Chapter 111

Jim’s eyes were clear, almost completely free from the haze of alcohol, and they stared certainly and dry despite the tears staining Jim’s cheeks. “Nathan, are you sure?” Jim said again, glancing around Nathan and looking at Sasha with pained eyes. He turned back to Nathan just as certain. “It looks bad, I know, but...Nathan…I think he’sbreathing.”

“What…?”

No amount of wanting to escape the truth could keep Nathan from turning back and looking down at Sasha’s still body. He hated to see it, to see incubus Sasha in jeans, a torn T-shirt, and a ruined leather jacket from where the glamours could no longer protect it and wings pushed through the back. Sasha’s shoes had torn open too, his taloned feet sticking out in places and looking squished.

But all those tell-tale signs—the metal sticking out of Sasha’s chest, the faded glamours, the closed eyes, the limp body—meant nothing as Nathan saw just as assuredly as Jim had the slow rise and fall as Sasha breathed.