Dying Wish: A Novel of the Sentinel Wars Read Free

of her hands, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her off the floor. “We’re going to go see Grace. Then you’ll make the right choice.”
    No. Jackie didn’t want that. She didn’t want to witness any more suffering. She’d had her fill of watching the pain and torture of others.
    She kicked him, landing a solid blow against his shins. He didn’t even grunt. Instead, he tossed her over his shoulder. His bones dug into her stomach, and a wave of nausea crashed into her. She struggled not to puke over his back while she pounded at him with her fists.
    “Put me down!”
    A low, quiet voice came from behind them. “I suggest you do as the lady asks, Torr.”
    Iain. She’d know his voice anywhere. Calm. Steady. It slid over her, allowing a small sense of relief to settle in between the cracks of her panic.
    Torr turned around and eased Jackie’s feet to the floor. Her head spun, and she reached for the wall to steady herself. A hot, strong hand wrapped around her biceps, and she could tell by the vibration inside that touch that it wasn’t Torr’s. It was steadier, stronger, more like the beat of a heart than a frenetic flapping of insect wings.
    She looked up. Iain stared down at her, his face stoic. The warmth of his hand sank through her suit jacket, spreading up her arm and down into her chest. She stood there, too stunned to speak or move, simply staring and soaking up that warmth as if she’d been starved for it.
    His black gaze slid down her body and back up again, as if searching for signs of injury. When he saw none, he looked right into her eyes. The contact was too direct. Too intimate.
    Like the chicken she was, she dropped her line of sight until she was looking at his mouth. His top lip was thin, with a deep delineation at the center, while his bottom lip was full, almost pretty.
    That thought shocked her enough that her gaze lowered to his jaw, which was wide and sturdy, and then down his throat, where she hoped to find nothing intriguing at all. The luceria around his neck shimmered as it vibrated in reaction to her nearness.
    That sight set her straight and reminded her that he was not a man. At least not a human one. None of these men were. Then again, she wasn’t human, either. Or so they said.
    “Are you hurt?” he asked.
    Pride forced her to look him in the eye once more. She was not going to let anyone make her cower, not ever again.
    There wasn’t a single hint of desperation in his expression, and when his gaze met hers, it was blissfully empty of the same frantic hope she’d seen in so many others.
    “I’m fine,” she managed to squeak out.
    Iain nodded and stepped forward, placing his wide body in front of her, so that she was safely out of Torr’s reach. He paused for a second, his powerful body clenching as if in pain. Then he continued on as if nothing had happened. “You can’t do this, Torr.”
    The loss of his touch left her feeling cold and shaky. It was ridiculous, of course, just a trick of her mind or some kind of illusion inflicted upon her by the luceria. At least he hadn’t touched her bare skin. She’d learned that fabric muted the effects of contact with these men, and was never more grateful for long sleeves than she was right now. At least that’s what she told herself, even as her hand covered the spot his had vacated, trying to hold in the heat he’d left behind.
    Torr’s voice came out pained, nearly a sob. “I have to claim her. She can save Grace.”
    “You don’t know that,” said Iain.
    “You don’t know she can’t.”
    Iain’s tone was conversational, without accusation. “This isn’t how we do things. What would Grace say if she saw you throwing a woman around like that? Where is your honor?”
    Torr’s amber eyes filled with tears. “Grace deserves a chance to live.”
    “She made her choice. She saved your life. Don’t cheapen her sacrifice by being an asshole.”
    “I can’t watch her die.”
    “Then don’t,” said Iain,