“Holy shit, it worked!” a voice says, bubbly and cheerful in a way that I know it cannot be my Lily. She’s never sounded like that one moment of her entire life. Of that, I am sure. I open my eyes, confused, only to see a human face swimming in front of me, where I expected one of my ancestors.
“I pulled them out. I did it!” the woman shouts, a green face swimming into my vision.
“Oh, he looks like shit,” the female says, her nose wrinkling. “We need like, serious painkillers over here,” she yells. “STAT!”
“They don’t know what stat means,” the first woman mutters.
I try to snarl, try to protect her from these newcomers. My Lily is still leaning against me, so still that I know that only one thing can be true.
I have lived.
But the damage I did to her was irreparable.
I scream a wordless sound, trying to flex my talons and attack anyone who gets close to her, because they’re trying to take her away from me.
Murmurs, words meant to be reassurance follow, as more creatures stream into the room, holding me down.
They will take my female, and— “I WILL NOT ALLOW IT,” I bellow at them.
Then something sharp bites into my neck, and everything goes black.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
LILY
I’m half dozing,half awake, holding what the women here have told me is called a chelda—a weird watermelon cucumber-like spritzer drink. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I woke up from the medicated coma they put me in.
I blink, trying to catch my bearings and figure out what’s woken me up— when I hear Bex shout again.
“He’s waking up. He’s waking up. Oh shit—no, he’s waking up. Lily, Lily, he’s waking up. He needs you; he needs to see you or he’s gonna freak out. We’re gonna have to put him under again.”
I leap out of the chair, the glass of chelda falling to the floor, smashing into a million bits, the cool liquid inside splashing against my ankles as I run for Zan’s sick bed.
I shove Bex aside and ignore her sounds of protest as I fling myself onto Zan.
His wing is supported by tethers in the ceiling in a strange posture that the doctors here on Sueva insist will help his wing bones set correctly.
The membrane is miraculously already healing, translucent and too thin in the ravaged parts from the worm’s toxin, but I don’t care about any of that right now.
All I care about is my mate, who’s slowly opening his eyes, long white lashes fluttering as he stares up at me.
“You’ve joined me in the afterlife,” he says. “I do not deserve this.”
I can’t help but break into a huge grin, tears dropping onto his face as I straddle his body.
“She’s gonna make him sick again,” Bex mutters.
“Let’s leave them alone,” a deep male voice says—probably Bex’s mate—and a door shuts behind them.
“You’re awake,” I tell him. Wet warmth tracks down my cheeks.
“I killed you,” Zan says. “That is my?—”
I slap him across the face.
He blinks up at me.
