Page 67

Chapter

Forty-Five

TATE

I come face-to-face with Darren Blackstone. I close the door behind me, using the moment to get a protective shield in place.

“Is Summer here?” he asks, and I have to give it to him that even in all this, he uses the right name without pause.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes flare. “I know you left together.”

“Whoever told you that?”

“Now listen to me, you little shit, you will open this door right now, or your career is over,” he threatens, his voice cool and calm. I shrug.

“If you want through that door, you’ll have to get through me first.”

“Gladly. Do you want to die quick or painful?” The way he looks at me tells me he means it.

The door behind me opens, and Jared sends me a frustrated glare as soon as he realizes I’ve trapped him behind my shield. Blackstone looks even angrier when he notices it, too.

“You will let me to her right now, or gods help me, I will rip you apart with my bare hands,” he growls.

“Only if you promise you won’t take her to the healers,” I tell him. “Otherwise, I will fight you.”

This takes him by surprise, and his mouth opens slightly.

“You know?” So Ara lied when she said she never told anyone before.

Jealousy burns through me. Blackstone is a good-looking man, with his intimidating physique, dark hair, and blue eyes, but he’s surely ten years older than her.

If he used his position to get his fingers on her… I will destroy him.

“You know?” I echo his words.

“Clearly, I don’t know,” Jared pipes up from behind me. “Gods, Tate, can we discuss this inside before someone else comes along and demands to know, too?”

Blackstone and I stare at each other until I give a small nod and take the shielding off the door. Blackstone rushes past me and through the door, falling to his knees next to Ara’s lifeless figure.

He pulls her into his arms, and Jared clasps a hand on my shoulder to hold me back.

“No.” Blackstone’s voice sounds choked. He buries his face in her hair. “Little sparrow, don’t you dare die on me.” He pulls back and strokes her face with such tenderness that I think I’m going to burst. He loves her. My heart twists.

“Is she your lover or something?” Jared asks the question burning through me.

Blackstone’s head snaps around, and he sends Jared a glare.

“She is my sister, you sick fuck.”

Holy mists, his sister?

Jared’s stunned expression tells me he didn’t expect that either.

After that outburst, the tension in the room lessens noticeably, and for the first time since I brought her here, a flicker of hope lights my chest.

I explain my plan of healing her as soon as she wakes up, and it takes some convincing, but finally, Blackstone agrees to leave her in my care.

“I’ll keep everyone off your back, but you will get me as soon as she wakes up,” Blackstone demands, then explains where to find him. I gladly agree. He’s visibly torn about leaving but then straightens. His face relaxes, and I would never have guessed he cares at all.

“Impressive,” Jared comments while Darren Blackstone leaves and closes the door behind him. “And here I thought you were an anomaly.”

I only grunt at that, settling back against my desk, watching Ara.

She has to wake up.

Ara

Everything hurts, but that means I’m still alive, right?

I notice the scent—Tate. I relax. I’m safe.

Steps move from next to my head to my feet and back again. He paces. Whatever got me here has to be bad.

I strain my brain for information, but I only remember talking to my brother. No, that can’t be right… Why would I be with Tate if I had been talking to my brother? There are other memories, snippets: a forest, a snake, fighting, panic, a man sneering at me.

And there is another scent, much fainter than Tate’s and less pleasant—the fire at the mountain, smoke. But that was weeks ago. Why am I smelling smoke now?

Concern floods me, but it’s not my own; it’s someone else’s.

“You’ll be alright,” a voice reassures me in my mind.

In my mind?

My eyes fly open with a startled gasp, but I close them again when the room dances above me. My head pounds, and I’m queasy.

I try again, and this time, Tate is leaning over me, but his face is double, and the versions swim into each other, making the nausea even worse.

My whole body hurts so bad.

I don’t want to sit up, but I’m afraid I will be sick any minute, so I try only to fall back, whimpering.

“Don’t move, sunshine.” Tate’s voice is soothing but worried. “You did take quite a fall, and I don’t even know what you went through before that.”

Fall? Have I fainted or something? Gods, I hope not.

“Fall?” My voice is a croak, my throat parched.

What the heck did I do?

“You don’t remember?” His voice is grim.

I start to shake my head, but that makes my nausea and pain even worse, so I stop.

“Can I start healing you? Please, just a bit?” he asks.

“Okay.” Damn, my voice does sound bad, all hoarse and raspy, and speaking hurts. “Could you start with my head?” I really would prefer to get out of this without throwing up at his feet.

“Yeah, that is a great idea,” he says, and the mattress dips with his weight, his soft touch settling on my brow seconds later. Glowing golden warmth floods my body in a rush, like he pushes all he's got at me at once.

He’s scared I will fall asleep again.

Because of the sheer might of his magic flooding me, I expect my curse to retaliate with a vengeance, and it does rise, but weakly.

What the fuck happened?

The pounding in my head recedes, and when I open my eyes, it’s without the double vision.

Relief is written all over Tate’s face when my eyes meet his. His magic shifts inside me, trailing over my spine and my organs like it’s searching for injuries.

“It feels like your magic is poking around, searching through me.” It slips along my hurting throat, soothing it. My voice still sounds awful, but the pain is gone.

“You feel that?” He stops, looking at me questioningly.

“Yeah,” I croak. He still looks so haunted that I want to cuddle and comfort him. I start to sit up, grinding my teeth, when my body screams in agony. But at least the world no longer tilts around me.

“What are you doing?” Tate snaps. His hands land on my shoulders, pushing me softly back down, but he snatches his hands away when I wince in pain. Anguish flits across his face, and I growl in frustration.

“I need you to hold me,” I tell him.

“I need to heal you first,” he replies.

“How about you heal me while holding me?” I ask. Tate looks at me, and for a second, I think he’ll refuse, but then he nods with a small smile on his lips.

He gets rid of his boots and discards his weapons before climbing onto the bed next to me, close but not quite touching me. I huff out a breath. That won’t do at all.

I bite my cheek to keep from crying out while I turn until my head rests in the dip below his shoulder, my hand resting on his chest. I sigh, relief washing over me even though my skin hurts wherever my body presses into his.

The tension leaves his body, and I smile to myself.

So it does comfort him to have me close.

His arm, the one I trapped beneath my body, moves slowly, pushing up my shirt until his fingers touch the skin at the small of my back. His other hand cradles my face. His magic slips into me again, and I sigh.

“I think I can get used to being healed like this,” I whisper, and his body rumbles with laughter beneath me.

“Fine with me.” He chuckles. “As long as it’s me healing you.”

“Possessive, are you?” I tease.

“You have no idea,” he answers, his lips brushing over my forehead, his arm pulling me closer. I get lost in the moment, his body and scent wrapped around me, his magic under my skin. I feel safe and cared for like I never have before.

And like always, when I’m close to him, I want him. If it weren’t for my current weakness, I would have pounced.

I must have drifted off to sleep at some point because the next thing I notice is how Tate carefully tries to detangle himself from me. I make a sound of protest, tightening my hold and wrapping my leg over him.

I hear a groan and a chuckle behind me. Tate’s hand caresses my cheek before he tries again.

“Relax, Blackstone, I only healed her.” Tate’s voice is a grumble under my cheek.

“Oh, that is what you call it these days?” Jared’s teasing voice answers.

“Shut up, Jared.” Again, I feel Tate’s voice more than I hear it.

“Kyronos, if you don’t get your hands off my sister right now, I will break your pretty face,” my brother growls.

Wait, what?

The blissful state of half asleep dissipates while I try to make sense of it all. What are Tate, Jared, and Dar doing in one room?

Where am I?

My eyes blink open, and my gaze lands on Tate’s face right above me. His eyes are fixed behind me, though.

I study his face, noticing his ruffled hair, the shadows under his eyes, and a few dark streaks on his cheek and brow. He looks exhausted but beautiful, nonetheless.

My heart squeezes when I remember the haunted look he wore earlier. I stop my perusal of his face at his lips and watch them move, the conversation around me only a buzz in the background.

His lips are so close. I lean in and nibble at his full bottom lip, startling him. He looks down at me, stopping mid-sentence, and I seize the opportunity and push closer, slipping my tongue into his mouth, twirling around his, tasting him.

I groan, or maybe it’s him. Either way, he kisses me back, and I wrap my arm around his neck to pull him closer, angling my head to go deeper.

“Ara.” My name is wielded like a whip, reminding me that we are not alone.

Dammit.

Reluctantly, I pull back, smiling at the dazed expression on Tate’s face. Then I sit up and turn to face my brother.

“What the fuck, Ara?” Dar barks, irritation visible on his face but relief, too. His eyes dart to Tate behind me, promising violence, and I nearly laugh at that. Somehow, Tate doesn’t seem to be the guy easily intimidated by my brother’s antics.