Page 30 of Blood Caged

They stop short as they see me arrive, faces blanching as they back away.

Motherfuckers!

I’ll rip their hearts out if something happens to her.

But there’s no time now.

I burst through the washroom doors, nearly tearing them off their hinges in my haste. The scene before me is chaos. The witchlies naked and motionless on the cold tile floor, her skin pale and lips tinged blue. The female guard kneels beside her, attempting clumsy chest compressions.

But more alarmingly, crimson hair trails wetly into the water that’s swirling away over the tiles. Water that’s running red.

I shove the guard aside and drop to my knees beside the unconscious woman, checking for a pulse. It’s faint. Thready. But there.

Thank fuck.

“How long has she been like this?” I demand.

The female guard stammers, “I-I don’t know, sir. A few minutes? She was fine, and then she just…collapsed.”

“Just collapsed?” I narrow my eyes, and she shrinks back. I’m pretty sure there’s more to this story than she’s letting on. I curse under my breath, my mind racing. We can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. The thought hits me with surprising force, but I push it aside. There’s no time for introspection now.

“Mia,” I say, not thinking about how easily her name rolls off my tongue. “Mia, can you hear me?”

She doesn’t respond.

By Blood, I’ll have heads for this!

I take her hand, hating how cold and limp it is in mine. I’m not used to being a source of warmth when touching humans, but right now, she’s cooler than I am.

“Mia, if you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. And then I feel it. The tiniest hint of pressure from her fingers.

Thank God!

“Good, that’s good.” Relief floods me. “You’re going to be alright,” I tell her, trying to smooth the damp curls from her face. She’s so pale it’s frightening. Carefully, I slide a hand over her skull, feeling for any injuries. It doesn’t take me long to find it.A deep gash at the back of her head that must be several inches long.

“Fuck.” The first thought that comes to mind is concussion. I slide an arm beneath her shoulders, raising her carefully. “Mia. Look at me.” If she drifts off right now, it’s going to be a problem. “You need to stay awake.”

She makes a sound that’s half groan and half whimper. It goes straight to my chest. Her lashes flutter and I can sense the exertion she’s feeling at opening her eyes. But she does. And when they meet mine, it’s like looking into a forest. My breath catches. Even half-conscious, the spark within them is unmistakable.

“Sir, I—” the guard behind me starts.

“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl without looking back at her. “You will answer for this when I am ready.”

She makes a choking sound. Boots scuffle on tiles as she backs away. I don’t bother watching her leave. My attention is on Mia.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell her. “I want you to focus on me. Can you do that?”

Her lips move, but no sound comes out. She gives a tiny nod, then her expression tightens as pain flickers in her eyes.

I gently lift Mia into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She’s light, too light, and I can feel her shivering. Without a second thought, I use my vampire speed to rush her to my quarters, my surroundings blurring as I move.

Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I stride to the large leather couch in the living area and carefully lay her down. As I step back, the full extent of her condition hits me.

“What the fuck have they done to you?” I mutter, taking in the sight of her.

Her skin is ashen, almost translucent, and her breathing is shallow and labored. The gash on her head is still bleeding, but it’s clear that’s not the only source of her blood loss. She’s beensystematically drained, day after day, and the toll on her body is horrifyingly apparent. She’s fading away.

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