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Gwen nodded, thankful for the glimmer of hope. “Yes. Anything.”
Rath looked at her for the first time, his crimson eyes staring deep into her own. “Let him be, Niah,” he told her, his voice calm and stern.
“If Sirus dies,” Niah argued, stepping up to square off with Rath, who towered over her like an ancient mountain, “the clan dies with him. If he survives—at least then he will live. One more of us will live.”
Rath glared down at her. “You know what he would choose,” he told her. “You would rob him of this death?”
Niah tore her eyes from him to gaze down at Sirus with more emotion than Gwen had ever seen her display before. For a moment, she looked utterly desperate. Then her face scrunched. “Yes,” she declared. “If it means he lives for the chance at another.”
Gwen didn’t understand the spoken and unspoken weight of the words between them, and she didn’t care. “Please,” she begged. “Let me try. I can’t just let him die.”
Not like this. Not for her. She’d promised.
A chill spread between her shoulder blades when Rath’s ominous eyes lingered on her face, searching for something. Sirus arched his back in pain, and blood seeped out of the corners of his eyes. Rath looked to Sirus. Then Niah. He nodded. “Very well.”
“Are you sure?” Barith asked Gwen, still holding her tight.
“Y-yes,” she breathed, desperate to try anything. “I’m sure.” Barith released her without another word.
Levian shifted to give her space as she flew to his bedside. “What do I do?” she asked, shaking from head to toe.
“Your hand,” Rath demanded, coming to the edge of the bed and reaching out his own. Gwen rested hers across his giant, dark palm, revealing the raw and dirty wound from Aldor’s sword. Barith spat an angry curse. The dark creature delicately wrapped his clawed fingers around her slight wrist and pulled the sleeve of her sweater and jacket up to her elbow. He pressed the pointed claw of his thumb into her skin, running it down her forearm. Gwen winced with pain as he made a finger-length cut. Blood pooled in the wound. “Hold it close to his mouth,” he ordered her.
Gwen held her breath as she pushed the wound against Sirus’s lips. Please work, she pleaded with whoever could hear her thoughts. Don’t let him die.
Sirus’s eyes darted open aimlessly—but he didn’t move his mouth. Blood began to trickle down his beard. Everything felt suddenly distant. As if she were floating above space and time. She’d promised him he’d be okay. He’d known it was a lie. He’d known he wouldn’t live. Gripping sadness suddenly shifted to fury. Sirus could be a stubborn, cold, infuriating ass, but she’d be damned before she let him die. Not yet. Where she found the energy and strength, she didn’t know.
Gwen slid up into the bed next to him before the others could stop her. She shoved her hand into his hair and yanked his head against her arm. Barith said her name and moved to pull her down but stopped short. Gwen’s skin tingled as a hazy blue glow spread from her wounds. That skitter of electric energy spread through her as she willed her magick to the surface. Willed it to help him. Sirus twitched beneath her.
“Drink,” she barked, pushing her arm further into him. His lips sprang to life, parting against her skin. Gwen felt his tongue sluggishly lap over the wound.
She let out a tearful gasp. “It’s working,” she breathed, unable to believe it herself.
His eyes flew open, black once more. Sirus’s hands suddenly shot up and clutched her arm closer, his teeth tearing deeper into her flesh. Gwen hissed in shock and pain.
Barith moved, but Niah stepped in front of him. “Not yet.”
He sucked with feral hunger against the gash in her arm. Gwen fought the blinding pain and clamped her lips together to stifle her cries. His teeth were like razors.
“Enough,” Barith snarled. “She’s mortal. He could?—”
“No,” Niah and Rath said in tandem.
Sirus’s tongue lapped greedily, and he bit deeper still. This time, Gwen was helpless to stop her sharp whimper of pain. His black eyes shot to hers at the sound. Recognition flared. With as much ferocity as he’d snatched her up, he threw her arm away. Gwen fell backward into Barith’s waiting arms, the blue glow of her magick now gone.
The dragon lifted her, cradling her close as everything began to blur. “Is he—” going to live, she tried to ask.
“Rest now, darling,” Levian said warmly as the room spun.
A vicious snarl was the last thing Gwen heard as she slid into the warm embrace of the darkness.
