Page 51 of Blue Embers
“No,” I refused, lifting her head to look at me. “Persephone, don’t.”
Her eyes grew heavy. Her breath became shallow. Around me, her warm blood was growing cold against the marble. The doors to the exhibit blew open once more and I turned to see Malice marching in, his normally casual expression now taught with ferocity. When he spotted Benjamin hanging off the balcony, he fisted his hands and rushed toward us, quickly kneeling on the other side of Persephone. Placing a hand on her chest, he felt her heartbeat and quickly glared at me.
“She’s dying,” he said.
I watched as her arm went lax atop the floor and images came to mind that I never wanted to revisit. Losing Persephone was too real a possibility now andnowI was coming to find how much I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her go. Not so quickly. Not after our time together was so brief. Not to a red witch that didn’t even have the guts to show herself.
“Did you hear me?” Malice said, leaning toward me. “She’s dying.”
“I know,” I muttered.
“And you won’t do anything?I’llmark her if you’re too empty to do it yourself, my friend, but she’s going to die. I’m no mind reader, but I know you don’t want that.”
“Persephone,” I said again, trying to inspire a response.
“She’s slipping, brother. Do it.”
I fought myself for barely a second, but ultimately there was no argument. I wanted to save Persephone far more than I wanted to keep a promise to myself. I slid my hand under the hem of her shirt, cupping it over one of her wounds and focusing my energy on that area first. It didn’t take long to feel that heat glide between us. For an instant, I felt her pain, her panic, her fear and everything in between. Her tissue closed up under my palm as little, electric shocks sizzled under my touch and before long, there was no going back. I lifted my hand from her waist to see a reddened print stamped on the side of her body. The danger wasn’t past, however. Malice and I both knew that.
“She needs medical attention,” Malice said calmly. “Who knows how much blood she’s lost.”
I nodded, slipping my arm around the back of her knees and hoisting her up as I stood. She was breathing shallowly, but she was alive. At that moment, that was all that mattered.
I brought Persephone to the hospital, careless about the blood stains on my car seats or all over my clothes. The metallic scent of it had me seething with anger over the idea that she’d been attacked in such a violating manner. Standing against a wall in the waiting room, I recalled what Persephone said about being made to do it. I recalled my knife in her hand and could only imagine Haera had forced her to inflict wounds on herself just to spite the Draak race. It was a psychological move to let us know how vulnerable we were. How vulnerable everyone was. The fact that it was my blue dagger in Persephone’s hand just made it that much more personal. I couldn’t imagine the fear she felt when she had no control over herself. The thought made my teeth grind.
Hatred and anger came together in a mess of sharp emotion when I envisioned Haera. I wanted to go after her right then, even if I had to do it myself, but even a Draak with my experience was no match for a red witch. I was furious, but I prided myself on being smart, even in the face of emotional unrest.
As I raced through a series of possible plans and approaches to the situation in my head, Malice walked over from down the hall with two water bottles from one of the vending machines. He was much calmer than I was. Over twice my age, the Viking-born Draak had seen his fair share of events and tragedy in his lifetime, I was sure.
“Anything?” he asked, twisting the cap off his bottle to take a drink after he handed the other one to me.
I shook my head, letting the cool bottle soothe the angry heat in my palms.
“Nothing since they told me she was stable,” I said.
“She’ll be fine,” Malice said, relaxing one shoulder against the wall in front of me. “She’s an Ashling now. She seemed capable before and now she’s got a bit of you in her veins to make her even stronger.”
“She didn’t ask to be marked,” I said, taking a drink.
“She didn’t ask to die either. So? What is it that’s got you so wound up about women?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my brows.
Malice smirked, his lips rising into a slant that said he would know a lie if I told one. “You know, human-born Draak like me don’t have all those emotion-sensing or mind-reading talents like you and Ash Bringers. What we do have is a great ability to smell bullshit. Fear is bullshit and you’re rank with it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Me, too. I can’t imagine living in fear of loving people.”
“Love is a very strong statement. And I have loved.”
“Haven’t we all? I’m nine hundred years old. I’ve loved a hundred times,” he laughed.
“It’s not the love I fear. It’s the loss.”
“Yeah, I’ve felt plenty of that, too,” he said, his voice trailing into a drop as he slouched. “But what’s the point of living as long as us if we can’t overcome all that and keep going? Honestly. I don’t know what happened to you.” He raised his hands as if in surrender. “But no matter how much you fight to keep that woman at arm’s length, she’s not meant to stay there. If you ask me, you’re already snagged. No man who doesn’t care acts like you did when you saw her on the floor of that museum.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself but knew there was no point. I would have helped anyone if I saw them in that bloody situation, but I didn’t just want to help Persephone. My chest hurt seeing her there, bleeding and afraid. I imagined, for a split second, what it would be like to lose her when I’d only just met her. Even if it wasn’t love, knowing there was so much more to experience and learn with her made the idea of loss a too-potent nightmare.
