“I didn’t mean what I said, none of it, you must know that?” He brushed back her hair from her blood-streaked face. The raw wound on her cheek had stopped bleeding…it would with no heartbeat, and his entire being shuddered in pain. He laid an unsteady hand over the gash, sealing it, along with the puncture wounds on her wrist.
“Come back to me,a leannan,” he begged, his throat tight with dread. “I don’t care if it’s for a week, a damn day—” Eyes burning, he lowered his forehead to hers, but instead of her beautiful lilac scent, the coppery smell of blood filled his lungs as she lay silent in his arms. “Just give me a chance to say I’m sorry.”
“Ready?” Aethan warned.
Blaéz didn’t move, just nodded, his gaze fixed on Darci’s still face. Her body convulsed again. At the charge of power rushing from her into him, Blaéz ground his jaw at the blow and his own heart stuttered as if it would give out.
That didn’t stop him. Lowering his lips to her cold ones, he blew into her mouth. Once. Twice. He breathed his life into her. Her chest rose then fell, but he couldn’t restart her heart. Unadulterated terror swelled in him. “I’m not giving up, you hear me? Shock her again,” he ordered Aethan.
“Blaéz,” the warrior said, voice strained.
He glanced up. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
“Because I could very well kill you with the next damn shock! You need to let go of her now—”
“C’mon, Celt, let go,” Týr backed Aethan. “You’re shaking like a fucking leaf.” He grabbed Blaéz’s arm, trying to tug him away from Darci.
He shrugged Týr off, his hold tightening on his mate. “I’mnot…letting…her go.” Menace in his every word. “Now do it!”
After another second of hesitation, Aethan put his hands back in place and let his power charge through. Darci’s body jerked. The bolt sent Blaéz clear across the grassy ground, dropping him flat on his back, unable to breathe. Oblivion hovered. Darkness. Shouts sounded from somewhere. Something pressed on his chest…a mouth on his.
“Dammit, Celt, breathe! You know the Empyrean’s power can take even us out!” Týr.
Blaéz no longer cared. Nothing mattered without her.
A faint gasp echoed into the descending blackness. A sound he longed for so desperately. Like a lifeline, Blaéz held onto it, his lungs filled with air once more, pulling him back.
Darci…
She breathed again.
His eyes snapped open. He found Týr leaning over him, pumping on his chest. “Thank fuck!” the warrior growled, yanking him up. “If you forced me to put my mouth on yours again, I would have killed you myself.”
On trembling legs, Blaéz shoved Týr off and stumbled to Darci. He fell on his knees beside her. “Darci?”
Her eyes flickered open briefly. Heart-wrenching relief flooded him and his throat tightened with untold emotion. His gaze blurred. His body loose and unsteady, he hauled her into his arms and buried his tear-damp face in her hair.
“Blaéz—” At the shaken tone, he looked up. Aethan’s eyes were like gray holes in his pale face. “I scanned her. She—her soul isn’t whole.”
“I know.” Blaéz pressed his lips to Darci’s brow. She turned her face into his chest and slipped into sleep. “I’m going to fix that.” How, he had no idea.
Sweeping her into his arms, Blaéz rose and dematerialized them back to the castle.
In their room, he laid her on the bed, undressed her, and put her in one of his t-shirts. Her color had improved, but her cheek, though healed, was still smeared with dried blood.
From the bathroom, he swiped a towel off the rail, wet it, and headed back to the bed. Gently, he cleaned her. Tossing the terry cloth aside, he tucked the covers over her and sat on the mattress. Even though her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, Blaéz didn’t dare move his gaze off her, terrified she would take her last breath.
He picked up her cool hand and held on tight, his thumb stroking the engagement ring he’d given her. He pressed his lips to her fingers. He’d gotten his soul back, his head free of the oily voices and roiling darkness, but at what price? In front of him lay his beautiful mate still on the verge of death.
He was responsible for all this shit—opening a fucking portal? Why the hell would he do something that dangerous with Darci there?
Of course, that damn demoness. He’d picked up bits of Darci’s conversation with Maloch’s wretched sibling during the fight. She had spiked his drink, starting this downward spiral.
How could he ever make up for how badly he’d screwed up?
Blaéz didn’t know how long he sat at Darci’s side and watched over her. At some point, he’d lowered his head to the pillow next to hers, holding on to her hand.
As the dark skies finally gave way to a gray morning light, Darci stirred.
