And a white-and-gray scaled purse that was on fire.
Whatever. He had Mae in his arms, and that was all that mattered.
• • •
Mae had been at the end of her rope, weeping into her hands—when she’d heard something outside the door. And then an arm, a heavily muscled, heavily veined arm, had somehow, in some way, come at her. She’d been so shocked, she’d nearly bolted.
But then she’d scented Sahvage. Clearly.
And then he’d appeared, right in front of her, leaning through the door.
“Mae!”
As he’d said her name, she hadn’t thought twice. She’d sprung forward and thrown herself at him—and the second his solid hold registered, she nearly blew apart from relief. She had never gripped anything so hard in her life.
Sahvage told her something about holding on to him, but that was a command she did not require as she locked on to the back of his neck and all but wrapped her legs around his waist. When he started to retreat through the door, the pulling was terrible, her body stretching until her bones were spears of agony and her muscles strings of white-hot pain. All she could do was bury her face in his thick throat and try to keep breathing.
The trembling came next, chills racing through her, chattering her teeth, spasming her legs. Just as she thought she was going to shatter apart, at the moment when she knew she could take no more, there was a release, all the drag on her body disappearing—
Mae exploded out of the lair, sure as if she were spring-loaded—and Sahvage was her landing pad. As they were thrown back against a corridor’s wall, she banged into his chest, her knee hitting something rock hard, her nose registering all kinds of new smells.
“I’ve got you,” he said in the numb aftermath. “You’re okay, you’re out . . . I got you.”
Mae shook all over, her adrenaline ebbing and leaving her so limp, she couldn’t lift her head.
“It’s all right . . .” Sahvage murmured as he stroked her shoulders.
Gradually, Mae’s senses came back online properly. They were in a hallway . . . outside of a steel door that was closed.
Two enormous males were standing over them.
And a demon was still returning at any second.
With panic, Mae shoved herself up off Sahvage’s pecs. “We need to get out of here. She’s coming back. We need—my house. Let’s go there. The salt will keep her out—”
“Can you dematerialize?”
With Sahvage’s help, Mae managed to stand mostly on her own, but when she lurched to the side abruptly, he cursed. So did she.
“If you have to go on foot, we’ll guard you,” one of the males, the stockier of the pair, said.
As she glanced at him, she realized he had a pair of black daggers strapped, handles down, to his chest. And so did the other one.
The Black Dagger Brotherhood, she thought with awe.
“I’ve got you,” Sahvage said for the hundredth time.
The next thing she knew, he’d scooped her up and started running. With all his strength, he carried her down the concrete hall like she didn’t weigh anything at all, his boots pounding over the bare floor as the two Brothers provided cover in front and in back.
When they got a heavy door with a red exit sign over it, the stockier Brother jumped ahead and held the thing open.
“This way,” he ordered.
Mae felt her awareness come and go, like it had just after she’d been in that accident. Meanwhile, Sahvage just kept soldiering on, running, running, running, as if he had endless amounts of energy and all the power in the world in his body.
Eventually, they came to some kind of delivery facility, a lineup of cargo bays and all kinds of rolling bins suggesting they were in a big building’s mail processing department. The two other fighters immediately went over to one of the receiving areas and broke open a set of vertical doors, rolling the slats up on their tracks—
All at once, Mae smelled night air—that carried a hint of oil and trash. They were downtown somewhere.
“I can dematerialize,” she said roughly. Clearing her throat, she spoke louder. “I can do it.”
“Let’s get you checked out first.”
Sahvage jumped down to the pavement, and as he started running again, she realized they were heading to a huge RV . . . where a man in a white coat—a human?—was standing by what looked to be an operating room.
“No, it’s not safe,” Mae said as she pushed against Sahvage’s shoulder. “I have to go back to my house. She’s coming here any minute—”
“Mae—”
“No!” She shoved herself out of his arms and had to catch herself on the vehicle’s brake lights. “She’s coming!” Mae looked at all the males in a panic. “You don’t understand what she is—”
“No,” the stockier one countered. “We know exactly what she is. If you have a safe place, get to it now. We’ll catch up with you.”