Chapter 25

Helena

The sharp scentof antiseptic assaults my nostrils, jolting me awake. I gasp in pain as the pungent odor invades my senses. Where am I?

Blinking my sticky eyes open, I find myself not in the DeLux office, but in a dimly lit private hospital room. An IV trails from my heavily bandaged arm to a dripping bag of clear fluid. Monitoring equipment emits rhythmic beeps in time with my racing pulse.

Fragmented memories flood back in a dizzying rush—the bookkeeping investigation, lurking assailants at the empty club, a vicious brawl I only barely survived...

I try sitting up, but blinding fire sears my every nerve. My agonized cry brings a nurse rushing in, her eyes wide at finding me awake. “Don’t try to move, dear!” she warns me. “You have extensive injuries.”

She checks my vitals and dosage while I drift, her words washing over me indistinctly. My battered thoughts stall on how I even got here. The last coherent scrap was passing out in that alley after... after what? That blur of violence still eludes me.

The nurse says something about getting the doctor for an examination and sweeps out. My heavy eyelids droop, too weak to resist the cloying pull of the pain medication. But just as I’m about to slip under again, a beloved voice speaking my name jolts me back from the brink.

“Welcome back, sweetheart...”

I catch a whiff of his soothing cologne, his presence immediately allaying my hurting body.

“Raphael...?” I rasp, my voice foreign to my ears. A tender hand brushes the hair from my forehead and I force my eyelids open to find him hovering over me, maroon eyes alight with grief.

“Hush now, save your strength.” Raphael’s warm tone wraps comfortingly around me, despite the ragged edge of fear beneath. His thumb carefully traces my uninjured cheek.

I try forming the flood of questions simmering in my addled brain. How did he find me? Does he know what happened? But speaking takes more energy than I can summon.

Raphael seems to read the unvoiced queries in my eyes. “You’re safe now, Helena.” His voice hitches before steadying. “Rest and heal.”

My eyes drift shut again against my will. But my heart unclenches its panicked grip, soothed by Raphael’s strong presence. However long my recovery takes, facing it no longer seems so daunting with my guardian archangel beside me.

Soon after, voices rouse me briefly as Raphael confers with the doctors in somber tones just outside my room. Though I only grasp snatches of the conversation through the drug haze, the gravity comes across clearly. My injuries are severe.

Raphael slips back inside, reclaiming his place at my bedside with a strained smile. “My brother Michael is a brilliant doctor. He patched you up. He suspects your demon constitution will quicken the healing process,” he says, tone artificially bright. “You’ll be up tormenting me again in no time.” A sad smile.

But his face belies the light words. Jaw clenched, Raphael is barely holding back a maelstrom. My sluggish thoughts whirl, trying to comprehend why he looks so devastated. My wounds will mend, but his agony seems rooted deeper.

When I frown up at him in mute question, Raphael squeezes my hand fiercely. “Baby, I should have been there to protect you,” he chokes out, eyes watering. “This never should have—” His voice cracks and he looks away quickly, mastering himself.

Oh, my love. My heart twists, understanding now the source of his inner tempest. Raphael blames himself for my injuries, though he had no way of preventing this evil.

I ache to comfort him, wipe that haunted grief from his beloved features. But darkness already creeps back in, dragging me down into its numbing tides. I cling desperately to awareness a moment longer, just enough to clumsily brush my fingers across his wrist.

Raphael squeezes my hand in return, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Rest, my devious starfire,” he murmurs brokenly. “I’m not going anywhere now.”

Reassured, I let the black waves take me under, anchored in place by my archangel’s steadfast presence.