I want to tell him I’m fine, that Beaufort is making a fuss, but I can’t find the energy to make my mouth work and my body’s shivering uncontrollably. I can’t make it stop. I’m not so sure I am fine.
“She was struck by lightning,” Beaufort says.
“What can I do? What can I do to help?” Thorne asks frantically.
“Go fetch her friends. She’ll be worried about them.”
Thorne is out the door immediately and Beaufort carries me up the staircase and into his room. He doesn’t switch on the light, laying me straight down on the bed. My body continues to shake as he peels my wet clothes from my body.
“I need to take a look at the wound, sweetheart,” he lays a warm hand on my forehead, “I’m going to be as gentle as I can.”
I barely hear his words. The world is swimming in and out of focus. And then pain – sharp and fierce.
I cry out.
I feel the weight of Beaufort’s hand on my shoulder, pressing me down into the mattress and then relief; blessed and all-encompassing relief.
I blink open my eyes, and in the darkness find Beaufort gazing down at my side, his right hand hovering over my skin and his shadows streaming from his fingers.
I peer down at my body. There’s a freaking big wound there – all charged and mangled flesh – and I almost faint all over again.
I let my head fall back down onto the pillow.
“Can you fix it?” I say, as the room spins round and round.
“Yes,” he says with that usual Beaufort confidence, “I’ve fixed a lot worse.”
The pain is less intense now, but I’m cold, shivering and sick to the stomach. Beaufort’s magic tingles around the wound, occasionally eliciting something sharper that makes me wince. Each time, he apologizes, his brows knotting that little bit more firmly together.
“Blaze,” I mumble after a few more minutes, realizing I abandoned the dragon out on the field.
“Shhhh,” he says, “just rest now, sweetheart.”
“But–”
“Sweetheart, that dragon currently has a small group of female admirers gathered around him. He’s just fine.”
“Huh?” I murmur.
“Last I saw him, there were several women stroking their hands all over your dragon’s neck and his chest, and he was vibrating in delight. He was clearly in his element.”
If I weren’t feeling so terrible, drifting in and out of consciousness, I would laugh. But I don’t have the strength right now. I close my eyes.
“I love you, Briony Storm. I love you so fucking much.”
I open my eyes.
Once again, I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or to himself.
“I love you too, Beaufort,” I murmur.
His eyes flick from the wound to meet mine and for a moment we just stare at each other. Then, with a whole lot of effort, I raise my hand and touch his cheek. They are rough with stubble and he leans into my touch.
“Don’t do that again,” he whispers, “promise you won’t.”
I’m quiet, because, what can I say? I can’t promise that. We both know I can’t. We both know who I am.
“I can’t lose someone else I love, Beaufort, I just can’t.” His eyes hold my gaze and for once his are full of empathy, like maybe he understands. “I just want us all back together,” I say, stroking my fingers over his cheek.
