Page 452 of Shadowblood Souls
He coughs and flexes his muscles. The next second, Zian is there at his other side, sliding a strong hand under Dom’s shoulders to help him sit up.
All of the other guys cluster tighter around the hospital bed as Dominic finds his balance. He slings a wobbly arm around me and gives me an equally wobbly smile.
“You don’t have to look so worried, Sugar,” he says softly though hoarsely. “There isn’t much that’ll knock me and my tentacles down for good.”
As I choke back a startled laugh, he loops one of those tentacles around my waist. Then his gaze drifts from me to the other guys and to the room beyond us.
At the scene he takes in, his brow does knit. He studies our surroundings for several breaths before returning his attention to us. “Where the hell have we ended up now?”
The laugh I sputter at his question holds no humor at all. “It’s a long story. And most of it isn’t good. I’m just glad you’re back with us.”
Gladis the understatement of the year. The glow of joy lighting me up at his embrace and his words could power an entire city.
“Let’s get you up,” Jacob says, a little gruffly, and holds out his arm. “I don’t know how well those assholes actually healed you. If you need to draw energy from someone?—”
Andreas knocks Jacob’s ribs with his elbow. “You don’t have to go all self-sacrificing, Jake. There are plenty of shrubs and hedges outside that’ll do the trick.”
Jacob makes a face as if he was actually looking forward to offering himself up—which knowing him he might have been—but he doesn’t argue.
I help Dominic off the bed. Zian quickly comes around to join us, but Dom manages to walk with only a little extra support keeping him steady.
His head swings one way and another on our tramp down the hall to one of the outer doors. He manages a weak whistle. “This is definitely our fanciest prison yet.”
I guess it’s not hard for him to figure out that we’re not exactly free here. Not just from the way we’re acting, but from the metal bands that bind his wrists just like all of ours.
I brush a kiss to his shoulder. “You could say that. This one holds us with a different kind of chains.”
To my surprise, none of Balthazar’s underlings rush over to demand the location of his prize. We meander out into the chilly early morning air unimpeded.
Dominic’s feet stall under him while he takes in the mountain vista surrounding us. “Well, that’s… that’s something,” he manages to mumble.
We help him over to a stone bench near a couple of particularly vibrant shrubs… which might not remain that way for long.
Jacob jerks his head toward one of the bushes. “Heal up anything that’s still not quite right inside you. Who knows how much damage the prick who’s keeping us here actually did to you?”
Dom stretches his back and snakes one of his tentacles over to the shrub. “I don’t feelbad, exactly, just worn out and a little sore.”
“You should do what you can, just to be sure,” I say, my throat constricting.
What if Balthazar’s doctors only healed him enough to make himlookokay, and he’ll collapse again tomorrow?
Dominic’s monstrous appendage twines around the shrub’s bristly branches. He closes his eyes and relaxes against the back of the bench.
Before my eyes, the shrub’s thin evergreen leaves turn brown around the spot where Dominic’s tentacle rests. The closest branches shrivel and sag.
But when he releases the plant, he’s only left a dull patch on the larger form. As far as I can tell, not being a gardener, it should survive with a bit of pruning.
A more vibrant color has come back into Dom’s face, a brighter light in his eyes. When he smiles at us now, my heart lifts.
“I think that’ll do it,” he says. “How about you show me around and fill me in now?”
I lift one arm to indicate my manacle. “As much as we can.”
Dominic’s mouth slants. He’s been through enough troubles with us to understand my implication.
“Let’s get you to the kitchen,” Zian suggests. “You haven’t eaten in more than a week—you’ve got to be starving!”
Dom chuckles in agreement and ambles back to the villa with us without any support needed. I can’t tear my eyes off him, as if, if I glance away for a second, his recovery might reverse itself.
