Page 42 of Camael
Jace’s alder staff hummed with energy as he reached for a scalpel. "Hold her down," he ordered Camael. "This is going to hurt like a motherfucker, but I've got to cut out the dead tissue before it gets a foothold."
“Like flesh-eating bacteria?” Camael was horrified at the thought.
"Not bacteria," Jace replied in a steady voice despite the grim situation. "This is more like radiation necrosis mixed with supernatural gangrene. The power surge literally cooked her tissue from the inside out. If we don't excise it now, the deadcells will poison her system faster than anything my medical textbooks ever covered. And trust me, I did my first ‘residency’ during a yellow fever outbreak before modern medicine. I've seen some shit. But this?" He shook his head while prepping the surgical site. "This is next level cellular destruction. Now brace her shoulders. This isn't going to be pretty."
The archangel's hands were gentle as steel as he gripped Amelia's shoulders. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth when Jace made the first incision along her side. Black fluid wept from the wound. His stomach revolted as hard as his heart. The stench of decay, made him want to take her to the forbidden fountain in Heaven. She shouldn’t have anything of the sort corrupting her. Camael clamped down on his emotions so he didn’t do anything rash. Amelia needed him there for her.
"Motherfucker," Jace muttered as he worked. Sweat darkened his shirt while he carved away tissue that had literally been burned out by too much power. "Her system's in chaos. The overload fried nerve endings, and damaged organ tissue. I’m not sure I will be able to do enough for her. I may need your energy to jump-start her regeneration once I get this rot out."
"Take what you need." Camael's voice was wrecked as he watched Amelia's blood stain Jace's hands.
The healer's staff glowed brighter as he channeled more power through it. He used it to identify compromised tissue. His movements were precise and brutal as he cut away everything that was already dead. When he finally set down the bloody scalpel, his hands were shaking.
"Now comes the hard part." Jace's eyes met Camael's. "I need your divine energy to heal what's left. I'm not sure how my system can handle your shit, but it's her only shot."
"Do it." Camael didn't hesitate as he gripped Jace's shoulders from behind.
Raw power flooded through the contact. Jace's whole body seized as Camael’s divine energy used him as a conduit. His curse echoed off the walls as he fought to direct that lethal force to do what he wanted. Minutes stretched into hours as they battled to save her. Jace's face went gray with strain while Camael poured everything he had into the healer. Neither male stopped until Amelia's color improved and the massive crater in her side filled in.
Only then did Jace step back. "She'll live. But I never want to do that shit again."
He heard the words, but Camael didn’t release the breath he’d been holding until Amelia's breathing evened out. Color returned to her cheeks as her magical core found a new equilibrium. The Key at her throat brightened. Its pulse was stronger and steadier.
"She's stable," Jace managed before his knees buckled. Camael caught the healer before he could face-plant. "Get her somewhere quiet to rest. She'll need at least twenty-four hours to recover."
"You need rest, too," he told the other male.
"What I need is a bottle of Jack and about twelve hours of unconsciousness." Jace waved off his concern as he straightened. "My mate will take care of me. You take care of your witch. I'll be fine once my system processes your energy."
Not waiting to be told twice, Camael gathered Amelia in his arms. Her weight was reassuring as he carried her through the mansion's halls to his quarters. The space was sparsely furnished. He hadn’t bothered with more than the basics. But the bed was massive and comfortable. That was all that mattered.
He laid her down with infinite care. He took a moment to brush dark hair from her face. Fear clawed at his ancient heart as he remembered how close he'd come to losing her.The thought of continuing without her by his side made something in his chest constrict painfully.
Hours passed as he kept vigil. His ice-blue eyes never left her face while reports flowed in from his warriors. The river was secure. Sarah's texts were safe. Everything was under control between his AORs, the triplets, and the Dark Warriors. For Camael, none of it mattered until those green eyes opened.
When they finally did, his relief nearly brought him to his knees. "Hey there, angel," she managed, her voice rougher than gravel. "Did anybody get the license plate of that truck?"
The laugh that ripped from his throat startled him. He didn’t think he could laugh under the circumstances, but his witch was good at lightening the mood. "You nearly died," he told her as he moved to sit beside her on the bed. "What you did with the river... it almost burned you out."
"Did it work?" She struggled to sit up. He was there instantly to help. "Did we stop whatever was coming through?"
"Yeah." His fingers traced her jaw as he stared into eyes he'd feared might never open again. "You didn't just stop it. You changed something fundamental in the river's energy. Even Lucifer will have trouble corrupting it now."
"Good." Her smile was weak but genuine. "Though next time, remind me to pace myself. Pretty sure I overdid it."
"There won't be a next time." He growled as he pulled her into his arms. "You are never doing something that reckless again."
She relaxed against his chest, and her fingers traced patterns on his shirt. "You can't protect me from everything, Archangel. This is what I was born for."
"I know." The admission cost him, but he couldn't deny the truth of it. "Doesn't mean I have to like watching you nearly kill yourself."
Her hand came up to cup his face. The tenderness in her touch undid him. "I'm still here," she whispered. "Still yours."
The last word broke something in him. With a growl that was pure need, he claimed her mouth. The kiss carried every ounce of fear and desperate relief he'd felt watching her fight for her life. His hands tangled in her hair as he poured everything he couldn't say into the contact.
She met him with equal passion. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she pressed closer. Power sparked between them. This time, it was purely physical. This wasn't about magic or destiny or saving the world. This was about them.
His hands slid beneath her torn shirt. He needed to feel her alive and warm against him. She arched into his touch with a gasp that made his control fray. "Amelia." Her name was both prayer and curse as he broke the kiss to look at her. "We should stop. You're still recovering-"
