Darian's POV
She’s heavier than she looks.
I’m still on my knees, her body limp against me, her head tilted awkwardly against my shoulder. Her skin is warm in some places, cold in others, like her body can’t decide if it’s alive or fading.
“Hey—wake up,” I say, my voice tight. “Come on.” I pat her cheek lightly, then harder when she doesn’t respond. Nothing. Her breathing is shallow, barely there, like she’s suspended somewhere between waking and gone.
I press my fingers to her neck, and I find her pulse. It is weak, but steady. A breath escapes me I didn’t realize I was holding.
“You’re alive,” I mutter. “Okay. Good.” I slide my hand to her forehead, checking for fever. It’s cold. Too cold. Like she’s been lying here for hours instead of seconds.
“Damn it.” The curse leaves my mou
