Page 74 of Possess Me at Midnight
But what choice do I have? Watch him slip away while I cling to caution?
“Shock swears this witch knows how to heal Bram,” Anka assures. “But we must let her do her job without protest or interference.”
I’m certain he did. I let my earlier impatience get the better of me and I shut down Duke’s inquiries. But now…I must know. “And why should I believe Shock has Bram’s best interests at heart?”
“I promised him that if something ill happens to Bram, I would take it out of his hide.”
Anka is my friend. She has been for decades. She would never knowingly hurt my brother, and Shock would never intentionally hurt her. Those facts are hardly guarantees, but they’re all I have.
In a corner of my brain, I want to ask Anka if she’s truly content living under Shock’s roof and sharing his bed. The difference between being Lucan’s mate and Shock’s lover must be extreme. Lucan always treasured Anka, put her first, provided well for her, and loved her dearly. Shock… Well, I hardly see him being the warm, fuzzy type.
Anka reads the question in my eyes and turns away. I sigh. Just as well. Tonight isn’t about their relationship; it’s about saving Bram. I just pray this works.
“If I do nothing, Bram will die, so I’ve no other choice but to leave him here with you.” I tear up, hating to show my weakness to another. “Please help him.” My voice breaks. “He’s…” The only family I have left. The man who raised me, protected me, believed in me when no one else would. My anchor in a world gone mad. “He’s everything to me.”
The small, hooded figure nods. “Return at dawn. I’ll do all I can by then.”
Then Anka leaves the room. Nerves twisting my insides, I follow suit to wait, hoping I haven’t just signed my brother’s death warrant.
Dawn is still an hour or two away, but I sense it approaching. I can’t sleep. I strain to hear any sounds in the bedroom beside mine where the mysterious witch locked herself in with Bram. Earlier, I heard a cry, then the woman chanting my brother’s name. He moaned in response. But…nothing in the past hour except a silence that could mean salvation or disaster.
Ice weighs heavily on my mind. I wrote in the Doomsday Diary nearly twenty-four hours ago, pouring my soul onto those ancient pages. But nothing has happened. The magic feels as cold and dead as my hope. Saving him is my heart’s desire. Granted, Sydney warned that the fulfillment of my wish would take time…but it’s time Ice doesn’t have.
I press my lips together to hold in my cry. Yes, an entire night without much sleep after a day fraught with danger isn’t helping me keep my composure or my emotions in check, but the thought of losing Ice as Bram might be slipping through my fingers is slowly destroying me. How can I possibly do without him when I just realized how very dear he is to me?
Punching the limp pillow, I roll to my side, and my hand hits something massive and solid. Someone. My fingers encounter the unmistakable planes of a male torso, motionless except for shallow, labored breathing.
Gasping, I jolt up and whirl around, pressing a hand to my chest. I stare through the dark, hardly able to see more than the outline of a man. In my bed. A large one, unmoving except for his ragged breathing. Something about the breadth of those shoulders, the familiar scent beneath the copper tang of blood, makes my breath catch. No. It can’t be. The smell grows stronger, filling my nostrils and making my stomach lurch with dread.
Heart drumming frantically as I search the shadows, I flick my wrist. Soft golden lights flood the room, and I shriek as my gaze lands on the man beside me, his face inches from mine.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Ice!
“Oh, my… You’re here. You’re safe!” I fling myself against him, desperate to feel his solid warmth, to prove he’s real.
The pained groan that tears from his throat stops me instantly. I rear back, pulling away to scan the damage.
The joy tripping through my heart quickly gives way to horror. Both his eyes are swollen shut, his cheekbones and jaw bruised blue-black. He lies shirtless on his stomach, and the sight of his back has me recoiling. Someone whipped him viciously. Repeatedly. His flesh is in shreds, still oozing blood and swelling angrily.
Fresh blood wreathes his head, slowly running into the dried rivulets crusting on his temples and brows. The metallic scent mixes with the lingering stench of the dungeon that still clings to his skin. It takes all my strength to hold in my sobs. Every lash, every bruise—my fault. He endured violent beatings because he refused to betray me, because I was foolish enough to distract him at a crucial moment.
If Ice remained in Mathias’s dungeon even another few hours, I’ve no doubt he would have died.
Biting back a sob, I smooth shaking fingertips over his sweating brow. His flesh burns fever-hot beneath my palm, yet he shivers as if chilled to the bone. “Ice, can you hear me?”
He struggles to draw in a rasping breath. His chest rattles with the effort. “Princess.”
I break completely. Tears sting my eyes, fall onto my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.”
Vaulting off the bed, I run to the ensuite bathroom and grab a stack of washcloths and towels. I wet one, then carry the rest back to the bed. His slack shoulders and soft snoring tell me he’s fallen asleep.
Probably for the best.
Swallowing hard, I gently mop the blood from his head, face, and neck, finding the beloved man under the grime. He barely moves—until I encounter an open gash at his nape. When he jerks and hisses, I dab at the damage, trying my best not to hurt him. Then I rinse the washcloth in the sink before returning to tend the shreds of his back.
