“Chelicerae.” She frowns. “Most people call them mandibles, but that’s stupid. I’m not a fucking ant.” Good thing I asked, because that’s exactly what I would have called them. Why does my lack of scientific knowledge keep biting me in the ass?
Resker’s blurry face appears above us, her eyes glittering with excitement. “You’re both in. Now get out of my cage so we can mop up the blood. The others will keep fighting, but I want you two rested and ready for your first fights next week. Welcome to the Mouth of Hell, ladies.”
EIGHT
Traditionalnish thatshabetrothal vow:
The magic in my heart—my most cherished gift—will always come second to you.
MALACH
The locks slide free one by one while I sit rigidly on the couch. They’re bickering, and Celine’s voice is tight with... pain? My control snaps, and I surge to my feet as the door swings open. Her shirt is soaked with blood, and the thick, shapeless fabric tied around her waist does a terrible job of hiding it.
“You’re hurt,” I say.
“She is.” Luca nods at me, the yellowish tint to his eyes telling me this argument has been going on for a while. I knew I should have followed them.
“I’m fine—fuck.” Celine careens to one side, her body jolting in pain because she lied to me. “I mean, I will be fine,” she corrects herself sullenly.
“You’re right. You’ll be fine once Alistair gets here with thepotion.” Luca wraps his arm around her waist, supporting her weight and ignoring her annoyed grimace.
“I already told you, no potions,” she snarls. “I don’t want Alistair here, and I don’t want to owe him for anything else. My ledger is already dripping red where he’s concerned thanks to Malach’s murder attempt.”
“Judgment,” I mutter. “It was judgment.”
“It was fucked.” She glares at me, her skin paler than usual with two pink streaks slashing across her cheeks, before setting her sights on Luca. “Since you’ve decided to interfere with my decisions, you can help me clean the blood off.”
“You can’t dance tonight, baby?—”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Unless...” Luca draws the word out obnoxiously. “You take Alistair’s magic potion.”
“He could be trying to poison me.”
Luca rolls his eyes. “Yeah right. He’d rather walk naked down the Strip at high-fucking-noon. Go get in the shower and quit being stubborn.”
My eyebrows shoot up when her lips curl. Is she enjoying riling him up? Determined not to be left out again, I follow them down the hall, through the bedroom that smells strongly of my wife, and into the bathroom.
Celine notices me, and her brown eyes narrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ascertaining the full extent of your injuries, as I vowed to always do.”
Celine sags and stumbles. I reach for her, but Luca is already there, grumbling under his breath, with a wild look in his eyes. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, baby. Stop arguing with Malach and get in the fucking shower before I lose my fucking mind.”
“You’re bossy,” she says, slurring her words. Her eyes, glassiernow, focus on me with difficulty. “And you—using our betrothal vows to get your way. That’s shady.”
“Malach, help me,” Luca says. “I don’t like this. She should be healing by now. I need to see what we’re dealing with.”
Fingers trembling, I reach for the hem of her shirt and carefully pull it off, forbidding my eyes from wandering.
Celine’s head lolls to the side and falls against Luca’s chest. Her hair, like burnished silken flame, grazes my forearm. It’s the most intimate position I’ve ever been in with her. It’s ruined as soon as I catch sight of the deep gouges below her ribs.
“What weapon did this?” I demand, looking to Luca for answers.
“Spider legs, three of them,” he grunts, flipping the water in the shower on. “Hold her up, would you?”
I nod, sliding my arms under Celine’s to support her weight. She nuzzles my neck, but she’s mostly unconscious. I sigh. I hate her wounds but understand her need to fight. If Celine hopes to stand against her father personally or on behalf of our people, she must be at her strongest.
