The storm didn’t hit until we’d made it out of the city. The trees rose up high as we left civilization behind, ducking beneath the twisting branches of the Autumn woods. Thunder rumbled overhead as bulbous clouds beat down hail the size of oranges. Rourke pulled me to the ground and launched himself on top of me, shielding my head from the onslaught of the brutal ice.
My heart hammered hard in my chest as I clung to the ground, fingers digging into the soaked earth. The storms were growing worse. The hail was violent and unrelenting. Lightning shot through the sky, and a cry of fear ripped from my throat. I couldn’t help but remember what had happened to the Summer guard. This storm could grow worse, and it could grow worse very fast. And we had nothing but the trees to keep us safe.
“We need to get out of this storm,” Rourke murmured into my ear. “Do you trust me?”
Widening my eyes, I twisted my head to face him. “Of course I trust you.”
Rourke’s warm and comforting body was suddenly gone—he was on his feet within seconds. As the hail slammed into the ground all around us, he bent over and scooped me up into his arms. His feet began to pound against the pockmarked dirt as his lithe and impossibly fast body twisted and turned, dodging the furious attack from mother nature.
Up ahead, a small stone building melted into view. Rourke sped straight for it, throwing open the steel-encased door and storming inside just as a heavy, unrelenting rain poured down from the skies above. He heaved in great breaths as he lowered me to the floor, and then turned to latch the door behind us.
All I could do was stare at him. Rourke, as it turned out, was impossibly fast. I’d seen flashes of it before but never like this. The way he could move…my eyes slid down the back of him, and I gasped. From where he’d been protecting me, he’d taken a heavy beating from the hail. The ice had sliced through his cloak, as well as the shirt underneath. Blood was smeared everywhere, so much so that it was impossible to tell just how badly he’d been wounded.
I stood on shaky legs and crossed to where he was bent over, his forehead pressed against the hard stone wall. “Rourke. You’re hurt.”
“I know. But at least you’re safe.”
My heart flickered, and I reached out to place a timid hand on his shoulder. I expected him to flinch. He always did. But not this time.
“My safety is not more important than yours.” I took a small step closer. “Please let me look at your wounds.”
He stiffened and shook his head. “I know what you want to do, and the answer is no. I remember what happened when you healed Kael. It made you impossibly weak, Norah. You’ve already put yourself in enough danger because of me.”
Oh, Rourke.
“At least let me clean your back,” I said. “The normal way. No magic allowed.”
For a long moment, I didn’t think he would agree. But his body had begun to tremble, a sign that he wasn’t as immune to his wounds as he wanted me to think. Rain had soaked through all our clothes, and a chill had come along with the storm. His wounds needed some attention, or things were going to get a lot worse.
“Okay. Just cleaning though.” He pushed away from the wall and eased down onto a burlap rug that was spread across the floor. With trembling fingers, I leaned over him, carefully pulling his matted shirt away from his back.
He flinched, but that was the only sign of pain. His back, on the other hand, told a far different story than the calm, controlled expression on his face. He’d been cut—badly—in at least three places. I used his shirt to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the wounds kept pouring, despite how many times I dabbed them dry.
“Rourke,” I began.
“Norah, don’t.” He leaned up on his elbow to face me, his golden chest glistening under the pale light streaming in from outside. I know what you’re going to say, but you can’t.”
“I don’t think we really have a choice here. You’re losing a lot of blood. If I don’t stop it, things are going to get a lot worse.”
I didn’t know how worse exactly. I wasn’t a doctor. I didn’t know how this kind of thing worked. Would he pass out first? Would he be able to walk? Or would he just…slowly fade away if we didn’t stop the bleeding? I’d never read a manual on this kind of thing. All I knew was nonstop, profuse bleeding would lead to terrible things.
Before he could make another argument, I placed my hands on Rourke’s skin. He stiffened, and his eyes went round. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Norah.”
I closed my eyes and breathed heavily in through my nose, sucking in the leafy scent of him. Healing was never easy. It had consequences. The magic of the world demanded a price. It required energy and life, just not the life of the one being healed. The magic wanted mine. I zeroed my thoughts in on Rourke, focusing my mind on the horrible gorges on his back. Heat poured down my arms and pooled into my hands. I whispered something out loud, but I didn’t know what.
And then the heat left me. It entered Rourke, fleeing from my very soul. Sucking me dry. Leaving me with nothing….but darkness.
* * *
My head felt split in two when I awoke to the sight of an ancient stone ceiling and the roaring sound of rain and thunder. Firelight danced along the walls, and I groaned as I pushed myself up from the floor.
Rourke was sitting just beside my feet, his back—now free of marks—curved as he drew aimless circles into the dusty floor. He glanced up when he heard me move, his eyes sad and hollow.
“You should rest,” he said quietly. “It’s going to take some time for you to recover from that.”
“You seem angry.”
A heavy sigh. “Anger is the wrong emotion for what I feel. I asked you not to heal me, Norah. The last thing I want is to cause you pain, and now look. I can see you’re in physical grief from the look in those eyes of yours.”
