Page 77 of Savage Blood
Was that happening now? Was the mystical sickness polluting my system like a deadly poison?
“What do you expect me to do, Fane?” My voice came out as a hoarse whisper, black veins still staining my skin.
He tossed the rag on the bedside table, hunched over, and rested his head in his hands. The agony and desperation coming from him nearly choked me, and I couldn’t resist reaching out to place my palm on his shoulder.
Fane’s emotional distress drained into me, nearly crushing my chest and breaking my heart into a million pieces.
“Don’t,” he hissed, shaking my hand off. “You’re already suffering enough.”
My lips trembled, and I swallowed through the lump in my throat. “So are you.”
The demon shifter angled toward me, and instead of lecturing me about my irresponsible and stubborn behavior, he pressed his forehead to mine and inhaled a shaky breath.
“I can’t lose you, Tate.”
Deep fissures split my heart, and the air evaporated from my lungs. My fingers curled into his shirt as I breathed him in, our lips brushing.
Not being together was one thing, but one of us dying…
Could either of us survive that?
“Don’t let me lose you.” His voice cracked, and hot tears leaked down my cheeks as our anguish melded together.
A knock at the door had Fane pulling away, dragging his hand down his face like he was trying to rub off the emotions.
“Come in,” he grumbled.
I already knew who it was before he poked his head inside. His silver stare, full of concern, met my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Saint stepped into the room and closed the door.
My gaze flickered toward Fane as he stood from the bed, his shoulders tense. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“She’s lying.” Fane grabbed the rag and marched back to the bathroom. “Just dosomething, Saint.”
I fought the urge to chuck a pillow at the demon shifter. “Did he tell you what happened?”
Saint nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. “The Collective, Coltrane, your sickness. Marcel filled in a couple of gaps.”
At least he made it back in one piece.
As Fane stormed into the room, he fixed me with a sharp glare.“Stop being stubborn and let him heal you, Tate.”
“I can heal all on my own.”
He pounded his fist onto my dresser, rattling the few items on top—a dagger, a throwing knife, and a picture of us with the Anderses.“You can’t. And you’re just putting yourself at risk by refusing Saint’s help.”
But Saint’s help would no doubt strengthen our bond.
Scarlet flashed in Fane’s eyes.“If you want to save Hawk and defeat Barric, then I suggest you stop being thick-headed and take any help you can get.”
“Look, we all want the same thing,” Saint said, interrupting our silent argument. “No one wants to lose you to this, Tate.”
“Fine,” I gritted out, throwing a thick barrier around my heart to block them both. “What do you want me to do?”
A breath of relief burst from Saint, like he fully expected me to kick him out, and he removed his shoes. “I’ll hold you while you get some rest.”
“Is that it?”
