Out for Blood
“Any change?”
“No. Nothing yet.” She tried to smile, but what did it matter? Mortalis didn’t need her to put a brave face on. She shrugged, then shook her head. “How am I supposed to know what to do? It’s not like I can check his breathing.”
Hesitantly, Mortalis reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I feel like this is my fault. I exposed you to the raptor. I knew what the risks were—”
“You knew that creature would do this to Mal?”
“Not exactly. I just knew the potential for things to go wrong was there.”
She went back to staring at Mal’s motionless form. “I don’t regret finding out what the ring of sorrows did to me, but this…” She sighed. “This is… hard. What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He will. I’m sure this is just a side effect of whatever the raptor did.” Mortalis heaved out a breath. “If you need anything, Nyssa and I are here for you.”
She nodded. “Maybe you could talk to Damian. I’m sure he must think I’m a psychopath. I saved him from Tatiana only to ignore him in favor of the vampire she used to be married to.”
“I don’t think he thinks that.”
She laughed, a sad, bitter sound even to her own ears. “I’ve seen him three times in the last week. At least he’s got that other comarré Dominic brought back to keep him company.” Even so, her guilt at abandoning her brother to the guesthouse was a small thing compared to what had happened to Mal because of her.
Damian told me you should take all the time you need, Velimai signed.
“Time. I’m starting to hate it.” She swallowed a nauseous rush of panic. “If Mal… if he doesn’t…”
“He will.” Mortalis walked to the windows and pulled the curtains back. “Sun’s down.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The sky was purple with twilight. “Mal loved this time of night. When the evening was full of possibilities.”
“Bloody hell.”
She and Mortalis turned at the same time. Mal sat up in bed, a steeliness in his eyes she’d never seen before.
“Mal, you’re—”
“You.” He glared at her, his eyes flashing from silver to the full-on black of the beast, then back again. His lip curled back. “You did this to me.” He whipped the coverlet back, jumped out of bed, and stared down at the pajama pants he wore. “Where the hell are my clothes?”
She pointed at the chair on the other side of the bed. “There. Mal, why are you acting like this?”
“Acting?” He yanked the loose pants off, shredding them, then grabbed his jeans and tugged them on. “This isn’t acting. This is who I am.”
“No, it isn’t.” She stood, wondering if she should put some distance between them. “This isn’t the Mal I know. You must still be sick.”
Velimai stayed in the corner, but Mortalis came to stand beside her. “Could be some residual effect of whatever the raptor did to him.”
Mal sneered as his head came through the neck of his T-shirt. “The raptor did me a favor.” He snatched his jacket and started for the door.
She took a few steps after him. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere I want to.”
“Mal, wait, we need to talk—”
He stopped, spinning to face her. “Do we? So you can explain why you’re holding me here?”
She backed up. “I’m not holding you here. I thought you’d want to be here. I’ve been taking care of you.”
He laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. You, taking care of me.”
Her stomach soured at the brutal tone of his words. “I love you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Spare me, princess.”
A shudder built along her spine. “You asked me to marry you.”
His face took on a hard, cruel set. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t love you. I don’t want you around me. And I sure as hell don’t want to marry my food.”
“That’s enough,” Mortalis snapped.
“You’re damn straight it is.” Mal turned and stalked out.
Her ability to breathe went with him. Chrysabelle reached for the chair she’d been sitting on, trying to find something to keep herself from collapsing. “I don’t feel so good.”
Velimai rushed forward and Mortalis grabbed her as she started to fall.
She leaned into him. Cold sweat rolled down her back. “What happened?”
Velimai pointed to the bathroom.
He nodded. “Let’s get a cold cloth for your neck.” He looped her arm around his shoulders and walked her into the bathroom, then helped her sit on the vanity bench. He ran the water while Velimai opened a cabinet, took out a washcloth, and handed it to him. He wrung it out and came toward her. “Lean forward.”
She did, running on some kind of autopilot that was happy to have someone tell her what to do.
Mortalis brushed her hair aside and laid the cool cloth on the back of her neck, then he kneeled in front of her and took her hands. “I know what happened.”
She nodded for him to continue, unable to manage much more.
“The emotion the raptor took from Mal. It had to be his love for you.” Mortalis’s voice broke and she looked up at him, causing the cloth to slip free. A thin line of liquid rimmed his lower lids. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.