“How did you know. How did you find us?”
“Turns out the dud witch, isn’t such a dud after all,” he said, looking at BJ with a hint of appreciation.
Sarah’s rage filed through my mind, like a hellish slideshow. I staggered back, gripping at the desk. So much like Karson, it hit like a brick.
A first born. Sarah must be a first born.
“Bob, is he an immortal?” I breathed.
I wanted to sit down. I wanted to sleep for a thousand years.
Ethan nodded.
“But he walks and looks like an old man?”
“It’s all an act, he likes to come back home every so often, he changes his look so no one recognises him. He’s as sprightly as I am.”
“And all this time you knew . . . Sarah?” I accused.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“There was no reason to. Karson had wiped her mind—or so we thought.” He swept a hand roughly through his hair.
“What are you two talking about, immortals . . . how did you . . . how did she . . . please tell me I didn’t actually sleep with you?” Georgie stammered. “Fuck, I need to get tested. God knows what diseases you’ve given me.” She glared at him with disgust.
Had it not been so serious I might have laughed. “It’s a long story, Georgie,” I smiled weakly. “We have a lot of explaining to do. But you’re safe, Ethan can’t catch human diseases.”
Karson frowned.“Amelia, are you sure you’re alright? You are bleeding quite a lot.”
The red had winged down and seeped down over the top of my jeans. There was still no pain, perhaps the adrenaline had taken care of it. The stark realization he had killed the son of a man I cared about, combined with the build-up offear that our lives had been at risk, suddenly made me furious. Unquestionably, I was not fucking alright.
“Am I alright? Physically I’m fine, no thanks to you. Perhaps it might have been handy if you two had been honest with me for just once, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.” I glared between the both of them. As if the surge of anger tore the last threads of strength, I began to feel faint. “You . . . you are nothing but a cold-blooded, heartless . . . murdering . . . bastard and—” I stopped, stars danced in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t continue. The anger born words I wanted to say were obliterated in my head. Robbed of power and will, my legs began to deflate.
Karson reached out and steadied my body.
“Don’t touch me,” I said bitterly, yanking away from his grasp. Staggering under the burst of effort.
His brow flickered.
Energy depleted, there were no words I could use that would even come close to expressing the anguish and disdain I held for him. Nothing I could say that would change anything, anyway. I needed to sit. My legs crumbled.
Karson caught me as I collapsed toward the floor. He lifted my top up.
He drew a sharp breath. “That’s not a scratch . . . Dahlia.”
“It’s fine,” I snapped, looking down, sticky scarlet rivulets burst and seeped from three knife slices down my side. “Oh.” Was all I could manage. It was quite a bit worse than I’d anticipated. I glanced at Ethan to make sure he was okay, the blood not too much for him, but his eyes didn’t hold a glow, they held concern, agony, and guilt. I would have preferred blood lust than seeing him inflicted by such emotional pain.
Dahlia moved over and squatted down, her knees cracking. She touched my arm.
“Oh no, no, not again,” I mumbled, the memory of the agony scorched my mind. “Just do the wound, my chest is fine.”
She waved her hand above my stomach and chanted. The burning ceased. The wound half closed. The blood flow slowed to a trickle. “It will still need stitching, and soon. Are you sure your chest is okay?” She squinted down.
“I think so, it’s not hurting.”
“What about your head?”
