Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Roxy

I was losing him by the second.

Each blink seemed to allow more of those purple spiderwebs to spread across his pale skin.

And while he tried to stiff-upper-lip it at the beginning, I could tell by the sweat on his brow and the tightness of the muscles around his lips and eyes that he was in agony.

But I… had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I didn't do healing magic. Not really. I mean, I created spells to ease period cramps, but that was as close as I got to healing.

I didn't even waste my energy on spells for my own cuts or anything. I just slapped on a bandage and let nature do its thing.

My grandmother was a healing witch. I used to watch her run around to catch a limping chicken, finding it had bumble foot or a fracture, then lovingly stroking the hen as she mixed a magic-infused salve for the bumble foot, or apply oils to the broken leg as she recited a spell.

Flesh to flesh, bone to bone.

This is the spell that I intone.

Restore the strength that was before.

Take what is broke and make it whole once more.

I could try to rework that for whatever this was affecting Nathaniel's flesh, right?

I had to try.

His stoic silence became groans, then deep, soul-wrenching screams.

I stared down at the greenery in my hand, the deep purple sap dropping from the torn edge and dripping lazily onto the ground.

It was a poison of some sort.

That… helped, I guess.

"Think, think ," I pleaded with my mind that was full of anguish as Nathaniel went from writhing to stock-still, his eyes opened wide in agony.

He wasn't going to last long.

But with what little strength he had left, what he had to offer was words of praise for me.

Blinking through the tears as his eyes shut, I forced my misery back and focused on the words. And the intentions behind them.

Poison purged from blood and pore.

Toxins leave, afflict no more.

Close the wounds that bleed and sore.

Take what is sick and make it well once more.

A poet, I was not.

But the words and meaning were accurate and heartfelt as I had the sudden urge to press the vine against the sore in Nathaniel's arm, then recite the spell again.

Before my eyes, I watched the vine fade from deep green to a flesh color, molding and softening to seal the wound.

The poison, a deep purple, turned to a blood red, leaching into the spiderwebs, brightening them, then fading them back into flesh tones.

I watched the cure slip across his skin the same way the poison had, healing what had been harmed, inch by inch.

My lip was trembling as I saw his skin become smooth and flawless once again.

Over his arm, chest, abdomen.

His neck.

The sides of his face.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I sat there, watching the final webs near his eyes fade.

But Nathaniel stayed still as a corpse.

Until, suddenly, his eyes flew open, his mouth parting as if he was taking a gasp of air as his body knifed upward off the ground.

A man, rising from the dead.

Again .

A loud sob escaped me as I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his body as I climbed into his lap, holding on like a woman adrift to a life preserver.

The loud sobs rose from deep inside as Nathaniel's arms wrapped around me. Softly at first. Then nearly squeezing the breath out of me, his head lowering to my shoulder.

"I'm okay," he said over and over, rocking me slightly as the tears refused to slow, let alone stop.

I didn't know I had such a well of sadness inside. But now that it was tapped, it seemed to flow endlessly.

But Nathaniel just sat there with me, held me through it, let me purge it before it drowned me from the inside out.

"You did it," he murmured, his lips teasing the side of my face. "I knew you could," he said.

His hands were sliding gently up and down my back, comforting me when he was the one who'd gone through a trauma.

"You were dead," I said, pulling back a bit to look into those ice-blue eyes.

"For many, many years now," he agreed, a ghost of a smile toying with his lips.

"That's not what I meant," I said, sniffling hard, knowing I probably looked like a splotchy mess but not caring.

"You saved me," he said, his hands moving from my back to softly wipe the tears still clinging to my cheeks.

"I crafted a really terrible spell," I confessed.

"Seems pretty good to me," he said, his arms going around me again, lazily wrapping around my lower back.

My gaze slid to his lips.

And I couldn't seem to fight the urge as I leaned forward, sealing my lips to his.

It was just a whisper of a kiss.

The softest of pressure.

A split second of contact.

But I felt the impact of it weaving its way through me, a warmth that spread across my chest, slipped into my heart.

And at that revelation, panic swelled in me again as I pulled back slightly.

"I accept your gratitude," I said in a playful little voice that I didn't feel with the rush of understanding moving through me. "Now, don't die on me again, okay?" I asked, getting to my feet and turning away from him as I tried to pull myself together.

Because… what the hell?

I mean, I didn't exactly have to experience it before to know it when I felt it.

I made a living writing little spells to help people find this very thing that was spreading through me.

It was absurd, of course.

I mean, no witch fell for a freaking vampire.

There was no denying it, though.

And lying to myself wasn't going to help the situation either.

It was probably just the stress , I assured myself.

We were in this magical labyrinth. We were, quite literally, fighting for our lives. Of course emotions were amplified. It was no wonder I felt, you know, connected to the man. Er, vampire. He was helping me through this stressful time.

Combine that and the unmistakable chemistry between us, and, yeah, I bet that probably did feel a lot like, you know, love.

It wasn't, though.

And I needed to keep a little space between us to remind myself of that.

"At least this is a spelled maze," I said, taking a few feet away. "Our clothes fix themselves."

"No luck with that," he said, making me turn to find him holding his jacket. But his shirt was still a ripped, bloodied pile on the ground.

Meaning he was bare to me from the waist up.

I hadn't really gotten a chance to appreciate his body when I'd been watching with horror as the webs of poison moved across his skin.

Now, though?

Yeah, there was some, you know, appreciation going on.

Because he was… really well-preserved for someone who'd seen three separate centuries.

Hell, he was well-preserved for a guy who'd just lived, like, thirty years.

That pale skin of his was stretched over wide shoulders, a broad chest, and deliciously indented abdominal muscles.

I had the most absurd urge to walk over there and trace my fingers into those grooves, to follow them down his stomach, then into those dips of a V near his hips that disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

Worried I might get caught ogling him, I looked around us. "You might want to put the jacket on, though," I suggested. "In case there are any other sharp things that want to infect you with their mysterious poison," I added.

Not because his body was too distracting to me.

Nope.

Not that at all.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed, slipping into his jacket but not bothering to button the front.

I tried to curl my hands into fists, but Nathaniel reached out, grabbing mine like we'd been doing since the beginning.

It felt like weeks had passed since we'd first exited the town car into the woods.

Maybe it sounded silly, but I was a different person now than I was then.

"Do you feel, you know, normal?" I asked as we, with nothing else to do, started to walk again.

"Surprisingly, yeah," he said, nodding. "There's nothing… lingering. I'm a little more drained," he decided after thinking a second.

"I think I aged a decade during that," I admitted.

"You did it, though," he said, squeezing my hand for emphasis.

"I mean, I stole my grandmother's spell and just changed some words."

"Still," he said. "You have been… impressive," he told me.

His words—ones he thought would be his final ones—echoed in my mind, making a warm, gooey sensation move across my chest.

"The encouragement has helped," I admitted. "And, you know, almost dying a few times is pretty motivating," I added, getting a small chuckle out of him.

We walked for what felt like ages before Nathaniel lifted his arm. When my gaze followed, I saw what he was pointing at.

"Great. Another door. What's behind it? A swarm of angry hornets?" I grumbled.

"Not so loud," Nathaniel said, wincing and dragging a little bubbly laugh out of me. "Ready?" he asked, reaching for the knob with his free hand.

"Nope. But here we go anyway," I said, sucking in a steadying breath, not sure how much more my overwrought, confused emotions could take. But knowing I had no choice but to keep moving forward regardless.

"I'm right here with you," Nathaniel said.

Then we stepped through the door together.