Page 8 of The Demon’s Due (Bedeviled #5)

It was hard to tell if Darsh was right and Ezra wanted to see me because my boyfriend’s closed lids didn’t convey a ton of emotion.

Much easier to decipher? The sickly gray undertone to his brown skin that matched the long-sleeved sweatshirt with a Maccabee logo he’d been put in.

But hey, his sunken eye sockets and a third less muscle mass really popped against that neutral palette.

My heart clenched, then soared with a fierce joy.

He was alive, and I could finally reach out and touch him.

I smiled but my fingertips trembled as they hovered over his cheek, afraid that even the gentlest contact might cause him pain.

This powerful man, this Prime who had always seemed indestructible, now looked so fragile I was afraid he might shatter.

Still, he was here. We both had made it out alive.

I tucked his foot back under a blanket that I’d last seen on my bed. He had my pillow as well. I could almost be convinced that my Prime was tuckered out and had settled in for a catnap on the sofa.

In the director’s office.

While hooked to an IV slowly dropping blood into him.

“How is this ‘Ezra is safe’?” I said. “If you wanted me to believe that bullshit, you shouldn’t have healed my concussion.”

Michael felt his forehead. “His fever is gone. I pulled strings and brought in the best healer the Maccabees have.”

“There’s paperwork that Ezra is compromised?” I dragged a chair up to his bedside on legs gone rubbery from a burst of fear. The Authority was coming for him. They’d never miss a chance like this.

Michael actually glared at me. “I obviously lied. I said it was for Sachie and made Magdalena sign an NDA when she got here. The point is, Ezra stabilized in a magic coma is the best she could do. Silas told us shedim magic was responsible. I could have asked Delacroix?—”

“No way!” I moved the IV tube so it didn’t kink when I took Ezra’s hand.

“Which is why I waited until you returned to brainstorm how to get Ezra’s innate healing magic to kick in.”

Returned. Like I’d been at the grocery store for milk. It was probably easier for Michael to think of it that way. It would be for me if our positions had been reversed.

I bowed my head and stroked my boyfriend’s hand. I’d had a power word with healing magic beyond comprehension. And I’d spoken it into the air like it was nothing. Just another breath.

Then I remembered what it did to Alastair. Which might have been because of the ritual, but still. There was no point regretting or second-guessing now.

“I appreciate you bringing my blanket and pillow for him,” I said.

“He’d want to come back to you. It was worth a try enveloping him in your scent.”

Ezra spoke in a rasped whisper.

I jumped, leaning close. “I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m here now.”

Michael laid her hand on my shoulder. “He does that sometimes. His vitals don’t change when it happens.”

Ezra spoke again.

“It’s Spanish,” I said. “Has anyone translated? I think Silas speaks it.”

“He does, but it’s fragments. Ezra’s quoted books, even described a rock-climbing hold and several knitting stitches. But now you can talk to him.”

“How did you find him?”

“When I couldn’t get hold of you, I called Ezra, but it went to voice mail.”

“Our phones were in my car.”

“I gave it an hour, but when neither of you checked in, I sent Silas back to the gallery. You weren’t…

” She cleared her throat. “You’re back now, and we will find a way to wake Ezra up.

Stay as long as you like. Louis has orders not to let anyone in.

He won’t share that Ezra is here, and other than your friends and Magdalena, no one else knows.

I’ve got my laptop in Conference Room C and am working from there.

It’s my new effort to be ‘more accessible’ to my staff. ” She gave a wry smile.

“Thank you,” I said, but the door was already closing behind her.

The first thing I did was kiss Ezra on the lips. It didn’t work because he wasn’t Prince Charming, much less Sleeping Beauty, but I had to try.

“You need to wake up, Zee, because this is going to put a real crimp in our sex life.”

Nothing. Not even an eyelid flutter.

I watched blood droplets roll down the tube. This nourishment wasn’t helping him. Because it wasn’t my blood? I’d tried to get him to feed from me when this first happened at the gallery, but he hadn’t manifested fangs. Or even reacted to my presence.

Would it work if I put my blood in an IV bag? I plumped the pillow behind his head and forced myself to be realistic. He was my boyfriend, but we didn’t have some magical connection where my blood would…

I blinked. Ezra and I didn’t have a magical connection yet, but we could.

A blood bond.

I had no idea how to create one, but I’d bet anything that Darsh or Silas would.

I phoned them to come to Michael’s office, then told them my idea in a hushed voice, the three of us grouped over by the window.

“Blood bonds are sacred,” Darsh said. “This gives it the emotional weight of an aspirin.”

“Look at him,” I said, my voice quivering. “He’s clearly not well! I have to do something!”

Darsh glanced at Ezra then sat on Michael’s desk, touching each of the pens in her fancy cup holder in turn.

“You have three options. One: jumpstart him with a blood bond.” He grimaced.

“Setting aside how precious they are and how one should never be performed without both parties really desiring it?—”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

“Those bonds are permanent.” He wandered over to the sofa and crossed Ezra’s arms over his chest, like a cartoon vamp’s. “You sure it’s worth the risk?”

Silas hip-checked him out of the way and placed Ezra’s arms back at his sides. “You want to rephrase that insultin’ question about my best friend and our darling Aviva?”

“She heard me.”

The ongoing level of bite in their communication confused me. Silas had played a role, albeit unknowingly, in the death of Darsh’s brother years ago, but I’d seen them make up.

It’s only been a few days , Cherry pointed out.

True. Even though I swear I’d aged years. It was na?ve to believe their road to happiness would be easy.

That didn’t mean Darsh could insult my relationship.

I planted my hands on my hips. “Ezra is worth the risk.”

“I didn’t mean to you , puiul meu.”

“Because I’m an infernal?” I huffed.

Silas glared at Darsh.

He ran a hand through his hair with a dramatic sigh. “Let a girl speak. Ezra is in this condition because of shedim magic. Is adding more, i.e. yours , going to help?”

I sat down hard.

“Well, damn,” Silas said.

Darsh flipped his hair off his shoulders. “I’m more than a pretty face.”

“Aw. Bless your heart.”

Darsh blinked at Silas then a surprised laugh burst out of him.

Silas gave a small smile.

I snapped my fingers. “Back to me. What do I do? The only one with any possible answers is Delacroix and?—”

“Absolutely not,” Silas said at the same time that Darsh said, “Hard pass.”

I stroked Ezra’s forehead. “I can’t leave him like this and just chance he’ll get better.”

“Right? Michael’ll want her couch back.” Darsh tapped the IV bag to get the last few drops of blood down the tube. “Then where do we store him?”

“He’s not a box of Christmas decorations, you ass,” I said.

“No,” he said sadly. “Ever since you got sucked into the hostage dimension, there’s been a distinct lack of sparkle with that boy.”

“Go back to being a pretty face, Darsh.” Silas brought his hands together, pleading.

“What are my other options?” I said.

“You wait for his innate healing magic to kick in,” Darsh said. “Which could take hours to never. Three, let healers keep working on him. Same disclaimer as option two.”

“Plus, who’s to say that the magic coma will hold?” I scrubbed a hand over my face.

Silas cleared his throat. “There’s a fourth option. A thrall.”

“That sounds sexy.” I waggled my eyebrows.

“It’s not,” Darsh said flatly.

“It boosts Ezra in a similar way as a blood bond, but it’s not permanent,” Silas said. “He has to keep feeding from you to maintain it.”

“It’s a terrible option,” Darsh said. “He’s only suggesting it because he wants his best friend to get better. I understand that, but?—”

“I’m suggesting it,” Silas said in a voice of steel, “because Aviva deserves to know all the options and make decisions for herself.”

“How long would this thrall last?” I said.

“Two to three days? Tops?” Silas looked at Darsh, who reluctantly nodded.

“Then if adding my magic to Ezra’s makes his condition worse, at least it’s only a short-term thing.”

“A thrall is also a risk for you, Avi,” Silas continued. “You’d be a giant battery for him.”

“That’s the entire point. For me to boost his ability to wake up.”

“Any sense of equality in your relationship?” Darsh snapped his fingers. “Gone.”

Silas’s jaw hardened.

“But I initiate it,” I said.

“Yes,” Darsh said, “but creating a thrall doesn’t give you control. You’re putting yourself in the position of being enthralled . Being reduced to an object or a resource versus being an equal partner to Ezra.”

Put like that, it sounded less than ideal.

Ezra whimpered something in Spanish.

His pained voice was the cue for my treacherous brain to replay Daphne’s last horrific moments, but with Ezra in the starring role.

I laid my hand on his forehead, murmuring that I was here. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this, a half-life version of himself, trapped and suffering.

The worst part was knowing exactly what he’d say about this idea.

Something insufferably noble about how my magic was too precious to waste on him.

That there was as much of a risk to me with being enthralled to a Prime as there was to him with my shedim magic.

And if I insisted on being stubborn and going ahead despite that, then I should take a moment and think about what it would mean for my career if it got out that I was feeding him on the regular.

All excellent points, but I couldn’t leave him imprisoned in his own mind. Not with all the darkness that lived in there.

Not when I was determined to illuminate every shadowy sad corner with happiness.

I crossed my arms. “Ezra is one of the most vital people I know, and now he’s out cold. Rukshana’s magic is frying his engine or clogging his oil tank?—”

Darsh heaved an exaggerated sigh. “That man is not a race car and you’re definitely not a mechanic.”

“Continuing with my brilliant metaphor, if me being a battery jump-starts him and he opens his eyes?” I stroked my boyfriend’s hand. “Then yes, it’s worth it. I’m going to thrall with Ezra.”

“It’s not a verb,” Darsh growled.

I arched an eyebrow. “I won a power word that eluded supplicants for a century and survived the Brink imploding. Pretty sure I can turn ‘thrall’ into whatever the hell part of speech I feel like. Now, which of you is going to tell me how to do it?”