Chapter 15 Lemon
Lemon
Oh gods! I dive out of the tree as the horses crash into Furyon, knocking him to the ground. I can’t even see him under the pile of galloping bodies. Leaping out of the fir, I dive to the ground and flare my wings wide. The horses scream and part around me.
Furyon’s flat on his back, eyes rolled into his head with a gash at his temple and another down the muscular column of his neck. He’s bleeding profusely from the neck wound, blood pooling beneath him on the rocks.
With a desperate cry, I haul him into my arms and bullet into the sky.
I claw past the tree line but stay low, praying for the lightning and thunder to steer clear of us.
My cottage is closer than his, so I push my wings as hard as I can.
Furyon’s blood streams over my fingers, coating them in sticky warmth as I sob.
Gods, he’s bleeding too much too fast. Is there even a damn black witch healer in this town?
I lift my wrist and comm Oz, but when he answers, I can’t hear him over the pounding of the thunder.
After dropping out of the sky, I disconnect and drag Furyon through my door and lay him quickly and carefully on the floor.
I comm Oz again, shouting for him to bring someone—anyone—while I try to stop the bleeding.
The scent of Furyon’s blood fills the room, bursting across my senses with how rich it is.
My nostrils flare, eyelids flashing white at how that smell makes me feel.
Predatory instinct wars with protective need as I drop beside him and shove a kitchen rag over the wound, putting hard pressure on it.
It’s deep and spurts blood, soaking the rag through as I cry out, screaming for help.
I comm Bluebell next, yelling for her to come. Then I comm the sheriff. I’ll comm every damn monster in this town if I have to. But a long minute, then two pass as Furyon’s life force drips out of the wound, pooling on the floor beneath him.
Desperation makes me do it. That’s what I tell myself as I lurch forward and lick a path over the wound, sucking and cleaning it with my tongue.
His blood pulls a groan from the depths of my chest. He’s fire and ice, smoldering intensity and the sharp tang of summer-fresh rain.
I snarl as I lap at the wound. The blood flow is slowing, but so is his heart.
Voices echo as someone throws my door open. I spin, snarling at whoever’s interrupting my feast. Relief fills me at seeing Bluebell and Oz standing there with the giant minotaur male, Varek.
“Please,” I croak, stepping aside with the blood-soaked rags in my hands. “Please, help him.”
Bluebell pushes between Varek and Oz, who stare at me in horror. Bluebell drops to a knee and examines Furyon, then looks up at me with confusion on her face. “Lemon? I don’t see a wound here. Are you…are you sure he was hurt? I see the blood, but…”
I look between Varek and my friends in shock. “Of course I’m sure! Look!” I drop the rags as I fall to my knees, pointing at Furyon’s neck.
He’s covered in blood. So’s my floor. But where it flowed freely, the wound is gone. His skin is smooth and unmarred, apart from being sticky and wet. I fall over top of him, prodding at the skin as I sputter.
“It was here. It was right here! How else do you think he passed out? Why else would I be covered in blood?”
Varek drops down next to Bluebell. “We don’t know, Lemon. You called and said he was bleeding to death. But…there’s no wound. Bluebell’s a black witch, a healer, and I’ve assisted black witches before. As far as I can see, there’s nothing to heal here despite the blood.”
No wound.
Realization slaps when he frames it that way.
Furyon was wounded. I saw it with my own eyes. But when I tasted his blood, when I prayed for healing, the wound disappeared.
There’s only one possible explanation for it.
Furyon is my mate, and my mouth healed him.
I fall onto my ass as Varek looks between Bluebell and Oz.
The big minotaur jerks his head toward my bedroom. “No matter what happened, he was obviously injured at some point. Let’s get him into the bed and cleaned up. Hopefully he’ll come to, and he can tell us what’s going on.”
“I didn’t hurt him,” I snap.
Varek rubs my shoulder gently, his eyes soft. “I don’t think you did, Lemon. Let’s just get him taken care of, okay?”
He grabs Furyon underneath the arms, and I sob when his head falls backward. Oz grabs his feet and Bluebell slings an arm around me as they haul Furyon into the bedroom.
When they lay him down, Bluebell spins me to face her, blue eyes wide with concern. “Girl, are you okay? Were you also injured? Is any of this blood yours, maybe?”
Wrapping my arms around my torso, I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. His tattoo was hurting, and he wanted to see the mustangs, so we flew out there. The storm came, and they stampeded. He fell and they—they…” My voice trails off as a sob erupts from me.
Bluebell pulls me into her arms and croons softly, “There, there, honey. Seems like he’s gonna be fine, and you’re fine too. You had a right good scare, but it’s going to be okay, alright? We’re here for you.”
Relief floods my system.
“He’s awake!” Varek barks. “Get back here.”
We rush to the bedside. Furyon’s struggling upright, pale eyes wide as he looks around the room. When his gaze lands on me, relief fills it, and he sinks against the pillows.
“Lemon, thank gods, you’re fine.” He shoots upright. “You ain’t hurt, are you?”
I shake my head.
Furyon looks between us. “What happened? How’d I get here? The last thing I remember…” He reaches up and rubs a hand along his neck where the wound was. His fingers come away sticky with blood.
Now that he’s awake, the reality of what just happened hits me hard. He’s mine, my mate. And we all know it, based on the awkward silence that follows.
Varek clears his throat. “Sounds like the mustangs trampled you pretty good. Lemon flew you back here and called us. I happened to be there, and if you can believe it, I was a healer’s assistant before I got into property development.
” He gives me a careful look. “Seems like you’re alright now, though. ”
“Okay.” I beg Varek with my eyeballs not to say anything.
“Mmm, I’m gonna head out too.” Bluebell grabs Oz by the neck and shoves him toward the door. “See ya later. Feel better, Furyon!” The trio disappears toward the front of the cottage as Furyon stares at me.
He cocks his head to the side, rubbing at his neck again. “That was weird.”
I can’t find the right words, so I nod.
I am in deep doodoo shit.