Twin cracks of lightning sounded directly above me, making me flinch violently.
“You know you can ask for help,” a familiar voice said dryly.
I rolled over onto my back and raised my head enough to see the two Strigoi on the ground, each of their heads sitting several feet away. My body shuddered and I dropped my head back onto the stone pathway before looking up at a pair of fiery orange eyes.
“Hey, Roth.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rynn
“You look like shit,” Roth grunted as two bloodred whips twisted through the air, wrapping around the Moroi’s forearms. The whips themselves were only about six feet long, but Roth had figured out a while ago, thanks to Draven, how to magically extend them with blood magic.
At this particular moment, I was very thankful for that trick.
“A run-in with Strigoi will do that to you.” I winced and wrapped my left arm around my middle. “You just gonna stand there and watch me bleed?”
They rolled their eyes and swept a hand through their hair, which was almost the same bloodred shade as their whips and shaved on both sides. “I remember you being tougher than this. Living with the Alphas has made you soft.”
“Say that again”—I sucked in a gasp as they knelt to help me to my feet—“when I’m not keeping my guts from spilling out everywhere.”
Roth chuckled and supported my weight as we hobbled inside. A small room greeted us, and Roth kept going until we made it into another room, where a mirror was tucked into the corner. “The pretty boys will take care of you. I’ll clean up here.” Roth all but shoved me through the mirror.
“Hate you,” I groaned as I crashed on the other side.
Two faces appeared above me. One with bright hazel eyes flecked with gold and golden-blond hair. The other with deep oceanic blue eyes threaded with red and dark hair shaved on the sides like Roth, but his hair went down to his waist.
“I’m assuming she’s talking about Roth,” the hazel-eyed man said. “Because she could never hate this face.”
“Shut up, Kier,” I growled. “One of you fucks better heal me.”
“Love how I’ve gone from a prince to ‘one of you fucks.’” The dark-haired one bent to swoop me off the ground
“You were never my prince, Draven,” I pointed out as he carefully carried me over to a cot against the wall and set me down.
“Fair enough.” His gaze swept over my naked body, but I didn’t feel the least bit weird about it. Samara’s mates only had eyes for her. “Strigoi?”
I nodded.
“Kier, babe? Want to work on the shoulder while I concentrate on her stomach?” Draven glanced at me. “Sorry. This isn’t going to be pleasant. I can knock you out if you want?”
“Tempting,” I said tightly, “but I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”
Draven shrugged before shifting his nails to claws and slicing open the back of his arm. Then he dipped his fingers into his blood before drawing a glyph on my abdomen just above the wound.
“Fuck.” I clenched my teeth, feeling something like fire pouring into my gut.
“Here you go,” Kieran said cheerfully before thrusting a piece of wood that had been whittled to a bit in front of my mouth. I unclenched my jaw to bite down on it. “Got yourself into quite the little scrap, wolf.” He tutted as he got to work healing the wounds around my shoulders.
Things got a little hazier over the next few minutes. When feeling came back to my right arm, I screamed, and Kieran had to hold me down so I didn’t undo all the work Draven was doing on my stomach. I stubbornly clung to consciousness because I needed to stay awake so I could talk to the Seelie King. Once I was done, I’d hightail it back to the Narchis stronghold and pass out in my bed for twelve hours.
Well, Bastian’s bed. His sleeping arrangement was better than my worn-out cot in the dungeon.
Roth stepped through the mirror a few seconds before Draven rocked back on his heels. “Done. Let’s flip you over and take a look at your back.”
I spat out the bit. “Give me a second.” Cautiously, I took a few slow, deep breaths. Oh wow, it was so nice to be able to breathe without excruciating pain. My back didn’t feel great, but as long as I didn’t move, it didn’t bother me all that much.
Moving was overrated.
