Page 88 of Stroke of Shadows

Sythe dropped to his knees before her.

“How far did he get?” he asked, his tone so low it was animalistic. It held an unusual growl, and for some reason, it calmed her. “Did he…” Sythe swallowed, unable to finish.

She wanted to reach out to his face, the rage beneath his eyes vicious. “You… you came.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, either.

“Of course I did, Starlight. I’ll always come for you.”

“You could’ve been hurt.” Hiccups assaulted her throat, each word raw.

“Hurt?” His rage seemed to burn brighter. “You’re worried about me right now?”

She didn’t stop him as he picked her up in his arms, the sheet trapped between them. Instead of placing her on the bed, he tucked them into the corner of the room, Ivan out of sight. Settling her on his lap, she rested her head against his chest, a strange noise, much like a purr gently vibrating against her ear.

“Breathe with me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She tried to relax, allowing his strength to wrap around her when the tell-tale prickling at the end of her fingertips took her choice away from her.

“Come on, just in and out.” His hand rubbed against her back. “Follow my breathing.”

She was thankful she was already in Sythe’s arms, because there was only a second warning before her muscles sagged, leaving her locked in her own body.

“Fuck, I’ve got you, Starlight.” His words were muffled, as if underwater. “I’ll always have you.”

She would have sworn his arms tightened around her, his tattoos lighting up to dance against his skin. But before she could give the idea much thought, the prickling shot through her body, nerve endings firing with a surge of agony. Her cries of pain were inaudible, and when the pain finally relented, she welcomed the darkness that took her under.

Chapter 31

Sythe

Sythe eyed the faerie with pastel pink hair warily. She seemed just as suspicious, her light brown eyes with bronze flecks flicking to him every few seconds.

“You didn’t say you were bringing your boyfriend,” she said before sipping on her milkshake.

“He’s not my…” Harper blushed, which only brought out the bruise blossoming on her cheek. “Thea, do you have it?”

“Oh, you mean the golden cup of death? Of course.” Thea slurped more of her drink before pushing it to the side. “But there’s the awkward conversation of the money.”

Harper shuffled beside him, placing a black velvet bag on the table. The lid opened, revealing the black opal coins favoured amongst the Undercity. Four pixies, a unicorn as well as a handful of imps. Sythe guessed around ten grand.

“Why the fuck are you asking for so much?” he asked, pulling the money back towards him when Thea went to grab it.

Her eyes burned when they met his, a spark of wild magic teasing his senses. “You’re not my client.” Thea wasn’t particularly strong with her magic, but she projected enough to act as a warning. Unusual amongst the Fae, who rarely were able to control their powers in such a way. Either that or she was leaking.

“No,” Sythe grumbled. “But my mate is.”

Happiness swelled in a form of a pleased growl through his mind before he realised what he’d said.

Fuck.

“I mean, my friend,” he quickly corrected, but Thea had already heard. Luckily, the terminology was lost on Harper, who’d placed her hand against his arm. Sythe pressed into her touch, feeling the tattoos beneath his shirt glowing.

Yep. He was totally fucked.

Something passed between them, an electrical pulse that started from the centre of his chest and swelled with warmth. Her smile was weak, dark smudges beneath her eyes that were a visible reminder of her continued recovery from last night’s episode. Hours she’d been limp in his arms, Sythe unable to sleep until she’d recovered enough to speak. And even then he’d watched over her, counting every breath as if it were her last.

It was only the second time he’d seen her collapse, and already it was worse than before. She was sick, and he didn’t know how to help.

Thea swung her gaze between them before settling on him. “Does she even know?”

---