“I make ooze more.”
“Yes, but I think… Do it again, Daya.”
What is it he thinks? That it’s helping?
I spear my tongue back inside the narrow crevasse. This time, I cannot swallow. I reach for the small bowl beside the fruit basket, the one filled with water and a citrus wedge. I spit. Cathal’s grainy blood stains the water black.
His mouth twists. Before he can change his mind, I penetrate the wound with my tongue again, and…is it me or has it becomeshallower? I spit, lick, fill the gap with my tongue, then wipe the trickle of spit and blood. My heart begins to beat faster when I note that the web surrounding his wound has receded. I think it’s working but don’t dare share my impression with Cathal, for it would be cruel to give him hope if I’m wrong.
I lick and spit until my tongue barely pokes past the surface of his skin and his blood becomes silky and sweet. The muscle in his thigh remains hard, but the tremors have quieted. I flatten my tongue over his skin once more, heart lancing in my jaw when the puckered flesh smooths like the buffed sunstone beneath my knees.
Could I have managed to break the Crows’ new curse?
Chapter 14
Zendaya
Iseize the hem of my dress and ball it to wipe down Cathal’s leg. The wound has sealed, and the only hints of black on his thigh are the dark hairs peppering it. “How feel, Cathal?”
When he remains quiet, I crane my head to look up at him. His eyes are incandescent in the candlelit darkness, shinier than the wax stalks burning down to stumps, and glitterier than the ceiling with its myriad of mirrors.
“Cathal, how you?—”
The hand not warming his cock cups my jaw. “How doyoufeel?” He thumbs my chin, probably to clear it of any lingering unsightly smudge.
“I not one sick; you?—”
He releases himself and hikes up his pants, the leather whispering over his healed skin, then drops into a crouch in front of me, his fingers still cocooning my face. “Does your head feel light? Do your lips tingle?”
My lips buzz. My head, too. And my stomach churns.
“No,” I lie. When the skin around my tusk begins to tingle, I realize that my body is about to betray me. “I need swim.”The room spins. My forehead now burns. The Serpent within is overpowering my Human. “Cathal?—”
Arms scoop me up and carry me to my garden, then lay me gently down on the gritty soil. And then I’m floating. The brisk air makes my long hair flog my overheated cheeks. Is it the obsidian that’s clouding the careful control I have over my body, or is it Crow blood?
The instant liquid gloves my fiery skin, the pressure in my veins releases and my tusk shoots out. The transformation is so fierce and fast that my vision goes black and I sink, hitting the sandy bottom of the Amkhuti with a heavy thump.
The chill of the deep coats my scales and caresses my fins. It strokes the sensitive flesh around my tusk and sweeps down the length of my nose. Murmured words land against my buzzing ears like whispered promises spoken in the middle of a deafening storm.
I try to make sense of them, but they echo and skip without penetrating, echo and skip, echo and…
“EmMoti?”A callused hand smooths across my cheek. “Wake up.” It must be the queen, since she’s the only person who calls me that. Her voice thins before growing thick and raucous with a growl that includes Cathal’s name.
She must speak in Crow, because I cannot grasp what she says to him or about him. Is he even still there?
There…
Where am I?
Her palms sweep faster down my cheeks, her desire for me to awaken, urgent. “Wake up, emMoti. Wake up.”
I try, but my lids are heavy.
Too heavy.
I inhale.Gag. My throat closes around a swallow of liquid salt. I shove up onto my forearms so fast that my fingers sink into wet sand. I cough, desperate to ease the burn.
A hand grips my hair and spins it into a rope. “Deep breath, Príona.”
