24. LONNIE

24

LONNIE

THE SOUTHERN COAST OF NEVERMORE

B ut I couldn't run.

My feet had stopped working, all my attention completely fixated on the monstrous woman. I gaped up at her, completely frozen to the spot.

Ambrose stopped trying to drag me behind him, and instead picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

For once, I didn't protest.

Not because I was thrilled by being dragged around and carried, but because I couldn't seem to think of anything at all. That screeching wail of the creature was starting to sound enticing. Like music, heady and hypnotic. Begging me to come closer. To come swimming…

We ascended the hill of dry dunes, and darted into the trees. Immediately, the temperature dropped, and it seemed like the sun had been shut out. The needles of the pines were so thick, it could have been night and I would never have realized.

Ambrose dropped me back on my feet. He gripped my shoulders, and bent close to my face, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me. Don't move. Just stay right there and don't move a fucking inch."

I only stared back at him, my brain feeling a bit fuzzy.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he cursed under his breath. "...completely pointless."

Then another wail pierced through the forest. Instinctively, I stepped forward and Ambrose shoved me back, hard.

A split second later, the colossal bird-like creature swooped low over our heads, diving between the trees.

Its powerful wings beating against the air as it aimed straight for me. Its beady eyes locked onto mine, its sharp talons extended and glinting in the sunlight. I could feel the rush of wind as it swooped closer and closer, until its claws grazed my shoulder, leaving behind deep gashes that seared with pain.

With a swift and practiced movement, Ambrose drew his sword from its sheath and swung it with all his might. The blade sliced through the creature's neck, severing its head in one clean motion. Blood spurted out of the wound, splattering onto the ground and staining Ambrose's clothes. He stood there, panting and covered in gore, his eyes tracing over me.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, urgently.

I was, my shoulder was throbbing and I could feel blood running down my arm and chest. Though, that didn't bother me nearly as much as it should. The pain seemed to have jogged something in my mind, and I reached up tugging at my ears. "What the fuck was that?"

Ambrose looked relieved. "A siren," he said on an exhale. "Come on, we need to keep moving. Sirens live in flocks, and seeing one means there are three dozen more nearby. Keep running, I don't want to have to fight off all of them."

This time, I got up and sprinted alongside him into the dark woods.

"I thought sirens were supposed to be beautiful." I panted.

Ambrose chuckled hollowly. "They are, unless you threaten them. We must have landed near a nest."

It was all too familiar to run through the forest like this, with no light and no idea where we were going, sure the entire time that some great beast would descend on us and attack.

My heart raced as I pushed through the dense foliage, my feet pounding against the forest floor stumbling over rocks and slippery fallen needles. At least I wasn't alone. I could hear Ambrose's heavy breathing behind me the entire time, and knowing he'd kill anything that came at me kept me from constantly looking over my shoulder.

Finally, the deafening sirens faded into the distance.

Still, Ambrose didn't tell me to stop. I kept running, until the trees ahead seemed to thin. We burst out of the trees and onto a deserted dirt road, leading to the Source only knew where.

"That's far enough," Ambrose panted.

At his words, my legs buckled under me. All my exhaustion hit me at once and the adrenaline fled. The pain in my shoulder seemed to triple and I collapsed onto the cold ground, gasping for breath.

"Let me see your arm," Ambrose commanded, already reaching for my torn jacket.

I let him pull at the fabric and inspect the gashes on my shoulder. I was too tired to protest even if I'd wanted to.

"Why didn't the sirens affect you?" I asked through gritted teeth. "I kept thinking I needed to follow them."

"I've spent years training my mind's defenses," he said shortly, drawing back from me. "These wounds are shallow, and their claws aren't venomous or anything. You'll be fine…"

There was something in his tone that made me look up at him. "What is it?"

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I could heal it for you, but I don't have to. It's up to you."

My eyes widened with understanding. He was asking if I wanted blood.

Suddenly, I wasn't sure. I'd never been offered the choice before. My injuries had always been far too severe to even talk about alternate methods of healing. "I thought it was frowned upon to share blood with anyone other than your mate."

"I don't really care what's frowned upon."

True, I remembered. He'd even given blood to Bael only yesterday–something I still meant to ask him about. I supposed this would be the best moment if I was going to get answers about that.

"Fine," I said rashly. "I mean, yes. Please heal me."

Looking slightly surprised, Ambrose nevertheless dropped his bag and his sword on the ground and unbuckled the empty sword-sheath from around his waist–presumably so he could sit down without it getting in the way. Then, he sat down on the ground beside me and held out his hand in front of my face.

I stared at his hand blankly for a full ten seconds, nearly going cross-eyed, before I realized what was happening. He wasn't going to bite his own arm and just hold it to my mouth. No, he was expecting me to actually bite him.

This had never happened before.

A heat crept up the back of my neck, equally uncomfortable as it was intriguing.

I'd bitten Scion before, but that was different. And, in fairness, we'd always had sex either during or directly after. A casual bite felt wrong. Dirty somehow, and also deeply impersonal.

I'd gotten used to treating this sort of blood sharing as separate from anything intimate. It was like being fed medicine by a healer, except now that veil had been violently yanked away.

I might as well have crawled into his lap and bitten his throat for all the difference it made.

"Well?" Ambrose asked, looking slightly confused. "Are you waiting for something?"

Yes! I screamed in my head. I was waiting for one of us to do something rational and decide this was a terrible idea.

Instead, though, I took his hand in mine and pulled his arm closer to my mouth.

Immediately I realized how ridiculous this position was. I couldn't easily bite his wrist at this angle, and especially not if he wasn't going to make it any easier for me by shifting closer or turning his arm.

"Nevermind," I blurted out, dropping his hand. "I don't need it fixed that badly. I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," he pushed back up off the ground, and walked over to retrieve his bag. I thought he sounded slightly relieved.

Nonplussed, I made to get up as well, pushing myself up on my palm before I'd thought through the consequences. I let out an involuntary sound of pain, somewhere between a scream and a groan, as agony shot up my arm and into my shoulder.

Instantly, Ambrose was back on the ground in front of me. This time he was far closer, leaning over me, as if checking for new injuries.

Without my meaning to, my eyes darted to his tattooed throat. In my mind's eye, I could see myself sinking my teeth into the point just above his collarbone where his neck met his shoulder. I could practically taste it, that rush of power and magic and desire all at once.

My heart beat once, twice, a third time in my ears and neither of us moved. His dark gaze bore into me, like he was daring me to act on every insane impulse that I hardly even recognized as my own. These ideas that felt both instinctual and like someone else's thoughts projected into my mind.

Distantly, I became aware that this had nothing to do with my shoulder anymore.

The sound of clopping hooves against the road and the distant jingling of bells pulled me back to myself. I looked up, past Ambrose's shoulder, and could make out a dark shape in the middle of the road coming toward us faster than any horse I'd ever seen.

Ambrose looked over his shoulder and swore loudly. "Fuck me."

"What is it?" I asked, nonplussed.

"I'm hoping it's just a servant," he said darkly.

"A servant to whom?"

Instead of answering, he got up and reached down, pulling me to my feet by my uninjured arm. I squinted into the growing darkness, and could finally make out a carriage being pulled toward us by two enormous white reindeer. I blinked in surprise, but there wasn't time to ask any questions.

The carriage drew steadily nearer to us, then stopped directly in the center of the road in front of us. The driver shouted something to the deer–a command which had to mean "Stop" or "Wait" just by the context, but which I couldn't actually understand.

Then, a figure in a heavy maroon coat that reached all the way to the ground climbed down out of the carriage. They walked toward us, and pushed back a wide, white fur trimmed hood.

My first thought was that I didn't recognize this woman at all.

My second thought was that she was far too lovely to be staring at Ambrose like she knew him… well.

She was clearly fae, and had long chestnut brown hair and enormous honey brown eyes. Her face was slightly round, and her cheeks were bright pink from the cold. She walked up to us, looked at me for half a second, then smiled at Ambrose.

He swore again.