Angel Blood

39- Don't Go

"Calli," a soft voice prods the darkness swimming behind my eyes. I don't want to leave it just yet, although I can't quite remember why. "Calli. Wake up."

I groan, trying to turn away from the prodding voice but my body feels so heavy and raw that I put a stop to the movement.

"Wake up," an impatient snarl sounds next to me. I flinch as a sharp sting burns over my cheek.

"Jesus, Dante," that soft voice mutters.

Something heavy thuds dully beside me, sounding suspiciously like flesh hitting concrete. Dante hisses a pained breath.

"Let me go, fucker," Dante hisses. "Or we'll call off the deal."

It's silent for a long moment, then a familiar click fills my ears. Dante lets out a startled shout before a loud pop erupts through the echoing room, causing my ears to ring as something warm splashes across my cheek.

"You motherfucker," Kal breathes. I can tell he intends the words to come out thick with fury, but the hollow sound of barely-concealed terror fills his voice instead.

"If I see anyone else try to touch her, you'll find that my punishments are typically far less merciful," a familiar dark croon growls. Sinclair. For some reason, his presence soothes a deep ache within my chest I hadn't realized pained me until now.

"And if you lay another finger on my children, I'll gut her and force you to watch, Black," Delia says. She sounds far away, her voice ricocheting through the room although her approaching footsteps indicate she's headed in our direction.

"You owe me blood," Sin says, a quiet, spine-chilling kind of rage leaking into his voice. "I was promised she'd be returned safely."

"I recall that I told you I'd return her to you alive."

"Watch yourself, angel blood." I feel the warmth of his body seep into my side and realize he must be kneeling beside me, the tickle of his fingertips hesitantly smoothing over the lingering twinge on my cheek as if he's scared he'll break me further. "I don't take well to other people touching what's mine."

She scoffs. "You'd be wise to remember that she belonged to me before you stole her away. You're merely a blip in her timeline, Sinclair Black."

He snorts at that. "I could say the same to you." Despite his harsh tone, he lays the softest touch on the arm throbbing at my side, breaking me free of my half-conscious state and causing my eyes to shoot open.

Pain flashes through me so sharply that black speckles my vision. "Fuck me sideways," I whisper, trying not to look over at the mess of mangled skin that makes up my bicep. "That hurts like a bitch." I take in his presence, looking over his broad body with wide eyes. Thankfully, he seems untouched aside from a small splattering of blood on his shirt. Probably Dante's, considering the conversation I overheard only moments ago. "What are you doing here?"

"Easy now," Sinclair murmurs, gently brushing his finger over my lips. He gazes down at me, ashen eyes tender despite the tautness that radiates throughout his body. "I'm getting you out of here."

Guilt, thick and heavy dredges through my veins at another realization I realize I'll have to utter to him. "Oliver...he—"

"I know," he says, looking away even as his thumbs draw little circles over my cheekbones. "Don't get yourself worked up over it right now."

Hot and unbidden tears rise in my eyes. A part deep inside of me screams that it's my fault. That if I hadn't needed to be protected, he wouldn't have had to put his safety over mine in the first place.