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“Hush. It’s gone. You are okay.”
She would be if the pain just went away. She bit her tongue when it intensified, sweating coldly. That coldness streaked toward her belly when she detected movement behind him.
“Isaiah!”
How Nicola found the strength to push him off and face the incoming attack, she didn’t know. But suddenly her nails were ripping flesh until Ven’s face was a disfigured, horrifying mess. When the man attempted to swing the sword again, Isaiah’s boot was there, kicking hard before he snatched the sword and—
“That’s overdramatic,” she declared, eyeing the decapitated head in distaste and relief. Then Isaiah was beside her again.
“Hush, I said. Save your energy.”
At his ushering, she willingly succumbed to being carried, liking that not straining her muscles lessened the pain a bit.
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted that first strike,” she murmured, pressing her lips against his chest. The numbness wasn’t enough to hide the beat of his heart, fierce and strong. Just for her. “I know you wanted him to remember them.”
“Are you kidding me? It doesn’t matter. You deserved the kill after all this. Darling, come here.”
She lay sprawled over him and felt even more relief. “You are the one moving me,” she pointed out.
“And you aren’t going to hush, are you?”
“I love you.”
Her body was cold, so cold. The steam room was a strange place to be, but she decided she was going to say it for as long as she was given a chance.
“I love you, too. Darling, I swear if this is some last-second confession because you don’t think you will make it….” His voice went hoarse, crazed. Nervous, because he loved her, too. He loved her.
Her pirate loved her.
“Blasphemy. I will make it,” she promised. “Wait for me.”
“I will, Nic. Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. Just a little nap.”
She felt the world tilting as he carried her again and moved, his voice soothing her with gentle, encouraging words.Ruby will help you. You will be fine. Hold on, my darling.
Nicola closed her eyes, holding on even while she fell asleep.
Chapter 18
“Did you find the culprit?”
Isaiah eyed the king of Ostrov Krov, who was younger than the previous one but just as unreadable. Perhaps all vampires were—except for Nicola, of course, because by now he could half-read her like a book. The king had his gaze on Nicola, waiting for her answer while he sat on his throne, decked out in satin robes.
Nicola, just as decked out in the prettiest dark green dress that accentuated the smokiness of her eyes, nodded. Her voice was formal when she spoke.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“We got rid of him. He was a danger to society, and bringing him here would have done more harm than good.” A pause. “And he tried to kill me first. It was self-defense.”
At the wordwe, the king’s gaze flicked toward Isaiah. Then it returned to her.
“Self-defense,” the man echoed.
“Yes. Self-defense.”
