Chapter 104

HE WAS propped on his hands and knees when the black receded, head hanging, lungs wrenching and gasping, and vaguely glad he hadn't ended up in a helpless heap. There were far too many hands plucking at him, far too many voices nattering concern.

One set of hands was rougher than the others, clutching and almost shoving, where the others were just shaking lightly, almost petting. One voice was angrier than the others, frantically growling and demanding, where the others were low and worried.

"Dallin!" A sharp shake and a near snarl. "Dallin Brayden!" A smack this time, right to Dallin's ribs. It smarted good, but if Dallin had even an ounce of air in his lungs, he would've snorted. "You son of a bitch, you promised, you *swore*, I trusted you, you said--"

"I *said* not to hold it back and to"--Dallin had to pause to catch his breath--"and to do it *quick*."