Demon Huntress

Tiny pinpricks of pain spread through her right arm, one of the familiar sensations that preceded a loss of function. She winced, and Chen smoothed a palm over her belly, but she shook her head. "Not the wound. It's my arm. Right one."

Frowning, he reached across her body to her shoulder, which had gone numb. "Make a fist."

She tried. "I can't."

"Has this happened before?" When she hesitated, he tipped her chin toward him with his other hand.

"Hunter? Answer me."

The command in his voice made her bristle. She did not follow orders given by demons. "I already discussed this with Hellboy. Ask him."

She caught a whiff of something tangy. Whenever some part of her body gave out, her sense of smell grew more acute—a strange response, and one that lent credence to what Ming jie had said about her demon parentage.

Even though she refused to admit it out loud.

"You smell funny."

"It's called irritation," he muttered as he pushed his fingers firmly into her elbow joint. "The problem is your nerves. They've shut down somehow and aren't allowing control to the muscles." His large palm moved slowly upward to her shoulder. "I need you to sit up." She did, and his hand drifted around to her back, then up her neck. It felt good in a way it shouldn't, good enough that she didn't even notice that the rig had pulled to a stop until the back doors opened.

Ming jie stood there, his expression stony, his eyes nearly black and revealing nothing. Her c.h.e.s.t constricted so she could barely breathe, because God, she'd forgotten how beautiful he was in scrubs, the way his broad shoulders filled out the top, how the V-neck revealed tan skin lightly dusted with dark hair. The markings on his muscular arm writhed almost hypnotically, and she nearly sighed at the visual o.r.g.a.s.m it was giving her.

Even all Mr. Grimface, Ming jie was the hottest thing she'd ever seen.

"What happened?"

"Yeah, I missed you, too, Hellboy."

Ming jie pegged her with an exasperated look and grabbed the stretcher. "What did you do now?"

"She got into a fight with a Daeva." They wheeled her into the dark ER, where humanoid and nonhumanoid beings glared at her with unconcealed hatred.

"I wasn't looking for a fight," she protested.

Chen gave her a flat stare, so like Ming jie's. "You just happened to be taking a walk in demon central and got ambushed?"

"Sort of."

"What happened to the Daeva?" Ming jie asked. Silence fell like a guillotine blade as everyone waited for an answer.

Pride made her want to say she'd killed it, but not being suicidal . . . "It got away."

"Uh-huh." He and Chen settled her into a cubicle and closed the curtains to shut out the gawkers.

"Where's yuan?" Chen asked.

"Hunting." Ming jie's deep voice resonated through her with almost the same effect Chen's touch had had on her earlier. She'd forgotten how seductive his voice alone was. "Why did you call us, Shu lan?"

Because my boss ordered me to. Guilt kicked her in the c.h.e.s.t for just a second—until she glanced over at Chen, who looked as if he'd rather kill her than treat her.

"I don't need anyone asking questions about this wound and why it won't heal." That much was true. The thought stung, because she felt herself drawing further and further away from the only family she'd ever known, and if she couldn't count on them, she had nothing left.

"Probably smart," he said, as he pulled on some surgical gloves.

When he finished, he and Chen moved her to a padded table, where she lay still while Chen gripped her wrist and Ming jie probed her wound, which didn't hurt thanks to whatever Chen was doing to her. In fact, Ming jie's fingers on her skin soothed all her aches, except the one that had started to inexplicably blossom between her legs. That one grew worse, and was it her imagination, or had Ming jie started to lose focus?

His long fingers no longer probed her wound, but were instead gliding over the skin of her stomach in long, sensual strokes. Through the thin latex of his glove, she could see his tattoo pulsing, pushing up on the material. His gaze snapped up to hers, glints of gold punching through the brown in his eyes.

"Ming jie!" Chen snapped his fingers in front of Ming jie. He jerked back when Ming jie hissed, the gold in his eyes spreading like spilled paint. "Shit. Ming, man, get it together. Do you need to transfuse?"

For a moment Hellboy stood there, c.h.e.s.t heaving, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"No. I'm fine." His voice was a low, rough rumble as he returned Chen's doubtful look with a hard one of his own. "I'm fine."