Page 50 of Cherish

“We should get going,” Hudson says from beside me. His voice is as stiff as his upper lip, his British accent so formal that if he wasn’t looking straight at me—and we weren’t the only two people in this hallway—I would guess he was talking to a stranger.

“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping forward so I can rest a hand on his biceps. Because no matter how hurt and confused I am by his silence on all of this, he’s still Hudson. Still my mate. And the thought of him hurting destroys me.

“I’m fine,” he answers. But there’s something in his eyes, something in the way he’s holding himself, like he might shatter right here in what’s left of his father’s office, that makes me think he’s far from fine.

Even before he pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me so tightly that I can barely breathe.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, stroking my hands over his hair, his neck, his too-tense back. “Whatever this is, it’s going to be okay.”

His cheek is pressed to the top of my head, and I feel him nod.

I also feel the deep, shuddering breath he takes and the shaky way he lets it out.

And then he’s pulling away, a half smile on his lips that doesn’t feel like it belongs there. But the light is back in his eyes as he looks down at me, and that makes it easier for me to believe he’s okay for now.

And much easier for me to go along with it when he says, “It’s been close to twenty minutes. We should probably get to Mekhi.”

There’s so much I want to say right now, so much I want to ask him. But I know he’s right—just like I know this isn’t the time or the place for my questions. Hudson doesn’t like being vulnerable on a good day. Trying to get him to let his guard down here, in the middle of the Vampire Court, where he spent most of his life being tortured?

To borrow a phrase from his book, not bloody likely.

So instead of pushing like I really want to do, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him down for a kiss…or three.

The fourth kiss gets interesting, has my heart beating too fast and my blood roaring in my veins. But this isn’t the time or the place for our intense chemistry, either. Hudson was right when he said we need to get back to the others.

I give myself—give us—just a few more seconds. Just one more kiss. Then I pull reluctantly away. “You’re right. We should.”

When he grins down at me this time, the darkness and distance is gone from his eyes—at least for now. In its place is the wild, desperate, infinite love that I’m so used to seeing there. The same wild, desperate, infinite love that I know is in my eyes when I look up at him.

It’s not enough—we still need to talk, and I still need answers about what’s going on with him—but for now, as we hurry down the hallway to Mekhi’s room, it feels like a step in the right direction.

29

It’s the Motion

of the Potion

Hudson and I make it back to our friends just as the nurse opens the door to let us in to see Mekhi again.

My heart is in my throat as I move toward the bedchamber, terrified of what we’re going to find when we walk in there. But Mekhi looks fine—definitely better than he did when we left him with the nurse. The sleeping draught has obviously taken effect, as the lines of pain are smoothed out from his face.

The nurse hands Eden a small black parcel. “There’s another sleeping draught in there, in case you need it to get him where you’re going. But that’s all you can give him. He’s too weak to metabolize more right now.”

“So he’s going to be suffering?” Jaxon asks, voice hoarse.

The nurse gives him a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing to be done to stop the suffering. The draught makes him comfortable for a little while, but anything else will only exacerbate the effects of the shadow poison.”

“So how are we going to do this?” I move straight into logistics in an effort not to dwell on Mekhi’s suffering. “We’re using one of Macy’s seeds to get to the Witch Court, correct? But how are we going to move Mekhi through the portal?”

“I’m carrying him,” Jaxon answers in a tone that brooks no argument.

“That’s okay, right?” Eden asks the nurse. “It won’t hurt him to be carried?”

“He has to be moved,” he replies. “And that’s definitely the most practical way to get him through the portal.”

It’s impossible to miss the fact that he didn’t answer her question. Then again, that’s an answer in and of itself. Moving Mekhi will hurt him, but there’s not much we can do about that right now.

“Where’s the closest exit?” Flint asks, pulling out Macy’s bag of magic seeds again.

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