Maxon’s hand closes around my wrist, pulling one of my hands from his face. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of my wrist, his lips warm against my skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low, aching rasp.
“A chroí,” I whisper, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “Talk to me. Please.”
He doesn’t respond—not with words. Instead, Maxon leans down, his lips brushing mine. The kiss is soft, achingly tender, carrying a weight of emotion that threatens to break me. It’s as if he’s pouring every unspoken word, every fear, every longing into this single moment. My stomach tightens, a knot of unease pulling tighter and tighter. Something is wrong. I can feel it, like the distant rumble of a storm closing in.
Breaking the kiss, I wrap my arms tightly around him, pressing my head to his chest. His heartbeat, faint and uneven. “Maxon,” I say softly, my voice trembling, “we’re coming for you. We’re on our way–”
“Don’t say anything more,” he interrupts, his tone sharp and cautious. “I’m not sure if she can hear us.”
“Who?” I ask, barely above a whisper. “Yumekui?”
He shakes his head slowly, as if shaking off invisible chains. “The blood magic,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “It’s getting harder to fight.”
A wave of panic slams into me, stealing my breath.
“What can I do?” I blurt out, desperation lacing my words.
Then a thought flickers in my mind. Mates can heal each other through shared blood. Would that work with a spell?
Can my blood wash away the evil trying to take over his mind?
It’s worth a try.
“Feed from me,” I plead.
Maxon stiffens, his hands gently gripping my arms as he pulls back to look at me. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is strained with a mix of longing and restraint.
“You won’t.”
“I barely stopped last time,” he argues, his tone carrying a dark edge of self-recrimination.
“But you did.” I reach up, cupping his face and forcing him to meet my gaze. “I trust you, Maxon. Take what you need to survive until I can get to you. Please.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as an internal battle rages within him. Then, unexpectedly, his expression darkens. “I saw you and Fenris.” He keeps his voice low, a faint growl vibrating beneath his words.
I blink, startled by the abrupt change in subject. “Me and Fenris?”
“In our chambers,” he clarifies. “He was wounded. You were comforting him.”
“How?” the question slips from my lips, confusion swirling like a rising storm.
Maxon’s eyes narrow, his voice heavy with doubt and pain. “Do you love him?”
My head jerks back as I stare at him, stunned. “What? No!”
Grabbing his hand, I press it firmly to my chest, over the frantic beating of my heart. “It’s only you, Maxon. You are the other half of my soul.”
His fingers graze my cheek, his touch achingly tender. “Losing you . . . isn’t something I would survive,” he murmurs. “Your smile, your kindness, your heart of gold—those are what keep me going. But if you want to be with someone else . . . I’d let you go. I’d give you that.”
Anger flares hot and fast, and before I can think, I punch him in the stomach. “Don’t be stupid!” I fume, my voice trembling with frustration. “Fenris is just a friend. You, Maxon, are my life, my mate, my soul. No one could ever replace you. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” My chest heaves with the force of my words, my emotions burning through me like wildfire.
For the first time, a spark of life returns to Maxon’s eyes, and a smirk plays at the corners of his lips. “Fiery as ever,” he growls, dragging me closer until our bodies are pressed together. His mouth crashes down on mine, the kiss fierce and full of unspoken promises.
Then, without hesitation, his fangs pierce my neck. The initial sting fades quickly, replaced by a warm, dizzying pull as he drinks. He’s tentative at first, but as the blood flows, his grip on me tightens, his arms crushing me to his chest. My hands bury themselves in his hair, holding him just as fiercely.
After a few moments, Maxon pulls back, his lips stained with crimson. His eyes are brighter now, glowing faintly with renewed energy. “Someone’s coming,” he warns, his voice urgent. “I have to go.”
