Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
ARABELLA
It was like all my worries had come true in a matter of seconds—Damian was hurt. Not just hurt, but seriously injured.
Injuries weren’t uncommon, especially when it came to missions, and I had been there next to each of them while they healed from previous missions, something that usually took less than a few hours.
But this couldn’t be classified as the ‘usual’ in any sense of the word…
Whatever weapon they had used on Damian was like nothing we’d seen before.
It hadn’t only lodged a bullet into him, but the bullet seemed to be burning through his body from the inside out, like it contained some type of fire.
I was fighting true panic as we rushed him back to the penthouse, the car jostling on the backroads as I cradled his head in my lap.
Behind us I could hear other cars, probably people from the base, but it didn’t matter.
The further we got away from the base, the less power they had.
I looked back to see they were already slowing down and giving up. It was a smart move.
Looking back down at Damian, my eyes watered, my mind replaying the image of Blackwell and Saint carrying him over the wall.
He had been so pale, and there had been so much blood…
there was still so much blood. It was soaking me, and I could see Damian’s eyes flickering as I tried to think through all the possibilities.
I could hear the others talking and going over the files, trying to find information on the weapon that’d injured him, but I think I knew the solution.
“We need to get the bullet out of him.” I looked at Blackwell, who for the first time since I’d known him, looked a bit shaken.
“I know, we will,” Blackwell stated quietly. “I don’t know how he’s going to react. His terror form may think it’s an attack since we have to cut him open to take it out… I can’t take the risk of that in an enclosed space with you, Arabella.”
Tears leaked down my face, and instead of doing what I wanted, which was demanding he cut him open and take it out right now, I stayed silent and trusted him.
I dipped my head and pressed my forehead to Damian’s, sending a prayer to the fates that he would be alright.
I didn’t think they listened to anything I said, but it was still worth a shot.
The love I had for Damian had always been clear to me, even when he had millions of barriers up between us, but at the moment it was overwhelming.
I wanted to do something—anything—to fix this, right now, but since I couldn’t, I retreated into the memory of the only other time I had seen Damian hurt, trying to remind myself that if he had recovered then, he could recover now.
“I’m fine, cherry blossom.”
Damian’s voice was firm, but I ignored him as I cleaned the wound on his back.
I did my best to not look at his muscular back, but I wouldn’t lie, it was a difficult task.
Although not too difficult considering the shard of glass I had just removed from his skin since he had refused to go to the clinic for it.
All because of a dominance fight… At least that’s what he told me it was about.
Who knew with these men. Seriously, it could be anything.
Okay, not anything—they usually had a good reason—but right now I never wanted to see violence again, which was ridiculous considering where I lived.
“Fine is having a small cut. Fine is not having a shard of glass in your back,” I grumbled as I finished removing the last few specks of glass. I could already see his muscles and skin healing, and I watched the process in a bit of awe.
“I don’t like you feeling obligated to do this,” Damian said, finally getting out what I had figured was bothering him about this.
“It’s not an obligation. I do it because I care about you,” I said, moving to stand in front of him while cleaning his neck, which also had a really solid cut to it. No glass in this one, thankfully.
Damian was quiet for a moment before he deflated. “Fine.”
I smiled at that, because Damian allowing someone to take care of him was a big deal.
His hand came to rest on my hip and waist as I stretched onto my toes to clean a cut on the side of his head.
I wanted the touch to be more than just a stabilizing hand, but I also wouldn’t let myself think like that.
I wasn’t lying to Damian—I was taking care of him because I cared… But also because I loved him.
I loved him, and the idea of him ever getting truly hurt made my heart shatter.
And that was what my heart was doing right now—shattering.
My eyes snapped open as the car came to a stop.
Blackwell eased Damian out of the car, and I slipped out and followed behind as Saint helped Blackwell.
I could feel the others behind us, but I couldn’t focus on anything aside from making sure Damian was alright.
My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest as we rode up in the private elevator, and when we finally reached the penthouse, they immediately took Damian to the first floor bedroom.
They laid him out on the bed, the white sheets staining with blood as I crawled onto the other side.
Saint went into the main room to discuss the new weapon with the others, Blackwell and Cy the only ones in here with me.
I knew what they were planning to do, and while I hated the idea of causing Damian any more pain, I knew it was necessary.
Damian was feverish and incoherent, murmuring nonsensical words as he held onto my hand like a lifeline.
A weird haze hit me, feeling almost dizzy, as I realized…
I was afraid. Authentically afraid. I had legitimately never been afraid before in my life, and right now I was terrified that Damian wouldn’t be okay anymore.
I couldn’t live in a world without Damian—that wasn’t a place that even existed in my mind.
I hissed as a strong sensation ran through me, and I began to wonder if this was how I was designed, so that the only true fear I could feel was my mates being harmed.
I inhaled sharply, realizing I was shaking.
I tried to keep focused as Blackwell rolled up his sleeves, Cy handing him a sharp medical-grade piece of equipment from their medical supplies.
I watched with wide eyes as Blackwell worked efficiently, cutting the skin that had started to heal over the bullet.
Usually terrors’ bodies would reject bullets, but not this one.
I grasped Damian’s hand tighter as Blackwell reached in and grabbed hold of the chunk of metal.
I hissed as he twisted it, revealing hooks that were leaking a substance out into the body.
I caught a small cry in the back of my throat as Blackwell cursed, twisted it hard, and yanked it out of Damian.
Damian emitted an anguished sound that I had never heard before, and I kept my head down, trying to not let a sob escape from my throat.
Everything about this was so damn messed up, and even though Cy immediately took the bullet from the room, I could smell the acidic substance that had spewed inside of him.
Despite there being a gaping wound in the center of his chest, Damian’s labored breathing instantly eased.
I squeezed his hand harder, praying that he would be okay.
I mean, this was Damian—he had to be. After a few moments, Damian’s skin began to heal, and while he was still chalky in color, his face, which had been twisted in pain, was relaxed.
I only felt a small sense of relief, but at this point I would take fucking anything.
Blackwell was talking to someone at the door, and I decided to try to make Damian more comfortable, taking off his shoes and belt.
They were small things, I knew that, but after I removed the top sheet that was covered in blood, pushing it off the side, I felt moderately better.
I even removed the protective vest he’d been wearing, which the bullet had torn right through.
The institute would need a new uniform design to combat this.
“Arabella—”
“I’m fine,” I whispered to Blackwell, who stood on the other side of the bed. “Just don’t ask me to leave him. I can’t do that.” I wouldn’t do that.
“Of course, love.” Blackwell’s voice was steeped in pain, but he didn’t disagree.
I put my head down on the pillow near Damian and stared at his now exhausted face.
I could see his eyes moving behind his lids as his magic began to cycle through different levels.
I honestly couldn’t tell you how long I stared at him, but I memorized each and every breath he took.
Each moment his magic felt weak and then grew stronger.
I could tell you when each thing happened, and I didn’t let go of his hand, no matter what.
Even when I went to loosen my grip, he tightened it.
It made me hope that even in this state, he knew I was here.
There was still a lingering amount of worry, though, because through our bond, I could feel that his body was moving slow to recover.
I wanted to fix that, but I didn’t know how.
I didn’t know how to use my magic to help his own—I didn’t even know if that was possible.
So instead of overthinking it, I closed my eyes and tried to find that part of me that I had channeled in the clearing.
A vision of green acidic tar filled my mind—the poison that came from the bullet. My energy, on instinct alone, rushed to collapse over it, turning the acidic fire to a soothing stream of water that moved through Damian’s body, refreshing it instead of burning it.
Almost instantly, I felt his magic flood back into power, and tears of relief fell from my eyes.
I knew I couldn’t touch his chest, so I held his hand and laid as close as possible to him, needing the reassurance that he was here, that he was breathing, the calm and steady pattern of inhales and exhales soothing me.
His dreamless deep slumber brought me to my own as I relaxed into the bed and surrendered to the thought that he would be okay.
I wouldn’t lose any of my mates. I wouldn’t let it happen. I may have wanted to figure this nonsense out with the humans, but I wouldn’t sacrifice them. Ever. I’d let the world burn for them.
I had no idea how long I slept, but eventually I was woken by the feeling of warm, rough fingers on my cheek.
I blinked my eyes open, and a smile spread across my lips to find myself underneath Damian.
Well, not underneath, but he was looking down at me with a vulnerability and love that shone through his every pore.
There was only one thing I craved to say to him, and I needed to say it before anything else.
“I love you.”
Damian’s body stilled as he examined my expression, and a deep wave of emotion filled his gaze as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against my own.
His forehead pressed against mine as he spoke quietly.
“I love you so damn much, Arabella. I…I didn’t know what was going to happen when I felt that bullet hit me, but all I could think about was you.
I didn’t want to break my promise to always come back to you.
I love you so fucking much, cherry blossom. ”
“I can’t lose you,” I said softly.
“That will never happen,” he promised.
Happy tears leaked down my face as I swallowed. “I used my magic to try to help heal you. I have no idea if it worked, but I had to try something—”
“It worked,” he whispered, “and I could feel you here the entire time, holding my hand… especially when Blackwell stuck his hand in my fucking chest.”
I let out a small snort. He smiled at my reaction and brushed a hand through my hair, examining my face as a small frown tilted his brow. “How much magic did you use? You look exhausted.”
“Gee, thanks,” I teased.
He offered me an arched brow, and I sighed. “I don’t know… All of it? I just wanted to help.”
“Thank you,” he whispered as his tail came up and brushed against my leg, wrapping around it possessively. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“Not the only one.”
Saint’s voice filled the space as Damian grunted. I looked over to see Death sitting on the edge of the bed with a smirk. “Arabella, have you recounted him with the tale of me carrying him over the wall with Blackwell?”
“I haven’t.”
“It was pretty epic,” Saint said. “Don’t worry, Damian, I wouldn’t have let you die—Arabella would have been sad. Can’t have that.”
“And that would be the other magic.” Damian sat up fully, grunting in pain. “Thanks for that.”
“What happened?” I asked curiously.
Saint offered me a small smile. “Because of the bond, I can siphon my magic to whoever needs it to help heal them. Damian wouldn’t have died, but if you hadn’t stepped in with your special sis meta powers, he may have been trapped in a very painful limbo of that burning hell the humans constructed. ”
I blinked before shaking my head. “I really need to learn more about what I am. And that weapon—What the hell was that?”
“That…” Razar said, standing in the door with the others, “is a problem.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded, knowing he obviously meant more than its existence.
“The weapons have been mass produced. We believe the reason the humans have been waiting to attack is because of War, who just left the base with a ton of them to head up north. Presumably to stage a war against the institute.”