When he’d jumped between Elise and the bullet, he’d felt it enter his chest and known his time was up. Odd, though. He hadn’t expected it to be cold in the Summerlands. And whatever he was lying on was hard as well. No green, grassy meadow here. “Wake up, Daddy. Please wake up.” A soft, small hand stroked his brow. Now that was more like it. Daddy? His eyes flew open—or they would have if they hadn’t been glued shut. He kept trying and eventually they cracked open, letting in a dim, murky light. He rubbed his eyes and saw a mix of dried blood and grime on his hands. That was what his eyes had been caked with. Lovely. A small pale face with bright green eyes looked down into his own and smiled, though it too was streaked with dirt. “Finally. You took a long time to wake up.” “Adina?” What the sodding hell was going on? “Of course. Silly Daddy. Who else would it be?” She patted his cheek with one small hand, which was, to his horror, covered in sticky half-dried blood.
