Page 112 of Her Blood Revenge

Someone else.

Her familiar pokes her head out from around her neck, and I freeze. I loathe that fucking snake. All snakes, in fact.

Her soulless, beady eyes look at me, and I run cold. Unblinking, I watch her slither to my hand and wrap around my wrist before stopping. Her tongue darts out, and I wait for her to lunge. But she doesn’t. She simply slithers off into the grass and disappears.

I fall back and watch the sky. The canopy above dances in the breeze as the sun sets.

Holy hell.

That was intense.

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a fight as brutal as that. Unseelie. Fire fucking witches.

Neve.

I’ve run miles upon miles at full speed. I smell the blood from my hands and feet.

‘Pix?’ I say quietly, my mouth as dry as anything. ‘Pix. Can you open your eyes for me?’

She’s completely out. That last bit of earth magic was apocalyptic. I’ve never seen that much power come from a single witch. Not once.

It felt different than usual. Older. Archaic. Chaotic.

And the spell Neve cast. It destroyed the entire coven, travelling through the whole village and killing every earth witch it touched. And when Neve knew she would not get Pix from me before the spell was cast, she told me to run. To take her and get her past the village borders, or she would be killed.

Sure, she sent me a welcoming party. But this tells me she needs Pix alive.

I guess that’s a good thing. Better than wanting her dead, I suppose.

Something in the trees moves. I watch and see a rabbit hop through. I’m so spent, not even a damned rabbit fears me. I crawl to my sleeping Pix, dragging myself as my weary legs and bloody feet trail behind me.

Blood. I need blood. I grip her wrist and bite, drinking her down.

But she’s spent, too. And what would usually give me a bit of a boost barely heals the sores and blisters from my running.

She needs charging up. If we get cornered now, we’re both as good as dead. And I can’t just lie here helpless when so many of our enemies are hunting us.

Hunting her.

Leaning in, I open her eyelid. White. She’s dreaming, and Shaw is walking in her mind.

If he’s walking, then he’s alive.

Thank fuck for that.

I only hope Dorian made it out in one piece as well.

‘I hope you don’t mind, Pix. But I need to get my strength back, or we’re sitting ducks like this.’ I smooth her hair to one side as her lashes flutter. ‘I wonder where that expression comes from. Sitting ducks.’

She’s so fucking beautiful when she sleeps. So at peace. It’s a rare sight to see.

Her at peace. Without the nightmares. Without the spirits haunting her. Without the attitude I love to be on the wrong end of.

I’m unsure why her anger is such a turn-on. But it really fucking is.

I lower myself, stopping when my face is level with her hips, and bunch her wedding skirt up around her waist. It’s a torn-up and filthy mess at this stage.

Shame.

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