Connor and Dav. I grunted. As annoying as that fucker was, I was relieved to hear his voice. Not so much the King of Shifters, though. Connor always seemed to be around when I was incapacitated. I tried to focus, but the darkness and streetlights swayed dangerously, converging into a weird blur. My knees buckled, and I sagged against the building while sweat poured into my eyes. My chest felt like someone had tightened a steel band around it, and I couldn’t make it move quick enough to get air in.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
That wanker with the perfect smile was right. My body was shutting down. My knees buckled completely, banging painfully into the concrete. Saliva rushed into my mouth, and I vomited, fresh blood spraying from my nose and mouth.
“Shit, that’s not good.” Dav loomed over me.
“No shit, Sherlock.” It really wasn’t. My skin was freezing, my lungs burning, my heartbeat sluggish, and my limbs heavy. It was an effort to talk.
“What did they shoot you up with?” Connor squatted in front of me and unceremoniously pulled the arrows from my flesh.
“Hemlock.” My voice was barely more than a rasp.
“But that shouldn’t make you bleed.”
I know. At least, that was what I wanted to say, but words were no longer possible. Perhaps that fucker had lied… I slumped against the wall, half-lying, half-sitting.
Dav pulled out his phone. “Bal! Shit! Yes. No, he’s not okay. They’ve done something to him, too. I don’t fucking know. Just get here. He needs you.”
It was strange to feel the moment my body stopped responding, yet my brain still continued to absorb information. There was a blast of air, and familiar hands gripped my hair and jaw.
“Drink, Fledgling. Remember, you are mine, and I did not give you permission to die. And definitely not like this. Poisoned by our enemy.”
My head was manoeuvred back, allowing my jaw to drop open. The dark, spicy nectar of Bal’s blood flowed over my tongue. It pooled in my mouth and throat, but my body would not obey me when I told it to swallow. Soon, its warmth dribbled from the corners of my mouth and down my chin.
“Drink, damn you!”
I wanted to open my eyes and rage at him that I was trying, but I couldn’t.
Firm fingers began massaging my throat.
“It’s not enough, Bal.”
Even Dav sounded concerned. I wanted to laugh at his good acting skills, but couldn’t. He liked me even less than I liked him, and that was saying something. I wondered how long it would take my brain to shut off now that my body was essentially dead. Would it ever shut down? Would my soul still be capable of thinking? Would I remain aware and attached to my body? Because being trapped in my head, alone in the dark as my flesh rotted around my consciousness, wasn’t how I’d ever envisaged my end.
Fear slithered through me. It was a shit way to go, that was for sure. Even if there was an afterlife, by the time my soul reached it, the fucker who’d done this would be well beyond my reach. Unless I could become a ghost. Did ghosts exist? I mean, other things did. Vampires for one… I wanted to huff a laugh at the thought of Bal becoming a vampire-like ghostie…
Shit. I was already going mad. Maybe that’s what would happen to me. I’d go slowly insane from hypoxic brain injury. Could immortals get hypoxic brain injury? I chuckled. Yep, definitely losing it. Maybe I wouldn’t die as slowly as I feared. It didn’t really matter, I’d just go utterly insane first…
22
Balthazar
“If he dies,this is on you, Count.”
I snarled at Connor, my usual calm demeanor falling away, and the vicious monster within raising its head. He and Ember had arrived for our scheduled meeting just as those mages jumped over the bar. But instead of leaving immediately, they’d followed me out of the club, interfering where they weren’t wanted.
“Fuck you, Shifter King. He’s mine now. You have no right being here.”
My teeth lengthened to sharp, lethal points, and it took everything I had not to let my second set snap into place and rip his throat out. Because he was right. This was my fault. I knew Shane would be a target for my enemies. So was Sorcha, and I’d still used them as bait. I’d wanted to see who would come for them. I hadn’t expected mages, not for Shane. Sor, maybe, but not Shane. Sorcha had been a target since I’d first taken her from that arrogant dick Nicolai. I hadn’t considered that my enemieswould be so intent on getting to her that they’d poison the plastic of a bank card.
It was a different poison from the one that now infected Shane’s blood. Were the two attacks coordinated. Had she been a target just because she was my lover? Or was there something more sinister going on? If Minerva knew about the prophecy, did others? Maybe Minerva’s story about finding the scroll was bullshit, just as I’d suspected. I wouldn’t put it past her to use such an extravagant, well-thought-out lie to save herself. It crossed my mind that poisoning Sor may have been a distraction to get Shane away from me. But why poison him and then let him go?
Cold fingers of dread grasped my heart. To keep my secrets, I’d killed the old hag who had told me all about my destiny. But what if she wasn’t the only one who’d known?
“He belongs to my House until he says otherwise, Connor. He chose where he wants to be.”
“Did he? Or was he coerced into making that choice?”
