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“Damn it, Asmo.” He growls, lowering me into his lap.
“Is he going to die?” Valeria’s voice is so calm, so warm, sonear.
“No. I’m just hoping what I gave him was enough to regenerate his shadow.”
I stare up at Griffin, too weak to speak, head loll back against his leg.
He shakes his head, lips pressed into a firm line. “Better safe than sorry.” With a sharp jerk, he unsheathes his dagger and opens a vein. Without time to process what’s happening, his wrist is pressed to my lips, the warm crimson liquid pouring into my mouth. I try to jerk away, but he holds me there, and I’m incapable of fighting him in this state.
His blood has a strange sweetness to it, clouding the metallic tang that it’s usually accompanied by. It's an odd flavor that’sdistinctly fae, full of magic—of power. It makes my tongue tingle as it slips down my throat. Reluctantly, I give in, doing my best to tell myself it’s wine. I can smell the crisp scent of his cologne, mixed with the earthy musk of the leaves the spell stirred along the forest floor.
Griffin brushes my hair out of my face, but his hand is so small, sodainty. Peeking an eye open, I find Valeria staring down at me, cradled in Griffin’s lap. It was her hand I felt. Every place her fingers touch seems to vibrate with some sort of laden energy, and that smile…
Valeria's voice breaks through my fading consciousness. "You did it, Asmo," she whispers, continuing to brush the hair from my face. "You just have to hang on. Please don't kill us both."
A chuckle rumbles from deep within my chest, my head lolling with the effort of laughter. "Calm down, Starlight," I rasp, my voice barely audible against the deafening roar in my ears, the darkness closing in on my vision. I grip her hand as if it were my lifeline. In many ways, it is. Our blood bond pulsates deep in my middle, beckoning me to cling to it with every ounce of strength I have left. “It’ll take a lot more than this to kill me. Monsters don’t die so easily.”
My eyelids flutter closed, tired of fighting. I should’ve broken our deal before I started the ritual. I shouldn’t have risked her to save my soul, but a dark, twisted piece of me feared she’d leave, and I’m just starting to more than tolerate her presence.
A soft, angelic voice is in my ear, the warmth of her breath dancing over my face. “That’s because monsters don’t risk their lives to bring people back from the dead.” Her fingers stroke over my cheek, causing my heart to beat a smidge faster.
Then my consciousness slips away.
17
Valeria
Sitting here, in Asmo'sroom, the silence is thick, suffocating even. The domed glass ceiling over his bed reveals the dark night sky, riddled with twinkling lights of the crystals that hang up there, like stalactites off the ceiling of our world.
I’d never expected to see this room. Especially not alone with him, but the only thing filling that stagnant silence is the faint whispers of his snores.
At least he’s breathing. No doubt about that.
It's a brutal reality that I’ve become entangled in somehow. All by living in an abandoned keep. Two days ago, I was worried about what I was going to eat, since I’d picked the berry bushes in the nearby woods dry. Now, I’m worried the man I’ve tethered my life to might kick the bucket.
Things have escalated far too quickly, and I’m not sure if I should be relieved to not be alone any more or worried I’ve gotten myself in over my head.
He’s the Prince of Death… He was banished for killing everyone inside an entire castle. We’re not talking about dozens, but hundreds of lives. Gone. Poof, like they never existed.
The velvet covered bench I dragged from the footboard to sit next to his bedside creaks as I shift my weight. I’m not even sure if I need to stay in this room, to stay near him, but I don’t want to risk doing my job as the tether wrong. So, I’ve sat here, alone with my thoughts, staring at his beautifully masculine face for the better part of two hours. It’s as if I’ve convinced myself that being here can prevent his soul from slipping away into the veil, like I have a say about it.
His lashes, dark as midnight, cast soft shadows on his cheeks. The steady slow rhythm of his chest rising and falling is hypnotic. I can’t help but wonder what else about this deal he’s kept from me or skillfully worded to hide the true implications. Our bond the deal made is invisible, but I can feel it every time I touch him, as tangible as the bench I’m sitting on. Though, it’s oddly satisfying to be linked to the deadliest man alive. Mostly, because he has to ensure I stay this way, because just as I’m at his mercy of death, he’s at mine. It’s a feeling of safety that I’m not sure how to process.
Even in the woods, when his eyes turned to obsidian voids, I’d felt safe. The last I’d seen him like that, it couldn’t be more the opposite. I’d been pinned against the wall of this very keep, heart thundering in my chest. Scared enough to stab him.
I’d never done such a thing in my life. But in those woods, as he embraced his demon half to breathe life back into those lost souls, all I felt was a deep, gnawing need to ease his pain, to help him.
Griffin slips into the room, drawing my eyes. The door closes with a soft click behind him. There's a mischievous glint in those turquoise eyes of his, but I’m more concerned about the bucket in his hand. "Well, everyone is settled in, though it would appear being reborn had a bit of an effect on the ghosts’ psyche. But the bright side is, I managed to summon that water you asked for."
"What do you mean?" I find my voice, returning my gaze to the steady rhythm of Asmo’s chest. If this was all for nothing, I have a sharp, persistent feeling that he won’t take it well when he wakes.
"Most have to learn how to speak again, but some are even having trouble understanding me. I've resorted to stick figure drawings for the last two hours." Griffin places the bucket of steaming water and the washcloth down beside the bench, then finds a seat in the upholstered armchair in the corner of the room, facing me.
I chuckle to myself. “It’s better than it could be.” I grab the rag, dipping it in the water and wringing it out. “Thank you for this. I doubt he'd appreciate waking up caked in mud."
Griffin raises an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You can play nursemaid if you want, but there’s no way in hell I’m touching his little piggies. I’ve seen enough feet to last me a lifetime."
I give him a look, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
