Page 35 of Midwinter Night's Prince

Blair thought she knew about pain. She’d broken her ankle as a kid after falling out of a tree. That had hurt like hell. And then there had been her first period. She’d used magic to ensure she’d never have to deal with that mess ever again. Blair had fought with enough huntsmen and vampires to have been kicked, punched, and sliced occasionally. Nothing compared to this. It wasn’t the knife under her chest, though that certainly was a bitch, too. The pain had spread under her skin, searing her blood. She could feel herself fading.

Seth wasn’t taking it too well. She doubted he was used to not being in control.

Blair wanted to make him understand that she was okay with her choice, so he wouldn’t carry guilt over it for the rest of his days, but fuck, talking hurt like hell.

She must have dozed off and started to dream—or maybe she was just dead—because there was a flash of bright light, and moments after, she was home. The only place she’d ever considered home. Oldcrest.

She was on top of Night Hell, right at Chloe’s doorstep.

“Help!” The voice seemed far away, but she heard the echoes of it resonating around her.

She was home.

20

ALMOST HOME

They were surrounded in an instant, which was usually one of the things that Seth hated about Oldcrest. Everyone was in each other’s business, practically living on top of each other. This time, he’d never been happier to see people turn up.

“Oh my god, is that Blair?” someone screamed out loud, before calling for Helsing.

Mere seconds later, the blond vampire hybrid rushed in on a burst of wind. He took in the situation in one sweeping glance and immediately knelt right next to Seth. “Hold her down,” he ordered, glancing up from Avani to Diana. Both girls immediately jumped into action, pinning her hands and feet. To Seth, he said, “This thing is hurting her. The moment I pull it, you press on the wound, understood?”

That didn’t sound like a good idea. “What if it slices something on the way out? What if the blade’s pressure the only thing keeping her alive? Alexius…”

The ancient moved before Seth had a chance to fit in another word—he seized the hilt and pulled it out.

Blair, who’d seemed unconscious until then, screamed harder than she had so far, the sound ending in a wordless plea followed by soft cries. She writhed, but both vampire females were holding her quite firmly.

Shit.

Seth pressed both palms hard against her wound, dismayed when they were drenched in blood seconds later.

He looked away, wincing. “Oh god.”

“Calm down, Stomhale, she’s already healing.”

What?

That didn’t make any sense. All the blood! And mortals just didn’t heal from wounds like these. She hadn’t even taken his blood. Not that his blood could do much against an injury like this.

Well, it could. If Blair drank enough of it, she’d die anyway, but she’d wake again the next night at least.

“I should give her blood. Blair, can you hear me?” Her only reply was a low moan, drowning in the rest of her whimpers that grew weaker and weaker. “You need to drink. No bullshit this time.”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary,” Alexius replied.

The ancient was starting to piss him off.

“Her breathing’s already deeper. There was something about this knife—something poisoning her.”

Seth’s gaze moved from his blood-coated hands to her chest. Indeed, it rose and fell far deeper than it had moments ago.

None of this made any sense at all to him. This blade was poison to him, but it shouldn’t have affected her—not beyond being sharp and pointy, in any case. Made of fyriron, it had been crafted on Olympus to destroy Enlightened. Not humans.

“She’s gonna be fine. Let’s find her a bed and make her comfortable.”

“I can’t move my hands. If I do…”

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