"Celeste."
He's beside me before I can blink, hands hovering over my injuries like he's afraid to touch me, afraid of causing more damage. The contrast between the violence of a moment ago and the gentleness now makes my head spin.
"I'm okay," I manage.
"You're not okay. You're bleeding. Your shoulder is dislocated. You have at least three broken ribs, possibly more." His voice is ragged, barely controlled. "I should have been here sooner. I should have…"
"Maximus."
He stops. Looks at me. Really looks at me, past the blood and the bruises, to something underneath.
"I'm alive," I say. "That's what matters."
For a long moment, he doesn't speak. His hand comes up to cup my face, impossibly gentle, his thumb brushing blood from my cheekbone. The touch sends warmth through me despite everything, despite the pain, despite the corpses on the pavement around us.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispers, and his voice cracks on the words. "I was monitoring the feed, and I heard them surround you and I…" He stops, swallows.
"What about Julian's team?"
"Coming. I passed them on the way. I couldn't wait."
He couldn't wait. The man who plans everything, controls everything, calculates every variable. He couldn't wait.
Something in my chest cracks open at that. Something that has nothing to do with broken ribs.
"Can you stand?" he asks.
"I don't know."
"I'm going to lift you. It's going to hurt."
"Everything hurts. A little more won't make a difference."
He slides one arm under my knees, the other behind my back,and lifts me as if I weigh nothing. The movement jars my shoulder, and I can't stop the gasp of pain that escapes. His arms tighten around me in response, pulling me closer to his chest.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs against my hair. "I'm so sorry."
I let my head rest against his shoulder, breathing through the pain, surrounded by his scent and his strength and the steady rhythm of movement as he carries me away from the carnage. For this one moment, I let myself feel safe. Protected. Cared for.
Julianand his team meet us halfway back to the compound. I'm dimly aware of their shocked expressions, of hushed voices discussing what happened, of someone offering to take me from Maximus so he can deal with the aftermath.
"No." His voice is ice. "I've got her."
No one argues.
He carries me through the compound entrance, past guards who stare and servants who scatter, all the way to the medical wing. Dr. Dalton is already waiting, alerted somehow, with equipment prepared and assistants standing by.
"Set her down here," Dalton says, gesturing to the examination table.
Maximus doesn't move.
"Maximus." Dalton's voice is gentle but firm. "I need to examine her. I can't do that while you're holding her."
For a moment, I think he's going to refuse. His arms tighten around me, his jaw clenching with something that looks like pain. Then, slowly, carefully, he lowers me onto the table.
His hand doesn't leave mine.
"Three broken ribs," Dalton says after a quick examination. "Dislocated shoulder. Multiple lacerations, none life-threatening.Significant blood loss, but vampire healing is already working on the worst of it." He looks at Maximus. "She needs rest and blood. She'll be fine in a few days."
