Lords of the Underworld Glossary of Characters and Terms
“DON’T DIE . Don’t you dare die.” Frantic, Torin dug through a backpack crammed with clothing, weapons and medical supplies. He’d packed it days ago, blindly filling it with everything he’d thought he might need. There was no mouth guard. Fine. He’d proceed without one.
He hurried to his companion’s motionless form, straddled her waist. Her precious life slipped away with every second that passed. CPR was a last resort, but suddenly her only hope, and because they were locked inside a dungeon, no one else inside their cell, the responsibility belonged to him alone. The guy who’d rarely ever come this close to another person.
Just call me Wonder Doc.
He flattened his gloved hands over Mari’s delicate chest—still, too still. But rather than proceed as he should have, he found himself pausing to savor the rare and extraordinary connection with the opposite sex. So soft. So luscious.
What the hell am I doing? Jaw clenched, he pushed.
Crack.
Too hard. He’d just broken her sternum and probably several of her ribs.
Guilt pierced straight through his heart, and if the organ hadn’t already been shredded beyond repair, it might have hurt. Sweat trickled down his temples as he pressed against Mari’s chest more gently. Nothing else broke. Good. Okay. He pressed again and again, gradually increasing his speed. But how fast was too fast? What helped? What damaged?
“Come on, Mari.” She was human, but strong. Fragile, but resilient. “Stay with me. You can survive this, I know you can.”
Her head lolled to the side, her glassy eyes staring out at nothing.
“No. No!” He checked her for a pulse, waited...but never felt even the weakest of beats.
As he returned his hands to her chest to start over, his gaze locked on her blood-splattered lips; his mind willed them to part, a cough to escape. It would mean the sickness still plagued her, but sick was better than dead any day of the week.
“Mari, please.” He heard the desperation in his voice, didn’t care. I can’t be the one to kill someone so sweet.
Torin pushed harder, heard another crack.
Hell. He wasn’t some pansy crier, but damn if tears didn’t scald the backs of his eyes.
He’d come to think of this girl as a friend, and despite the numerous centuries he’d lived, he didn’t have many of those. He always protected the ones he had.
Until her.
If not for him, she never would have sickened in the first place.
Again he felt for a pulse. Still no beat.
Cursing, he set back to work. Five minutes...ten...twenty. He was Mari’s life support, the only thing standing between her and death; he would do this however long proved necessary.
Pull through, Mari. You have to pull through.
“Fight this!” But as another eternity elapsed without any change in her, he finally admitted his efforts weren’t doing any good. She was already gone.
Already dead.
And there was nothing he could do to bring her back.
With a roar, Torin wrenched away and paced the cell like the caged animal he was. His arms shook. His back and thighs ached. But what was physical pain compared to mental? Emotional? This was his fault. He’d known what would happen if ever he touched the girl, and he’d lured her closer anyway.
Monster! With another roar, he punched the wall, enjoying the unrelenting throb of pain as skin split and bones fractured. He punched again and again, cracks appearing in the stone, dust pluming around him.
If he had just stopped to question why a girl like Mari would be so starved for companionship she would agree to be with him she would still be alive.
He pressed his forehead against the battered wall. I’m keeper of the demon of Disease. When will I accept the fact that I’m meant to fly solo?
To be forever denied what I crave most.
“Mari, darling,” a slightly accented voice rang out. Female...delicious—even soaked in panic and pain as it was. “The bond is broken. Why is it broken?”
The blood in Torin’s veins turned into fuel, igniting as if a blazing match had just been thrown inside him. He became increasingly aware of his own heartbeat, speeding up, the need to stalk to the cell’s door and rip away every metal bar consuming him; anything to erase the distance between him and the speaker.
An