Page 190 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

He’d summoned a witch who practised traditional magic, hoping for answers.

“Pray she dies,” the witch had said, “because you don’t know what will be left of her if she does wake.”

Mikhail had clenched his fist around her throat, ready to tear her head from her shoulders. Fortunately, Constantine had been around and stopped him.

Next, he’d called upon a vampire who specialised in alternative healing methods – practices Mikhail had mocked for years. She had taken one look at Amelia and said, “She’s suffering of a broken heart.”

Mikhail had thrown her out, convinced she was a fraud.

Now, he ran his fingers across Amelia’s forehead, the chill of her skin making him shiver in fear that she had passed. Then, her chest still rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the sight also calmed his breathing.

He didn’t know what she was to him, nor what he was to her. Nor whether they could ever be anything to each other after all they had endured.

But he would pray for her.

He would exchange his most prized possession for her.

He would shed blood for her.

Though he hadn’t told her that.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.”

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