Page 28 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

My threat is still echoing through the clearing when I collapse, my knees giving out like a house with rotted beams. Pain blooms in my chest as the blade, still wedged between my ribs, grinds against bone. The sharp tip nips at my heart, a breath away from piercing the organ.

Lodged in there so long it’s become a scream that lives inside me, raw and ragged, clawing for release.

My jaw hangs crookedly from my skull, the skin of my cheek gone, leaving behind only muscle and ligament. I’m still in half-form, a nightmarish amalgamation of human and beast, my ability to shift to either wolf or human seemingly broken for the moment.

Blood bubbles in my lungs, hot and tasting of copper, before spilling from my mouth and my wounds, forming a puddle beneath me. Every breath is a war, and I’m losing.

You have to get up. This fight isn’t over.

You have to keep Talia safe.

I go to speak, but all that comes out is a gurgling noise.

Through the haze of agony, I at least sense that Talia has come back to herself. She’s returned to me, both to this realm and herself.

For a moment, the bond pulsed so dark I thought I might’ve lost her.

It scared the shit out of me.

I drag myself through pine needles, twigs, and soil, crawling toward her and pushing to all-fours. It’s shaky and I’m gargling foamy blood, but I get there—between her and the advancing vampires.

She’s trembling, the Blood Loom still tight in her grip.

That weapon she summoned out of the air, though, is gone. There’s no trace of the gauzy rope she secured the vampire to a tree with—he’s with the rest of the gang now.

I only killed one and maimed two more and they’ve already mostly regenerated. What a failure.

“Do I take out the sword, or…?” Talia asks in a shaky voice.

“Take…out,” I wheeze, my gaze constantly shifting between the vampires. “Not until… have opening.”

Riven snorts. “An opening. Sure. Think you can dodge us all, little witch?”

Talia’s eyes dart to mine, wide and frantic, and I can see her calculating the number of vampires still able to fight.

And how to remove the sword while keeping them at bay and holding onto the loom.

I don’t have to count to know she can’t do all that herself, which is why I’m about to get my second wind.

Any second now.

“Tal,” I croak, but it’s more a wheeze than a name. “I’m…”

“You’ve lost, it’s over,” Riven says. “We just need the Blood Loom and we’ll be on our way.” Their gaze moves to me. “You want to save her, that’s how to ensure she gets out of this alive.”

Traitorous blue eyes flick to Talia. “It’s how you pull out the sword and save him before he suffers any more damage. How long do you think he can keep regenerating his lungs until there’s not enough breath left in them to keep going?”

At least I know Talia would never give up the loom for me, and I’ll do everything within me to keep my promise to protect it and her at all costs.

“Okay,” she says, actually extending the weapon toward Riven.

“No,” I say. Well, gargle. I try to aim the idea of creating a distraction at her so I can dislodge the blade myself, but I can barely lift my head.

Eyes as green as the surrounding forest zero in on me, enough tenderness filling them that I must look even worse than I feel. “I can’t watch you die.” Her voice cracks at the end, defeat hanging in every line of her body as she stretches her arm that final inch.

Riven snatches the loom from Talia’s fingers, whipping it to their chest with a frantic sort of reverence.

“While I have my mission, I do have a spot for you, Realmweaver. You could come with us. The vampires could offer you protection and freedom… No forced marriage, no repressing who you are or your true power.”

Natalia doesn’t hesitate; she drops to her knees next to me, a hand going to my shoulder,

tears streaking her beautiful face. “Fucking go,” she yells at the vampires.

Surprisingly, they do.

I roar in pain as Talia yanks the sword from my back. It’s agony and then it’s better, but then it’s much, much worse.

My breaths are wet and not right, and I brace my weight on my hands and retch until there’s nothing left.

Hands slick with blood, Talia tosses the heavy sword aside and returns to my side to survey the rest of my injuries.

Hope sparks as a few of my surface-level wounds begin to stitch themselves together. I was too hurt to attempt to heal any part of my body before. With my regenerative powers slowly returning, that means my lungs will stop being lakes of blood, right?

Gradually I’m able to take sips of air until my breaths are no longer liquid or too thick. My chest heaves as I greedily gulp in oxygen, and Talia flings her body over mine, minding my injuries as she hugs me.

I thought she’d shy away from my werewolf side, but she’s buried her face in my fur, and having her arms around me while I lie there and recover takes some of the edge off the pain.

Each panted breath I take is getting more productive by the second, and with the gash from the sword clotting and knitting itself together, remaining alive feels more doable again.

It’s typically easier to regenerate in wolf form, but as I regain use of my limbs, I morph into my human form and roll onto my back so I can keep Talia curled next to me.

We stare up at the stars above, oddly peaceful against the mayhem we’ve just endured. I can’t stop running my hands over Talia to assure myself she’s really okay.

But I know that she’s not, and it’s my fault.

“I failed you,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out through the fire in my chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”