The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(30)
Author: Gena Showalter

"I’m here. Tell me how to help you. Tell me what you need."

"Kill them. Kill the spiders." She spoke so quietly, he struggled to hear.

He brushed his fingers over her cheek as he glanced around the room. "There are no spiders, beauty."

"Please." A crystal tear squeezed past her lid. "Won’t stop crawling on me."

"Yes, yes, I’ll kill them." Though he didn’t understand, he continued to trail his hands over her face, then her neck, then down her arms, stomach and legs. "They’re dead now. They’re dead. I promise."

That seemed to relax her a little. "Food, wine. Poison?"

He paled, felt the color leach from his face until he was likely as white as Ashlyn. He hadn’t thought…hadn’t considered… The wine had been made for them, the warriors, not for humans. Since human alcohol did little for them, Paris often mixed in droplets of ambrosia he’d stolen from the heavens and hoarded all these years. Was the ambrosia like a poison to humans?

I did this to her. Maddox thought, horrified. Me. Not the gods. "Argh!" He slammed his fist into the metal headboard, felt his knuckles crack further and fill with blood. Unappeased, he punched the headboard again. The bed rattled and Ashlyn moaned in pain.

Stop; don’t hurt her. He forced himself to still, to breathe slowly, all the while willing himself to calm for the thousandth time that day. But the urge to brutalize was so dark, so bleak. So intense, it was nearly uncontrollable. Except for that brief time following his fight with Aeron, he’d been on edge all day and this only pushed him further. Any moment he might cross the threshold and cause irreparable harm.

"Tell me how to help you," he repeated.

"D-doctor."

A human healer. Yes, yes. He’d have to take her into the city, for none of the Lords had any medical training. There had never been a need for it. What if this doctor wanted to keep her overnight? He shook his head. That, he couldn’t allow. She could tell the Hunters what she’d learned here, what she’d seen – how best to defeat the warriors. What bothered him most, however, was the fear that someone could take her, hurt her, and he would not be able to save her.

He would have to bring a doctor here.

Maddox brushed another soft kiss on her cold, cold lips. Again there was a jolt – this one more muted than the last, as weak as Ashlyn herself. His hands curled into fists. "I’ll find you a doctor, beauty, and bring him to the fortress."

She moaned, and her long lashes finally fluttered open. Amber pools of pain stared up at him. "Maddox."

"I won’t be long, I swear it."

"Don’t…go." She sounded on the verge of tears. "Hurt. Hurt so bad. Stay."

The need to give in and the need to fetch help warred inside him. In the end, he could not deny her. He strode to the door and shouted, "Paris! Aeron! Reyes!" The sound of his voice echoed off the walls. "Lucien! Torin!"

He didn’t wait for them, but stalked back to the bed. He intertwined his fingers with Ashlyn’s. Hers were limp. "What can I do to ease your pain?"

"Don’t let go." She gasped out a shallow breath. Red striations streamed from the corners of her mouth. Was the poison spreading?

"I won’t. I won’t." More than anything, he wanted to draw the pain away from her and into himself. What was a little more suffering to him? Nothing. But she was… what? He didn’t have an answer for that.

Groaning, she clutched her stomach, rolled to her side and curled into a ball. Maddox used his free hand to brush her hair behind her still-damp ear. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Don’t know." She watched him, expression glassy. "Going to… die?"

"No!" He hadn’t meant to shout, but the denial had escaped on a burst. "No," he repeated more softly. "This is my fault and I won’t let you."

"On purpose?"

"Never."

"Why then?" she breathed. Groaned again.

"Accident," he said. "That wine wasn’t meant for your kind."

Whether she heard him or not, she gave no indication. "Going to – " she gagged, covered her mouth with her hand " – vomit."

He grabbed the empty fruit bowl and held it out. She pushed herself to the edge of the bed and emptied her stomach. He clasped her hair back, away from the line of fire.

Was purging herself good or bad?

Ashlyn fell back onto the mattress just as Reyes and Paris raced into the room. Both men looked confused. "What?" Reyes demanded.

"What’s wrong?" Paris asked. He was sweating, the lines of strain deeper around his eyes.

Reyes’s arms were bleeding again, his hand swollen, and he held two blades, clearly ready for battle. His gaze took in the scene and his confusion intensified. "Need help with the death-blow?"

"No! The wine… the ambrosia Paris puts in it. I left it for her." The confession spilled from him, dripping with guilt and desolation. "Save her."

Paris wobbled, but managed to remain upright. "I don’t know how."

"You must! You’ve spent countless hours with humans!" Maddox barely leashed a deafening roar. "Tell me how to help her."

"I wish I could." He mopped his moist brow with the back of his hand. "I’ve never shared our wine with others. It’s ours."

"Go and ask the other humans if they know what to do. If they don’t, tell Lucien to flash into the city and find a doctor to bring here." Death was the only one of the warriors who could move from one place to another with a single thought.

Reyes nodded and spun on his heel.

Paris said, "I’m sorry, Maddox, but I’m at my limit. I need sex. I heard your call from the front door and came here instead of leaving. Shouldn’t have. If I don’t get into the city soon I’ll…"

"I understand."

"Make it up to you later." Paris stumbled out and disappeared around the corner.

"Maddox." Ashlyn moaned again. Sweat trickled from her temples. Her skin was still laced with blue, but was now so pallid he could see the tiny azure veins that swam underneath. "Tell me… a story. Something… mind off… pain." She closed her eyes, those lashes casting shadows on her cheeks again.

"Relax, beauty. You should not be talking." He raced to the bathroom, emptied and cleaned the bowl and swiped a towel. He wet it down and returned, setting the bowl beside the bed – just in case. Her eyes were still closed. He thought she might have fallen asleep, but she tensed as he bathed her face. He settled behind her, unsure of what to say.

"Why did…friends stab you?"