“Bael,” I say more urgently, carefully turning him onto his side.
His eyes flutter open, the usual vibrant green dulled with pain. “Ashley,” he rasps, voice barely audible. “You shouldn’t be here. Hunters...”
“What happened?” I demand my shadows already extending to examine his injuries more thoroughly. They report multiplewounds, all inflicted with silver weapons—deadly to vampires like Bael.
“Ambush,” he manages, wincing as he tries to sit up. “Malcolm’s specialists. They’ve been... tracking me since my arrival.”
I help him lean against a fallen pew, trying to be gentle despite the urgency pounding through me. “We need to get you out of here. Somewhere safe.”
A bitter smile touches his bloodless lips. “Nowhere is safe now. The chapel was... supposed to be a sanctuary. Old magic protections.”
“Which they obviously bypassed,” I note, my shadows confirming at least five distinct Hunter energy signatures lingering in the chapel. “How badly are you hurt?”
Instead of answering, he reaches up to touch my face, his fingers ice-cold against my skin. “You need to leave, Ashley. If they return?—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I interrupt, stubborn determination hardening my voice. “Not until we’ve dealt with these wounds.”
My shadows move without conscious direction, spreading across his back to assess the damage. Where they touch the silver throwing stars, they report searing pain, but continue their examination despite it. The silver is preventing his vampire healing abilities from working, keeping the wounds open and leaking dark blood that looks almost black in the dim light.
“The silver must come out,” I say, reaching tentatively for one of the stars embedded near his shoulder.
Bael catches my wrist with surprising strength. “No. The pain will... make me dangerous to you.”
I meet his eyes steadily. “I trust you.”
Something flashes across his face—gratitude, fear, and something deeper I’m not ready to name. After a moment, he releases my wrist with a quick nod.
“Be quick,” he says. “And be ready to run if I lose control.”
My shadows form precision tendrils as I prepare to extract the first star. They wrap carefully around the silver edges, creating a buffer between the toxic metal and Bael’s flesh. With a deep breath, I grasp the star and pull in one swift motion.
Bael’s entire body goes rigid, a strangled sound escaping his throat. His shadows flare wildly, lashing out in pain-driven response before he regains control, forcing them back with visible effort.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, dropping the bloodied star to the floor.
He doesn’t respond, just gives another tight nod for me to continue. Four more times I repeat the process, each extraction seeming to drain more of his remaining strength. By the last star, he’s barely conscious, his skin ashen and eyes glazed with pain.
My shadows work instinctively, spreading across the open wounds to slow the bleeding. They form a kind of pressure bandage, darkness made semi-solid against his torn flesh. The contact creates the familiar electric connection between our shadows, but his respond weakly, lacking their usual vitality.
“It’s not enough,” I realize aloud. The wounds aren’t closing despite the silver’s removal. “You need blood to heal properly.”
His eyes snap to mine, suddenly more focused. “No.”
“You’re dying,” I counter bluntly. “I can feel it through our shadows.”
“Better than the alternative,” he says, voice faint but determined. “The mate bond... if I take your blood now...”
I understand his concern immediately. Blood exchange would start the formal mate bond, creating a permanent connection far beyond what our shadows have already established. Under these desperate circumstances, it wouldn’t be a free choice, but coercion through necessity.
“There must be another way,” I say, looking around the chapel as if a convenient blood bank might materialize in the corner.
Bael’s hand finds mine, his grip alarmingly weak. “There isn’t. Either I feed from someone, or I won’t recover before dawn.”
Dawn. When Hunters would certainly return to check if their trap worked. When Bael would be at his most vulnerable, unable to shadow-walk to safety in direct sunlight.
My decision forms instantly, though I try to sound casual as I push my sleeve up. “Just enough to heal, then. Not a full bond.”
His eyes widen slightly. “Ashley, you don’t understand. Once begun...”
