Knight's metal fist connects with my chest before I get two steps.
Everything goes white.
Chapter 47
COSIMA
I'm floating.
No… not floating.Cradled.
Strong arms hold me against a bare chest, warmth seeping into my skin despite the cold that's settled deep in my bones. I can feel movement, the rhythm of walking, but when I look around, nothing seems to move at all.
Where the hell am I?
The space stretches infinite and intimate at the same time. Walls of pearl and starlight curve overhead like the inside of a massive shell. Or a moon. The thought feels right somehow, even if I don't understand why. Everything glows with soft silver light that doesn't hurt my eyes, and white flowers scatter across the ground beneath us. Even then, I can't tell if my feet are touching anything solid.
For all I know, I could be underwater.
My head feels stuffed with cotton. Memories slide away when I try to grasp them, leaving only impressions. Pain. Blood. Screaming. The details blur together into a watercolor mess that makes my skull ache.
"Where..." My voice comes out thin, paper-thin, like speaking might tear me in half.
"Safe."
The word in Vrissian is a soft, deeprumble that vibrates through his chest and into mine. Rich as dark honey poured over gravel, smooth and sensual despite the underlying growl, as if the voice is coming from the throat of a beast.
I tilt my head back, trying to see who's holding me.
Oh.
My breath catches.
He's… beautiful. Beautiful in the way sacred things are beautiful—sharp and perfect and somehow untouchable even though he's touching me right now.
Long white hair falls just past his broad shoulders, framing a face with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His skin is unmarked, perfect. And his eyes…gods, his eyes are the brightest blue I've ever seen. Summer sky reflected in clear water.
I know him.
The certainty hits my chest violently. Iknowthis alpha. Have known him longer than I've known anything else. My soul recognizes him even if my scrambled brain can't place the details.
"I've seen you before," I murmur in Vrissian, studying his face. "Haven't I?"
He doesn't say anything, but sadness softens those impossibly blue eyes and he shifts his hold on me slightly, adjusting so I'm more comfortable against him.
Maybe I've seen him in my dreams. The lines blur together, refusing to separate into clear memories.
I'm dying.
Understanding settles over me with strange detachment, like observing someone else's tragedy. I should be scared. Should be fighting, clawing my way back to consciousness. But wrapped in these strong arms, cradled against his chest, I can't quite muster the appropriate panic.
Maybe I'm already dead.
"Am I dead?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"No." The answer comes swift and absolute, a low growl that scrapes the air between us. "I won't let you die."
I almost laugh, but it comes out as a weak huff. "That confident, huh? What are you, some kind of miracle worker?"
