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I blinked some more and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Then his lips were on mine, grounding me. The kiss was quick and more of a peck, but it did the trick. The ringing disappeared and I could see again without little black floaty things dancing everywhere.

“Wh-what happened?” I stammered.

“Youhappened,” he said, releasing my shoulders. “Go to Drak. He needs your help.” Then he left me, and I watched, frozen in place as he created a long flaming green sword and one-by-one he went to each of the vampires on the ground and beheaded them with the sword. “Omaera!” Maxar shouted. “Go to Drak!”

“Right!” I unglued my feet from the earth and ran to where Drak was crumpled on the dirt floor, two puncture marks in his neck. I fell to my knees beside him. He was unconscious. “Drak!” I gently patted his cheek. “Drak! Wake up.”

Zandren groaned nearby and pried himself up to all fours, two vampire bodies that had been on top of him lifelessly flopped to the forest floor only for Maxar to approach a moment later and rid them of their heads. Thankfully, the scent of burning flesh and fresh blood got swept away with the dry desert breeze. Otherwise, I probably would have vomited. The big grizzly ambled overto sit beside me, nudging me with his soft snout and moaning.

“I can’t right now, Pooh Bear. I need to help Drak.”

Zandren licked the back of my hand and nudged me again until my hand fell to the puncture marks on Drak’s neck.

“What do you want me to do?” I didn’t understand. Yesterday when Drak was injured he fed from me, taking my blood to heal him. But he was unconscious this time. How could I allow him to feed? Was I supposed to open up my wrist and pour the blood into his mouth?

Maxar approached, snapping his fingers to make the flame-sword disappear. “You need to suck out whatever they injected into him. Probably just a paralytic.”

“Won’t that hurt me?” I asked.

Maxar shrugged. “Maybe, but probably not if you spit it out. It’d need to enter your bloodstream to take effect.”

I pressed my ear over Drak’s heart. The beat was low—alarmingly low. Without anymore hesitation, I pressed my lips to his neck over the puncture marks and sucked like I was trying to give him a hickey. I channeled my inner leach, pulling the poison out. It was acrid on my tongue, and I turned my head and spat it into the dirt, returning to do it again and again until no more poison was left.

I rested my ear over his heart again, already the beat was stronger, faster. I checked his pulse and breathing. All seemed normal. But he was still unconscious.

Patting his cheeks while still on my knees, I swept his hair off his face. “Drak. You need to wake up. This isn’t funny anymore. We need to get to Hell, and we’re not leaving you here. I’m also not dragging you, and I doubt Zandren will let you ride on his back.”

Zandren made a noise of protest to convey as much.

The vampire’s long lashes fluttered, and I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand. “You need to wake up. I’m still mad at you for keeping secrets. I can’t be mad at you if you’re dead.”

The back of my throat burned, and my eyes stung with the threat of tears.Dammit, we did not have time for me to get emotional.

“Let me try,” Maxar said, falling to his knees on the other side of Drak. I thought he was going to do something with fire or flames to rouse the vampire, but he didn’t. He hovered over the centuries-old grump in a suit and kissed him on the lips.

Zandren made a confused bear noise, and I reared back in shock.

But it worked.

Drak’s eyes flared open wide and when he saw whose lips were on his, he scrambled up to his elbows, and shoved the mage off him, glaring icy-blue daggers at a chuckling Maxar.

“It worked to get Omaera out of her stupor after that thunderclap. Figured it might work on Sleeping Beauty here too.” The crazy mage stood up, brushing dirt off his pants. “Wakey wakey, Fangs. We need to get moving.”

My lips twitched, but I suppressed my smile, offering Drak my hand to help him up. To my surprise, he accepted my help, still glowering at the mage like he wanted to use Maxar’s jugular as a straw to drain him of every drop.

Once he composed himself, Drak took stock of the carnage, his face falling as he studied every face on every severed head. He probably knew each of them—had possibly even trained them himself. This couldn’t be easy.

And now we knew that Howar wasn’t on our side.

The betrayal had to be raw and burning inside of Drak. His own family. His own king.

Not to mention the questions that we all had: Why? Why did Howar betray us? Had he been working against us since the very beginning? Did he send Raewyn to the house, expecting her to kill me?

Was he working with Lerris?

Maxar handed me the backpack I dropped, and I slung it back over my shoulders, carefully watching Drak wander from slain vampire to slain vampire, his face a sullen mask, eyes cast down.

I approached him and silently slid my fingers through his, squeezing his hand. “We need to get moving,” I whispered.