The Darkest Touch. Gena Showalter

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       CHAPTER ONE

      “DON’T DIE . Don’t you dare die.” Frantic, Torin dug through a backpack crammed with clothing, weapons and medical supplies. He’d packed it days ago, blindly filling it with everything he’d thought he might need. There was no mouth guard. Fine. He’d proceed without one.

      He hurried to his companion’s motionless form, straddled her waist. Her precious life slipped away with every second that passed. CPR was a last resort, but suddenly her only hope, and because they were locked inside a dungeon, no one else inside their cell, the responsibility belonged to him alone. The guy who’d rarely ever come this close to another person.

       Just call me Wonder Doc.

      He flattened his gloved hands over Mari’s delicate chest—still, too still. But rather than proceed as he should have, he found himself pausing to savor the rare and extraordinary connection with the opposite sex. So soft. So luscious.

      What the hell am I doing? Jaw clenched, he pushed.

       Crack.

      Too hard. He’d just broken her sternum and probably several of her ribs.

      Guilt pierced straight through his heart, and if the organ hadn’t already been shredded beyond repair, it might have hurt. Sweat trickled down his temples as he pressed against Mari’s chest more gently. Nothing else broke. Good. Okay. He pressed again and again, gradually increasing his speed. But how fast was too fast? What helped? What damaged?

      “Come on, Mari.” She was human, but strong. Fragile, but resilient. “Stay with me. You can survive this, I know you can.”

      Her head lolled to the side, her glassy eyes staring out at nothing.

      “No. No!” He checked her for a pulse, waited...but never felt even the weakest of beats.

      As he returned his hands to her chest to start over, his gaze locked on her blood-splattered lips; his mind willed them to part, a cough to escape. It would mean the sickness still plagued her, but sick was better than dead any day of the week.

      “Mari, please.” He heard the desperation in his voice, didn’t care. I can’t be the one to kill someone so sweet.

      Torin pushed harder, heard another crack.

      Hell. He wasn’t some pansy crier, but damn if tears didn’t scald the backs of his eyes.

      He’d come to think of this girl as a friend, and despite the numerous centuries he’d lived, he didn’t have many of those. He always protected the ones he had.

      Until her.

      If not for him, she never would have sickened in the first place.

      Again he felt for a pulse. Still no beat.

      Cursing, he set back to work. Five minutes...ten...twenty. He was Mari’s life support, the only thing standing between her and death; he would do this however long proved necessary.