Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Val
T heo doesn’t move from where he slumped onto the couch. With his eyes closed and without him bossing me around, he looks more like a storybook prince than the evil villain who came to kidnap a fair maiden and got me instead. Blue seeps from his body onto the fabric, puddling beneath him. Blood, he’d said. The pool of deep sapphire gives new meaning to blue-blooded pedigree. When he’d mentioned royal blood, I hadn’t imagined this.
“Thanks, Monty,” I tell my new little friend. “I wouldn’t have gotten him to the couch without your help.”
The dragon flies above Theo, hovering as though he’s as worried as I am. He dips his nose with its glittering scales against the demon’s hand.
Theo doesn’t move.
This is bad. Really bad.
What if I’m trapped here without any way to remove the wards he put on this place? How will I get home? Can I find my friends without him?
“Theo.” My voice booms too loud in the silent room.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes.
I can’t tell where the blood is coming from. His human glamour flashes in and out, revealing his much larger demon form hanging partially off the furniture. No wonder he’d been so heavy. I’d been half-carrying, half-dragging a massive monster. Giant red and black wings fold around him. Their leathery texture strokes soft against my hands as I pull them away to check his injuries.
His crisp dress shirt sticks to his skin, and a large navy splotch spreads over the lower right leg of his pants. I need to know how badly he’s wounded. I could call for help, but without knowing what’s wrong with him, I don’t know what to say or who to call who won’t take one look at his injuries and decide to kill me first and ask questions later. Reaching for his belt buckle, I freeze at the metallic jangle of the clasp against the hook. The absurdity of the situation hits me.
“If you’re faking this, I will knock you out for real,” I threaten. “I can’t believe I’m stripping you after you forced me to hell with the whole fated mates claim.” The belt won’t slide off. I abandon it and go after the shirt buttons. “Especially after you left me here to deal with your mother instead of letting me search for my friends. It’s not like you know them a fraction as well as I do.”
I lose my grip on a button when his glamour flickers away again. Blue blood slicks my hands. Monty nudges my shoulder as though warning me away.
“I can’t just leave him like this,” I explain to the little dragon. “I need a blade, something sharp to cut through the fabric so I can see what’s wrong.” The sword from earlier comes to mind. The one I’d swung at Theo, trying to stab him before I realized he was my best chance of getting my friends back. “I’ll grab the sword I dropped when you popped out of wherever.” I stand and take barely a step before Monty zooms toward the study, disappearing along the way.
He blinks beside me, the weight of the sword clutched in his claws pulling him down.
“Thanks, Monty.”
Taking the sword from him, my gaze lands on the rocket launcher I’d asked the suite to magic me. If it’ll send me that, then it can score me other stuff.
“Right,” I tell the room, still feeling stupid talking to air. What name had Nic used for the castle? “Shadowvale, could you send me a first aid kit? Or a healing potion if those exist here? Maybe both.”
Nothing happens.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Ask for a rocket launcher that I can’t use without blowing up innocent people, and it appears. Request something for healing, and the demon castle?—”
A plastic box lands next to us, and I flinch, my fingers curling around the sword’s hilt. I manage not to slice Theo or myself. A familiar red cross decorates the top of the white plastic. A first aid kit . A bottle shimmers to existence atop it. Purple gel glows inside the glass wrapped with intricate metalwork. A healing potion , I hope.
“Thanks,” I tell the room. Picking up the potion, I pry open Theo’s mouth and tug at the stopper. “Wait, is he supposed to drink it, or is it more like first aid cream? Shouldn’t it have come with instructions?”
I look to Monty for an answer.
The dragon sneezes a ribbon of flame that lights a nearby chair.
Scrambling to my feet, I beat a blanket over the sparks to smother them. A puff of smoke billows from his nostrils, and he tucks his gold and copper spiked tail over his face.
“All right,” I tell him. “Magic’s unpredictable. I get it.” Or at least I think I do. “I’ll check his wounds. Then figure out how to treat him.”
With the sword, I rip through the fabric carefully, not wanting to carve Theo up any more than whatever damage has already been done to him. Not until he’s able to fight back anyway. With each inch of exposed skin, I find recent wounds and old scars.
Bruises cover his upper chest. A deep gash from his knee to his ankle has me wondering how the hell he was still standing.
His glamour flickers so fast from human to demon that my attention zeroes in on not getting knocked across the room by a wing with bones longer than my arm. I don’t catch the sword slipping in my hand until it’s too late. The slickness of blue blood and sweat—because yeah, I’m freaking out at being trusted with anyone’s physical well-being—sends the blade sliding across my palm, splitting the skin with its insane sharpness.
I drop the sword.
Blood wells and spills over in droplets faster than I can move off him to grab the first aid kit. My scarlet red stands out in sharp contrast to his dark blue.
“Crap.” I reach for the kit but become twisted in his wings since his glamour chooses this exact moment to blink out again. Planting my palms against him to keep from toppling over, I watch his skin knit slowly beneath the smear of my blood.
What is happening?
My hair falls in my face, a mess I can’t see past.
Monty pushes against me in dragon form to help me balance.
“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him. “I can’t do this.” My confession relieves some of the pressure. I wish Rosemarie was here. My friend has worked in hospitals for years. She would know what to do. Right now, I look less like a caretaker and more like Nurse Crazy. “Guess the best I can do is call for help. Maybe they’ll send someone who won’t try to kill me or make a demon deal with me.”
“Don’t call for anyone,” Theo says from beneath me.
He’s awake . Thank goodness. I don’t even care that he’s already bossing me around. “You’re hurt badly and still bleeding, and I don’t know what I’m doing?—”
“Give me time and help me drink healing potion.” When I move to get off him, he uses a wing to nudge me closer. “Just stay with me for now.”
I open the healing potion and tip it to his mouth, telling myself not to notice how full and kissable his lips are or the way his throat works as he swallows the dose in a single gulp. He grimaces as though it tastes awful. I guess human medicine and the magical kind share that at least. Spying the red and blue smudges I left on the glass, I pull away my bleeding palm, embarrassed at the ew factor. “Let me find some wipes and gauze. Maybe disinfectant, if I’m lucky.”
“No need.”
“There is every need. I’m bleeding on you.”
“Which is working as fast or faster than the healing potion.”
“Gross, I’m not gonna think how very against modern science your insane idea of medicinal let’s bleed on each other might be because, honestly, I can’t deal with the ick factor right now.”
“It seems I’ve misjudged the impact of mating magic.” He puts his hand on my back and wraps his wings closer which shouldn’t do anything for me—not with the whole kidnapping and locking me away kind of day we’ve had. But if I’m honest, I sink into his touch before remembering not to crush him. I can’t let this demon get any ideas about me giving in to whatever kinky fated mates fantasy he’s having.
“We are not getting freaky because you almost died.”
“It’ll take a lot more than my cousins hacking at me to kill me.”
His comment hits me in the gut. Here, I’d thought my family was the most dysfunctional ever with a reality television show, an obsession with fame, and their underhanded attempts to prove I more than lived up to the jinx nickname they stuck me with. But they’ve never caused me to bleed until I passed out. “Your family did this?”
“It’s always family. They’re…complicated.”
“Pfft, tell me about it.”
He slides my bleeding palm farther up his chest toward his shoulder, and if I’m not imagining it, his muscles go lax at the contact. “I thought you wanted me dead.”
“I wanted to kill you. That doesn’t mean I’m letting someone else do it. There’s a difference.”
“You healed me so you can kill me later?”
The asshole sounds like he’s serious with his question. I lift my head, fighting to catch his expression to see if he’s for real or if this is his attempt at teasing, but he’s holding me too tightly. “You would rather I’d left you to pass out on the floor in a pool of your own blood? Maybe I should have, but apparently, you’re my best shot at getting my friends back. Especially if you know where Ava is.”
“What a comfort.” His voice comes out in an almost growl that’s sarcasm laced with sexy.
“Look, I healed you with a potion or gross blood stuff or whatever so why don’t you lay off the boss-hole vibe, stop hugging me like I’m your personal ice pack, and let me treat my hand before infection sets in?”
“Your wound’s already closed,” he says.
“No way. The cut was too deep, and I didn’t take your magic brew.” I turn my hand over, and there goes my argument. My palm’s bloody, sure, but it looks as though I sliced it a few days ago, not a few minutes ago. “That’s impossible.”
He gives a rough chuckle that ends in a cough. “You’re with a demon and a soul guardian in a magical suite in a hell dimension that gave you a rocket launcher and you’re questioning what’s possible?”
I flex and stretch my fingers, but there’s no pain. It’s like the cut never happened. “Tell me how it healed.”
“I told you. Mating magic. If you keep close, the rest of my injuries will heal as easily as yours did. My wounds are deeper so they’ll require more contact and more time.”
“Nuh uh, I’m not buying into this mystical mates connection thing. I get you’re used to people doing whatever you say, but I’m not falling at your feet just because you think we’re destined for each other.”
“The magic doesn’t lie. We wouldn’t have healed each other if we weren’t fated mates.”
“So that’s it? Bleed on you and poof , we’re mates? You should’ve put that in your messed-up matching contract.”
“True mating takes more than swapping blood.” He doesn’t offer information about whatever that extra might be, and I’m done playing by his tight-lipped rules.
I won’t allow myself to give in to the fact that snuggled up to a demon is the safest and best I’ve felt in a while despite the surreal situation.
If only my heart wasn’t so torn over leading my friends into a trap.
If only he’d been honest with me from the beginning—although I wouldn’t have believed him.
If only fated mates existed in the real world and he could be mine. I might even tolerate a fraction of his bossiness.
But no. I push away to stand, missing the heat of him and taking comfort in Monty flying so close. “You say mating magic takes more, but then you go all cryptic. That ends now. You want me to consider whatever more is? Well, your mom already made me a different kind of offer. She and I had a long chat. I know why you’re obsessed with finding a mate, and it has nothing to do with you getting a case of the insta-love when you saw me.”
He sits up. “Val, my mother?—”
“Nope, not finished. She made detailed promises with specific conditions. You want to talk about negotiating a real demon deal? You’re gonna need to go big.” I pause for a second to let that sink in. “Or your mom will help me go home.”