“She can’t stay dependent. She needs to fight it off. Her Fae side will burn through it.”
“What if she dies?”
“She won’t!”
“I won’t let her.”
I’m so tired…
You will fight. Your mates are counting on you.The voice echoes in the void, but I’m already drifting away.
It sounds important. Life-changing.
But…
Chapter 25
Water.
My lips are dry. My tongue’s glued to the roof of my mouth. What the fuck? How much did I drink?
I stretch out my arm, blindly groping for the glass on my bedside table, not fully awake.
“Sels,” a voice murmurs, hoarse, broken, then bellows, “She’s awake!”
Jestin. ”
I blink against the light, flinching as it is searing my vision. He is sitting at the end of my bed, shirt unbuttoned, his hair a tousled mess.
“Hi, handsome,” I croak, wincing at the burn in my throat.
He must’ve ridden it hard. Ha.
“Easy,” he says, holding a straw to my lips.
The water is cold, nearly as divine as Fae wine. I drain the glass, then take a deep breath.
“I was afraid,” Jestin whispers. “You almost didn’t come back.”
“That much of a party?” I tease, but he doesn’t smile. His lips press together, hard.
Someone else… has someone else ridden my throat?
I take in his bruised, hollow eyes, hair wild, but not from sex.
“You look awful,” I rasp.
He laughs softly. “That’s exactly what you would say after almost dying.”
“You underestimate my ability to hold that liquid, Juice. Come here and I’ll show you how alive I still am,” I tease, but he doesn’t crack a smile.
What the fuck is wrong?
“What happened?” My voice rises, high-pitched.
He looks around and I follow his gaze.
This isn’t Santorili. Not my room in Tricity. Not Uncle Filip’s. Not home.
