Kara’sbloodfloodsthroughme like liquid fire, healing and awakening every cell. The pain recedes as flesh knits back together, bones mending at unprecedented speed. But it’s more than physical healing – her essence courses through my veins, creating something so profound it steals my breath.
I grip her wrist gently, fighting to control my response to her blood. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this intensity. I sense her every heartbeat, every breath, every flicker of thought.
Enough,” I manage, pulling away before I take too much. Her face swims into focus, pale but determined. The predator in me screams to continue feeding, to drain every last precious drop, but iron control wins out.
Her blood still sings in my veins, more potent than any I’ve tasted in my long existence. The power it holds, the raw magic streaming through my system, is intoxicating. I force myself to look away from the tempting pulse point at her throat, unwilling to risk losing control again.
I feel Kara’s unnatural stillness. Her emotions are a turbulent mix beneath her calm exterior – fear warring with relief, determination wrestling with uncertainty, and something deeper she’s trying to suppress. She hasn’t moved from my side, though her face is pale from blood loss.
Around us, the others stare in stunned silence. Darick’s expression holds knowing recognition – he’s been through this himself with Rowan. Evelyn watches with a mix of concern and calculation while Seraphina’s eyes narrow at the obvious depth of our connection. The bond between Kara and me is visible even to those without supernatural senses.
“Impossible,” Selene whispers, breaking the silence. “The healing shouldn’t be this complete, this fast.”
She’s right. Even with witch blood, injuries this severe should take days to fully heal. Yet I can feel the last of my wounds closing, strength surging through my restored body. Kara’s blood hums in me, more potent than any I’ve encountered in centuries.
Standing gingerly, I reach for her hand, but she pulls back slightly. Her face remains carefully blank, though I can feel she’s struggling to process what just happened. The permanent nature of what we’ve done hasn’t fully hit her yet. Or perhaps it has, and this studied calm is her way of coping.
“Kara…?” I begin.
“I’m fine,” she says flatly, though her voice wavers slightly. “We should focus on—” She stops abruptly, swaying on her feet.
I catch her elbow before she can fall, ignoring her attempt to shrug me off. Her pulse races under my fingers, her skin coolto the touch. She’s given too much blood, yet she’s fighting to maintain her composure, to appear unaffected.
I sense her building the walls around her emotions, trying to lock down the flood of feelings threatening to overwhelm her. But she can’t hide from me anymore – not with her blood flowing through my veins, not with our souls inexorably linked.
“The sphere!” Evelyn’s voice cuts through my daze. She’s practically vibrating with agitation, her usual composure cracking. “Where is it?”
“Crystal sphere?” I say. “About this size?” I indicate with my fingers. “Purple power inside.”
“That’s the one.” She nods vigorously.
I grimace. “Lucien had it while he was…working me over.” I glance around at the carnage of battle. Glass, plaster, and splintered wood surround us, but nothing looks like it could be the remnants of that sphere. “He probably took it with him if it was important.”
“Oh, it was important all right.” The matriarch sets her jaw. “We need it back.”
“But, Gran—” Rowan starts.
“We need to save Poppy!” Evelyn interrupts her.
“Well, of course we do, Gran.” Mia steps in. “But first, we need to get you home. You’ve survived an absolute nightmare. You need rest.”
Morgan steps forward, frowning. “Dame Blackwood, surely a familiar isn’t our priority right now—”
“You fool,” Evelyn snaps, her eyes flashing. “You have no idea what’s at stake. What’s inside is…unthinkable.”
Shadowmaster blinks at her, bewildered. I’m guessing that not a lot of people talk to him that way.
“If it made him so strong, why didn’t he stay to face us?” Rowan asks.
“The power in it is sensitive. Difficult to control. He could have channeled that energy against one, but a group?” She shakes her. “He knew it was too risky.”
“So he ran. The coward,” Darick sneers.
“Tactical retreat,” Morgan observes coolly. “Classic Marlowe. He never stays to finish a fight if there’s any risk to himself.”
“Mother, please sit down.” Lake moves to support Evelyn, who’s grown increasingly pale. “You’re not fully recovered—”
“Don’t patronize me!” Evelyn shrugs off his hand. “You don’t understand. That sphere— We have to recover it immediately. Poppy’s life depends on it.”
