Binding Fire: Paranormal Romance (Bad Boys of the Underworld Book 3) by Mallory Crowe Page B
Authors: Mallory Crowe
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hung up on the demon thing. Muriel opened her mouth to speak, but Kier knew that the pressure on her lungs hurt. “You just crashed her car and shot at her two dozen times, you idiot. Did you ever stop to think that the problem might be you?”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed and he gripped his gun tighter, though he didn’t raise it. “I’m bound to him, Samuel,” said Muriel. “Whatever happens to him, happens to me.”
“God damn it!” Apparently Samuel was only now concerned with the three bullet wounds that gushed blood from Kier’s torso and leg.
“Now he gets it. Fucking moron,” muttered Kier, earning him a soft punch on the arm from Muriel that hurt him much less than the pain they both felt from her moving her arm. “I’m worried about those ribs,” said Kier in a tone low enough that only she could hear.
“I would be more worried about convincing Samuel not to kill you. Play nice,” she warned.
Kier looked over to GI Joe. Fat chance of that ever happening.
CHAPTER TEN
Suffering from three bullet wounds and a couple broken ribs in the middle of nowhere would’ve been preferable to the hell that Muriel was currently in the middle of.
She was the only thing keeping Samuel and Kier from murdering each other, and she was already tired enough from her wounds. Playing referee to their bickering was positively exhausting.
After Muriel convinced Samuel that Kier couldn’t be hurt without suffering the pain herself, he called off his men—well, two men and one woman—and quickly helped Muriel into the police cruiser to get medical attention.
The ride had been full of quiet tension. Muriel didn’t know the people with Samuel and did not want her secrets out in the open. She promised him that she would tell him everything as soon as they were alone.
Samuel spent most of the ride on the phone trying to locate a doctor used to the ways of the supernatural. One who wouldn’t run screaming when they saw Kier’s rapidly healing wounds and the handcuffs that caused Muriel to share his injuries.
She knew that he also shared the constant ache in her chest. Because it hurt her to talk or take deep breaths, Kier answered all the questions directed at her, usually with sarcastic or rude comments. He wasn’t winning over any friends.
Samuel led them through an abandoned office building until they reached what used to be a break room. Muriel hadn’t been paying attention to the road, so she had no idea where they were. They had driven about an hour. They were probably still in Texas, but pretty close to the New Mexico border.
Once inside the makeshift doctor’s office, Muriel saw a fit, middle-aged man waiting for them. Judging by his bag of equipment and stethoscope around his neck, he was the doctor. Muriel had never been to the doctor in the five years she’d been living among humanity, but she was pretty sure that most of them didn’t wear leather chaps and steel-toed boots.
She would have protested him treating her, but it hurt to speak, so she figured beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Kier was no beggar, though. “Does this guy even have a medical license? We can just take our chances at the hospital.”
His leg was better but it still hurt to walk on. Making it worse, Muriel leaned on him more than she would’ve liked and the added weight put pressure on his wounds. Even so, that pressure was still less than the ache in her chest.
“Well, you should have thought about the possibility of her getting injured when you bound her to you,” snapped Samuel.
It was just Kier, Samuel, the biker doctor, and her in the room, so Samuel was not holding himself back anymore. “I swear to God, the second I get those cuffs off her, your head is going to be rolling on the ground at my feet.”
Muriel felt the blood rush from her face at the thought. “It’s me who did it. Not him,” she defended weakly.
“Damn it, Muriel. How hard is it to not talk?” said Kier in response to the shot of
Samuel’s eyes narrowed and he gripped his gun tighter, though he didn’t raise it. “I’m bound to him, Samuel,” said Muriel. “Whatever happens to him, happens to me.”
“God damn it!” Apparently Samuel was only now concerned with the three bullet wounds that gushed blood from Kier’s torso and leg.
“Now he gets it. Fucking moron,” muttered Kier, earning him a soft punch on the arm from Muriel that hurt him much less than the pain they both felt from her moving her arm. “I’m worried about those ribs,” said Kier in a tone low enough that only she could hear.
“I would be more worried about convincing Samuel not to kill you. Play nice,” she warned.
Kier looked over to GI Joe. Fat chance of that ever happening.
CHAPTER TEN
Suffering from three bullet wounds and a couple broken ribs in the middle of nowhere would’ve been preferable to the hell that Muriel was currently in the middle of.
She was the only thing keeping Samuel and Kier from murdering each other, and she was already tired enough from her wounds. Playing referee to their bickering was positively exhausting.
After Muriel convinced Samuel that Kier couldn’t be hurt without suffering the pain herself, he called off his men—well, two men and one woman—and quickly helped Muriel into the police cruiser to get medical attention.
The ride had been full of quiet tension. Muriel didn’t know the people with Samuel and did not want her secrets out in the open. She promised him that she would tell him everything as soon as they were alone.
Samuel spent most of the ride on the phone trying to locate a doctor used to the ways of the supernatural. One who wouldn’t run screaming when they saw Kier’s rapidly healing wounds and the handcuffs that caused Muriel to share his injuries.
She knew that he also shared the constant ache in her chest. Because it hurt her to talk or take deep breaths, Kier answered all the questions directed at her, usually with sarcastic or rude comments. He wasn’t winning over any friends.
Samuel led them through an abandoned office building until they reached what used to be a break room. Muriel hadn’t been paying attention to the road, so she had no idea where they were. They had driven about an hour. They were probably still in Texas, but pretty close to the New Mexico border.
Once inside the makeshift doctor’s office, Muriel saw a fit, middle-aged man waiting for them. Judging by his bag of equipment and stethoscope around his neck, he was the doctor. Muriel had never been to the doctor in the five years she’d been living among humanity, but she was pretty sure that most of them didn’t wear leather chaps and steel-toed boots.
She would have protested him treating her, but it hurt to speak, so she figured beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Kier was no beggar, though. “Does this guy even have a medical license? We can just take our chances at the hospital.”
His leg was better but it still hurt to walk on. Making it worse, Muriel leaned on him more than she would’ve liked and the added weight put pressure on his wounds. Even so, that pressure was still less than the ache in her chest.
“Well, you should have thought about the possibility of her getting injured when you bound her to you,” snapped Samuel.
It was just Kier, Samuel, the biker doctor, and her in the room, so Samuel was not holding himself back anymore. “I swear to God, the second I get those cuffs off her, your head is going to be rolling on the ground at my feet.”
Muriel felt the blood rush from her face at the thought. “It’s me who did it. Not him,” she defended weakly.
“Damn it, Muriel. How hard is it to not talk?” said Kier in response to the shot of
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