Page 116 of Heir of Illusion

“Really?” he asks. “Or would you have lain there and let them beat you to death like you were doing earlier?”

Heat flames my cheeks. “I wasn’t?—”

The words cut off as something catches my eye. Moonlight glistens off a blade heading straight for me, but before it can reach its target, Thorne shifts his body. Hot blood splatters against my cheek as he hits the ground next to me.

Male screams erupt as the shadow snakes descend on the culprit, the sound of ripping flesh and hungry growls filling the air. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize that it’s Taron screaming. He may have survived the injuries Thorne inflicted, but that certainly won’t be the case once the shadows are finished with him.

My hands shake as I roll Thorne onto his back, his body limp. Every bit of fire in my blood turns to ice the moment I see his neck. Blood spurts from the jagged slice along his throat, already soaking his shirt.

“No,” I gasp as everything in my mind comes to a screeching halt. I’m frozen with fear, unable to move or think.

Weak. Worthless.

No. No, I can help him. I have to help him.

“Pressure.” I nod my head as my trembling hands move to his neck. “I need to apply pressure to the wound.”

His skin is slippery under my fingers. There’s so much blood. How much can a person lose? I used to know that information, but it’s gone now. Everything’s gone.

“Please,” I beg the Fates. “Don’t let him die. Save him.”

As if my prayers have been answered, Thorne’s eyes drift open, finding mine instantly. His lips curve in a soft, content smile. He almost looks peaceful… At least until his gaze flits down, filling with horror as he spots my hands on his neck.

“What?” I ask, scanning the alley for a new threat. “What’s wrong?”

“Get away from me,” he insists, putting all his strength into the words. “Now!”

Hurt flares through me, potent and crushing, but it subsides quickly as a shocking realization sinks in. I stare at my hands, pressed firmly against his bare neck.

I’m touching Thorne.

I’m touching the God of Death.

Chapter

Thirty

Isnatch my fingers away from his skin as if he’s burned me.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking!” The words rush out of me in a single breath.

“Are you alright?” Thorne sits up. His gloved hand reaches for me on instinct, before he pulls it back, cursing under his breath.

I stare at my own hands, waiting for them to catch fire or something equally horrifying. My brain is moving far too quickly to form rational thoughts. Am I going to die? The memory of Lord Burgess screaming in agony sends a fresh bolt of terror through my veins.

“How bad was it? I’m sorry, Ivy.” His fingers run helplessly through his hair, pulling at the inky black strands as his pleading eyes beg me to be alright. “Fuck! I’m so sorry.”

My heart pounds against my chest, the force of it jolting me into action. I need to calm down. I take a deep breath through my nose and hold it for five seconds before releasing it through my mouth. I do this several more times, my eyes glued to the slash on Thorne’s neck. The blood has slowed, telling me it’s already clotting. As my pulse steadies, the realization that he was never truly in danger sinks in. The wound, while terrifying, wasn’t enough to kill a God. Somehow, that knowledge had been overshadowed by the sight of his blood staining my hands.

Relief melts my bones, leaving me weightless. Thorne will survive.

But will I?

I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting to be struck by the terrible pain of Death’s touch. Helplessness paralyzes me as the seconds pass, spreading into minutes. And yet… nothing happens.

“Ivy!” Thorne begs, his tone sparking a suspicion that he’s been speaking to me for quite some time. “Please look at me, Angel.”

Doing as he asked, I peek one eye open. Evidence of the night’s horrors is smeared across Thorne’s cheek, the blood stark against the unusual paleness of his skin. His fists are clenched at his sides, his body rigid with restraint. When my gaze connects with his, the terror I find there is staggering. There’s no evidence of the smug confidence he always carries. Instead, it’s been replaced with fear.

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