Page 79 of Tempting the Fae Lord
He’s limp in my arms.
No.
Eulie. I need Eulie.
Casting the portal to return is always much easier. Of all the places I’ve portalled, my home is where I’ve gone most. The path should be clear to me. Yet as our troops gather around me, eerily silent, I struggle to work the magic. I’m shaking too much.
I force myself to focus on the magic.
The portal opens, a glowing ring of purple with my last hope waiting on the other side. I stumble through and collapse on the stone floor of the Great Hall, banging my knees but protecting Gale from the impact.
I can’t see clearly. My eyes are wet. “Eulie!”
“I’m here, love.”
“Gale’s hurt. Save him!”
Around me, there is movement. There is sound. Willow’s sturdy voice issuing commands. Petru’s sniffling. The boots of soldiers clomping by. I don’t know what’s happened to Sonja, and I don’t care.
In my arms, only stillness.
Then Eulie’s gentlest tone at my shoulder. “It’s too late.”
“It’s not. The medical kit. Grab it. He needs stitches.”
“Stitches won’t fix this, Ezra.” Pain in her voice.
Petru hovers at my other side. “There is a way.”
“What? What way? Do it now, curses. Fix him!”
“Not me. My magic doesn’t work like that. You.”
Realization dawns.
A vampire.
I could make him a vampire. My mind rebels. “I’ve never made another.”
“But it was done to you,” says Petru. “So you know how.”
“Yes.”
“Then do it. Or his death will be final.”
I look to Eulie, pleading. For what I don’t know. Permission? Her blessing? His? “What if he hates me?”
“He won’t.” She says this so easily. Like she believes it.
But I hate the one who made me.
I’ll never forgive myself if Gale hates me for this.
I’ll never forgive myself if I let him die.
My gaze fixes on his neck, the delicate skin of his throat, the muscle at the junction of neck and shoulder.
The demon inside me salivates.
