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The woman near the tree needed his help now. Her brown eyes held shock and her shaking was worse. Sachin approached and she cried out, trying to make herself smaller.
He stilled and looked down at himself. Blood dripped freely from his right arm and he cursed himself for not thinking to shield her mind from seeing the events unfolding. Wiping his hand on his pants, he thought back to his landing when his wings had been full. Had she seen him?
“D-don’t…don’t…hurt me,” she stammered.
The idea sickened him. “I mean you no harm.”
Moonlight streaked through the treetops, casting its soft rays over her hair. If his judgment was correct, she had auburn hair. Her skin was pale, creamy and currently marred with the start of bruises. He wanted to revive the man and kill him again for daring to harm her.
Calming himself, Sachin took a step forward and bent, going to one knee. There was so much blood on her. Sachin wasn’t sure how she was alive. “Where are you hurt?”
“Not my blood,” she said, her voice low. Their gazes collided and his chest tightened. She was breathtaking, even in her current state of disarray. “My mother.”
“What about her?” Sachin reached out tentatively, worried she’d scream or pull away. She didn’t, and he began to check her over for signs of injury. Aside from the bruises, he found none.
She scrambled to him, tossing her arms around his waist, nearly causing him to lose his balance. “It’s her blood. He… Hank killed her.”
Her pain sliced through Sachin. He stroked her hair and held her close, sensing how very young she was. His guess was that she was in her late teens. She clung to him, sobbing openly. Never one who was known for comforting women, Sachin was at a loss as to what to do. He did what felt natural. He kissed the top of her head, ignoring the biting pain and the limited use of his right arm. She weighed practically nothing.
He held her until her crying stopped and she fell silent. The steady, rhythmic sound of her breathing indicated she was asleep. It was for the best. He allowed his wings to form and lifted her high into the air, already knowing where he would take her—the ranch near the portal. The one run by an older woman who took in troubled teens.
He flew, covering the distance in record time. Upon landing, he quickly shifted into human form and carried the young female to the front door. He tapped it with his foot and waited. A woman he’d seen often enough when flying overhead opened the door. Sachin expected her to question why a man she did not know was holding an unconscious woman on her doorstep. She didn’t.
She offered a soft smile and stepped back, opening the door wide. “You can lay her on the sofa.”
Sachin did.
“How bad is she hurt?”
Confused, Sachin stared at the older woman, wondering why she was so composed. “The blood is not hers. It is her mother’s.”
“Is Tandy dead?” the woman asked.
Unsure, he shrugged. “I know not who Tandy is.”
“Tandy is Paige’s mother.” The woman bent near the sofa. “This here is Paige. She helps me tend the horses on her summer breaks.” She stood. “Where are my manners? I’m Sarah, in case you forgot.”
Forgot?
Sarah smiled. “I met you when I was a little girl. You swooped out of the sky and plucked me out of the ravine I’d fallen into. You told me I was dreaming and that you weren’t real. Either I’m dreaming again, or you’re real.”
Sachin glanced around nervously. He wanted only to have the young female cared for and to be gone from the human realm. Already too much had happened. He would have a lot of explaining to do when he returned to his realm.
Sarah waved a hand in the air. “Your secret is safe with me. I didn’t tell anyone about the bird-man when I was little. I’m sure the hell not going to start now.”
“You will watch over her?” He stared at Paige, not wanting to leave her, but he’d already exposed himself too much to the humans.
“I’ll call the police and the doctor. What about Hank?”
“Hank?”
Sarah nodded. “Her mother’s boyfriend. The man I’m sure is responsible for this.”
“He is dead.” Sachin wasn’t a hundred percent sure because he’d not taken the time to verify the man was dead, but it would be difficult to survive being thrown into a tree by a supernatural.
“By your hand?” Sarah held no accusation in her voice.
“Yes.”
A faint nod came from her. “Good.”
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New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author Mandy M. Roth is a self-proclaimed Goonie, loves 80s music and movies and wishes leg warmers would come back into fashion. She also thinks the movie The Breakfast Club should be mandatory viewing for...okay, everyone. When she's not dancing around her office to the sounds of the 80s or writing books, she can be found designing book covers for New York publishers, small presses, and indie authors.
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