? Move my hand to where it hurts.”

Layla wanted to speak, so she lightly touched the part of her jaw that swam with fragmented bone. Quin pulled her fingers away and exchanged them for his lips. Then he raised his head with a diagnosis.

“It’s crushed. You do it, Serafin.”

Layla panicked and things got worse. Her muscles tensed, her pain increased, a scream scraped her throat, and she gripped Quin’s wrist like it was her last breath of air, because that’s how she felt. If he left her, she’d suffocate.

“Calm down, Layla,” Serafin pleaded. “Do what you can, Quin. I’ll work around you once I get some answers.”

Quin’s lips returned to her jaw, and she desperately stroked his arms and head while trying to calm her lungs.

Morrigan and Daleen continued to cry, along with several witches Layla couldn’t name, but Serafin’s strained voice drowned the others out. “What happened, Finley? I want to know what you know now.”

“First of all,” Finley countered, “you guys need to quit treating me like a villain. I saved her life.”

Quin’s chest rumbled as he pulled away. “Get over yourself and tell us what happened.” His lips returned to Layla’s jaw, barely caressing sore skin, and a fraction of the pain ebbed every second he worked his magic.

“A wizard was beating the shit out of her,” Finley answered, like it was a regular occurrence in the magical world.

“We’ve gathered that much,” Daleen snapped. “Where did you come from?”

“I was flying into the community when I heard a crack, like a tree limb falling. I flew to check it out and found the guy roughing her up.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Caitrin prompted him to. “And?”

“What do you mean
and
? I killed him and brought her here.”

The room went silent as Quin’s magic momentarily paused.

“You killed him?” Caitrin asked. “Without attempting to stop him?”

“Yeah, I killed him,” Finley sharply confirmed, “and trust me, it stopped him.”

Quin raised his head and carefully wiped away Layla’s tears. “I would have killed the bastard, too,” he whispered. Then he lowered his lips to her jaw.

Caitrin sighed then cleared his throat. “Will you go get the body, Kemble; make sure Finley’s telling the truth?”

“I swear,” Finley groaned, “this is the most unfriendly coven I’ve met in the area. Why would I lie about this?”

“We don’t know you,” Caitrin countered, “and we don’t trust you. You fly in here with my granddaughter half beaten to death and expect us to welcome you with a smile?”

“I didn’t do this. She would have died had I not come along.”

Quin’s lips moved away again. “Why did you come along? It’s too damn convenient.” Then he continued healing.

“You better be glad I did,” Finley snarled, “or there would be nothing left for you to hold prisoner.”

Layla sensed Quin’s tension, so she found his face and rubbed a thumb across his tight jaw.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, bringing his hand over hers. “Try to relax. Is it getting better? Rub my face if it’s getting better.”

She did, and he kissed the pad of her thumb. “Good. Just take it easy and let us fix this.”

He went back to mending her jaw while Serafin laid a palm to her skull. Then Kemble spoke from across the room. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hey,” Caitrin called after him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“See if you can locate Hypnos while you’re out.”

“Sure,” Kemble agreed.

A moment of silence passed. Then Caitrin spoke in a defeated tone. “What exactly did you see him doing to her, Finley?”

“He had her from behind,” Finley answered, “with her face in his hand. There was a broken tree limb at her feet, but I don’t know if it was his weapon or hers.”

Quin muttered a string of profanities as he backed away and began searching her for hidden injuries.

‘
My knee,
’ she mentally conveyed, and it hurt like hell, piercing her brain like a dagger. She wanted to say so much more to him, but she wanted to say it without the daggers, out loud, while looking into his eyes.

She felt her dress slide up her leg, and several people gasped as Quin lightly touched her right knee. “Shattered.”

“I’ll take care of that one,” Serafin insisted, moving away from her head. “You get back to her jaw.”

“No concussion?”

“No.”

Quin returned to her face and whispered over her lips. “It’s going to hurt, love. He has to touch it to heal it. Be strong for me, and you’ll feel better soon.” He resumed his healing, and she found his hair, running her fingers through it over and over again.

“What else can you tell us, Finley?” Caitrin asked.

“Not much. The wizard was about to take flight when I hit him in the back with a spell. He fell on her, which I think is what knocked her out. She woke up when I was bringing her here. That’s about the time Quin damn near attacked me. You know,” he added, his voice rising in volume and indignation, “maybe you guys should answer a few questions for me. Like why you have Layla locked up around here, and why she’s being attacked by deadly wizards. I can see she’s not an average witch, and I’m perfectly aware of why her aura looks like that. But who does she have after her? And why is there nothing being done about it?”

A long moment of silence passed before Caitrin responded. “The Unforgivables.”

“Of course,” Finley replied. “And why is she so helpless?”

Like before, Caitrin hesitated before answering. “She’s new to the magical world.”

“Would you like to elaborate?”

“No.”

Layla listened to every word, but only as a means to pass the time. She didn’t need reminded, and she wasn’t the least bit curious for answers. She recalled the attack very well and didn’t care how or why it happened. None of that mattered. She was alive and Quin was touching her, and that was the only thing that meant anything.

Her jaw remained broken in several spots, and the bones he’d already healed still ached, but she was desperate to talk, so she gave it a shot. “Quin.”

It was pitiful and slurred, but he heard her and moved his lips to hers. “Shh... Don’t talk. Just let us heal you. Please.”

Her pout quivered as she took his cheeks and held him in place. “I thought I’d… never see you again.”

“I’m here,” he assured. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

He tried to return to her jaw, but she tightened her hold as tears of physical agony and emotional ecstasy streamed down her temples. She meant to open both eyes, but only one obeyed, so she found his gaze with it. “I love you, Quin.”

His face flexed as his shiny eyes reflected her battered image. Then his throat swelled as he wiped away her tears. “I know, angel. I love you, too, with every beat of my aching heart. But you have to let us heal you. We’ll talk all night once you’re better, but for now, please relax.”

She tried to nod, but it hurt too much. Her entire face felt like it had exploded, and she couldn’t do a damn thing with it in pieces. She was ready for it to be better so she could look at him,
really
look at him, smile at him, and talk to him.

She pulled his lips to hers, compelling him to kiss her. Then she moved his mouth to the part of her jaw that hurt the most. He began healing, and she closed her eye, trying to relax for him.

She did fairly well, but then a nearby sob caught her attention and roused her senses. Hints of vanilla, magnolia and jasmine mingled with Quin’s scent, and Layla knew Brietta was crying beside her.

She reached out, and Brietta took her hand, cradling it as she gently fiddled with her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Layla.”

Layla squeezed her hand, bracing for an extra shot of pain as she mind searched her. ‘
It’s okay, Bri. I’m okay. This wasn’t your fault.
’

Brietta sobbed again, so Layla pulled her down and blindly dried her tears.

“They’re fixing you up,” Brietta whispered, kissing her palm. “You’ll feel better soon.”

Layla ran her fingers through Brietta’s silky hair. Then she moved them to Quin’s face, urging him to a more painful area. She hated not being able to talk to the people she loved.

Negative energy hovered in the room, and Layla wished she could clear it away, replace it with the appreciation and love clutching her. Sure, she was in agony and frustrated with her condition, but her heart was perfectly healthy. In fact, it beat harder and stronger than ever, and she didn’t even mind that it pounded against cracked ribs.

After several minutes of tense silence, she thought her jaw might be healed enough for her to open her mouth without burning torture, so she attempted to speak. “What’s wrong with my eye?” Her voice was rough and slightly slurred, but understandable, and several relieved sighs drifted through the room.

“It’s swollen shut,” Quin answered, lightly touching the wound. “Your brow bone’s cracked.”

“Will you heal it next? It’s driving me crazy to only open one eye.”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I need to do to fix this, just point me in the right direction.”

“Mkay. I think some of my ribs are broken.”

Quin grumbled his disapproval. Then cool air rushed over Layla’s stomach as he ripped her dress open. He slipped one hand under the velvet, drifting it along her ribs. Then he stopped on one of the more painful areas while touching his lips to her brow. When she flinched, so did he.

Serafin still touched her knee, and it felt much better. Amazing really—what magicians could do for injuries. Had she been taken to a hospital, she probably would have ended up on an operating table.

Morrigan and Daleen continued to mourn, so Layla held out a hand and called for them. They rushed to obey, and Daleen took her hand while Morrigan stroked her forearm.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Morrigan whispered.

Daleen kissed Layla’s palm then laid her cheek in it. “We’re sorry we let this happen, Layla, but we’re going to make it right.”