48. Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
It’s as if the world is moving in slow motion.
Jeremy yanks the sword from Micah’s body, and blood gushes from the wound.
Micah begins to fall, even as Jeremy slowly slides the sword from his own body, not a drop of blood to be found.
Rage erupts from some deep cavernous place inside me, and fire fills my hand as I hurl it at the demon with rocket speed.
Jeremy disappears the moment it would have burned him alive, his laughter echoing through the air.
Only then do I become aware of Silas and Gabriella framing me, of them directing our troops to look for Jeremy, to watch for him, only then am I aware of the way I tremble from the adrenaline rush, from my fear for Micah.
I tune out everything but him, rushing to his side and falling to my knees next to him.
“Micah.” He tries to sit up, excruciating pain wrenching his face, and I force him down.
“No, you stubborn man. You are immortal with limits. You can still bleed out.”
“Why are you here?” he demands, his voice weak. “I told you—to wait.”
“You can’t boss me around like you do everyone else. We fight together.” I press my hand to the wound, applying pressure, scared for him all over again. “You’re bleeding too much.”
Celine is suddenly opposite me, her hand cupping Micah’s face. “Micah,” she whispers. “I’ve got you. I’ll get you to the garrison.”
Every part of me screams in rejection. I don’t trust her.
He doesn’t trust her. She’s not taking him anywhere when he’s injured like this and unable to protect himself.
“Back off, Celine,” I order, no give to my voice, and there will be no challenge between us.
Not now. Not while Micah is barely hanging on, not when I can feel the weakness in him, and it’s terrifying me.
“And leave him to you?” she demands. “Never. I don’t trust you. He needs help.”
“I’m his help.” I spread my hand and will heat to my palm, the surface turning orange.
“What are you doing?” she demands in earnest. “What are you?”
“Saving his life before he bleeds out. Get back.”
Instead, she launches herself at me. I lift my hand, and flames lick the air in her direction. She scrambles backward and thankfully away.
“Territorial much?” Micah manages to whisper, a weak attempt at a smile curving one side of his mouth, a white line above his upper lip.
“Yes,” I bite out. “I am. It’s my turn to save your life. I’m going to cauterize your wounds.” I inch closer to him and warn, “It’s going to hurt.”
“Do it,” he breathes out. “Do it now.”
Silas, Braylon, and Zeke huddle around us, all on their knees. “Fuck me,” Silas curses, inspecting the wound. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
Zeke’s eyes meet mine. “That’s exactly what Ember plans to do,” and when I look at Braylon, he offers me a nod of approval.
I will the fire away, my palm burning orange again, and with Micah’s closest friends watching, the worry distorting their expressions I know they fear for Micah, and if I want to save him, there’s no time for hesitation.
I don’t warn Micah what’s coming. He knows.
I flatten my hands on top of his gaping wound.
His body jerks with the burn and he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth before he goes limp.
“He’s fine,” I assure everyone, including me.
“He passed out,” I add, feeling his heartbeat in my chest, as if it were my own, knowing that would sound crazy if I said it out loud.
I also know the moment the wound is cauterized but he’s far from out of trouble.
He’s bleeding from the other side. “Turn him over,” I order quickly and more urgently, “Turn him over!”
Zeke and Silas act quickly, easing him to his side, and there’s so much blood gushing from Micah’s remaining wound—too much blood.
I use both hands again, pressing them to the wound and sealing it off.
Watching the flow of blood halt is blessed relief.
“On his back,” I order, and I use my magic to remove the vial of soto I’ve been carrying in my pocket.
Gabriella has joined us at some point and settles at Micah’s head, lifting it to her lap, and I have the fleeting realization that I don’t mind her touching him, but Celine is another story.
There is something about her that sits wrong and screams of warning.
She is not what she seems, my instincts scream, but I’ll analyze why later.
For now, I reach for Micah’s mind, bully my way in, and say, I need you to wake up and drink the soto. Please. For me.
His lashes flutter open, and his lips twitch in what I think is supposed to be another attempt at a smile as he whispers, “For you.”
With shaking hands, I ease the liquid down his throat and toss the vial when it’s empty, pressing my forehead to his, speaking to him in my mind. Do not die on me. Do you hear me? But he’s already passed out again.
I sit back, and my gaze meets Zeke’s. “I can’t go to the garrison and risk leading Jeremy to it.
I need another safe option.” No sooner do I say those words than a place and a location press into my mind, and I know Micah put them there.
“Maine,” I say to them all. “He wants to go to Maine.” I grab Micah’s hand and rift us, reappearing outside a lighthouse with waves crashing on the rocks below, the water close, and the air bitterly cold.
Demons don’t like the water, I remember Micah telling me the day we were on the beach in Elysium, and here we are, by the water.
Silas, Zeke, and Gabriella appear moments after us.
Zeke kneels next to Micah but speaks to me.
“You can use magic inside the lighthouse, but you can’t rift to get in.
Me and Silas will get him inside and in bed.
Gabriella can rift you down so you end up in the right spot, but first, you need to go tell the lighthouse to let us in. ”
“Wait. What? How?”
“Because he’s the only person who can allow anyone to enter, and since you’re obviously bonded with him, I’m hoping like hell you can, too.”
I’m back to feeling a little ridiculous, but I can feel Sara inside me, almost encouraging me, a reminder that in my new world, the unreal is real.
I rift to the heavy wooden door and press my hands to the hard surface.
“Micah is hurt badly,” I say. “Can you please let us in?” The door swings open, and I breathe out in relief, motioning Zeke and Silas forward.
I watch as they ease Micah to his feet, one of them on either side, and they literally lift him off the ground and rush toward me.
Once they’re at the door, Zeke takes over and eases him inside.
I glance in, and they’re gone. Gabriella appears beside me, and we enter what looks like what you’d expect a lighthouse to look like.
There are wooden stairs winding upward, and that’s it.
Gabriella pulls the door shut behind us and bolts it and then offers me her hand. A moment later, I swear we’re inside the house in Elysium, outside the two doors that lead to my room and Micah’s room. “How is this possible?”
“It’s a lot of magic mumbo jumbo I’ll explain later. Right now, Micah needs you.”
The door opens, and Zeke and Silas step into the hallway. “He’s resting but fine,” Zeke announces. “He wants Silas and Gabriella to go to the garrison and ensure their safety. I’ll stay here, though it’s safe here, Ember. The water, the spellcasting. It’s a double layer of protection.”
“One of us needs a blood link with you, Ember,” Gabriella says. “It needs to be me, and before we leave.” I open my mouth to argue, and she cuts me off. “You faced Jeremy and sent him running. I’m not afraid of the bond, but I’m the right choice. I’m the water to your flame.”
“I’ll do it,” Zeke interjects. “I’m personal guard to Micah. She’s linked to him, which means I’m now her personal guard as well.”
“Why don’t we all just fucking link up?” Silas says. “If she turns into a demon, we’re better off three against one anyway. If she doesn’t, we have a badass bitch on our side and at our beck and call.”
“You’re all crazy. No.”
“Yes,” they all say at once.
Blades appear in all of their hands, and they slice their palms, blood pooling red and beginning to roll across their skin. “No,” I say firmly. “No.”
“You going to let us bleed out?” Silas challenges. “Hurry up, Ember.”
“Damn it,” I mutter as the blade at my thigh radiates with magic, as if it’s insisting I act. I huff out a breath and remove the blade, slicing my palm, the sting biting. “Now what?” I ask as my own blood blisters up beneath the cut.
They all begin touching my hand with theirs, and when it’s done, they chant a spellcast over and over until the wounds seal and a tattoo appears on my arm.
I’ve never actually paid much mind to what it is, but now I do.
It’s a circle with a star inside, and mine, unlike theirs, glows crystal blue.
I’m wildly comforted by that blue, as it tells me I’m still Nephilim, not demon.
And these three amazing people just gave me three more reasons to make sure that stands.
A soft howl of approval from Sara rises from within me.
Gabriella throws her arms around me and whispers, “I’m so proud of you for what you did today.” She disappears.
“I’m going to hug you, too,” Silas says, pulling me close. “You got this. We got you.” He, too, disappears.
Zeke is the only one left. “You’re better together, but keep it the two of you. Leave Jeremy out of it.”
“I will,” I say, and he motions to the door. “Now go take care of him.” He disappears. No hug from the warrior, but there is respect, and I believe he’d die for me. I need to show him the same is true of me.
I draw in a deep breath and open the bedroom door to find a room that matches my own.
My heart squeezes as my gaze lands on Micah, where he rests propped up on a pillow, the sheet low on his naked, muscled torso.
He’s pale, so very pale, so very unlike the fierce warrior and Crystal Seer who’s trained me to fight and survive.
But he’ll be fine, I tell myself. He’ll survive.
Healing is a process, even for an ancient immortal, but I burn with a deep need to ensure he’s on the right path.
I spellcast a hot bath and fill it with soto, crossing the room to sit next to him, the raised scar on his side a reminder that he has a deep wound that will take time to mend.
I rest my hand on his wound, his skin warm beneath my touch.
He put himself in Jeremy’s path to protect others, to save me.
He’s a part of me, connected in ways I didn’t know possible.
Micah shifts slightly, and his eyes open, a sea of crystal blue, and happiness swells inside me, my eyes pinching with unshed tears.
“Hi,” I say, that one word laden with emotion.
“Hi,” he murmurs. “You saved my life.”
“I kind of owed you.”
“You never owe me, Ember.”
“I do.” My hand settles on his chest, his heart thundering wildly beneath my palm, and I wonder if he’s reacting to the healing process or me. Or maybe both? “I owe you so much.”
“You did good, sweetheart. You stood against him.”
“I didn’t kill him, though. I tried.”
“I didn’t kill him, either. We will.”
I like the “we” in his words so very much. I don’t think I really knew how alone I was until Micah, Sara, and his little circle came into my life. Even the house feels like a friend. “I ran you a bath with soto,” I say, “just like you did me when I was injured.”
One corner of his mouth barely twitches in a weak attempt at a smile. “You just want to see me naked.”
I smile for us both. “I kind of do, but I promise not to take advantage of you until you’re healed.”
“I’m not sure that’s necessary.”
“You are not capable of anything you’re thinking about right now,” I jokingly scold, and rift us to the side of the tub, easing him onto the edge, me in front of him. He sways a bit, and I wrap my arms around him, pretty sure if he goes down, we both go down. “Can you undress?”
“Do it for me, just like I did you. You wouldn’t want me to fall, would you? It took two men to get me inside the house.”
“But I can tell you’re already improving.”
“Help me anyway,” he bids softly.
My teeth scrape my bottom lip, and I whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.” I will away his clothing, and I can feel his hard body next to mine. I am now officially as weak-kneed as I was the night he undressed me and set me in the tub.
“You have to get in,” I order. “I can’t lift you and put you in, and I’m not sure I can safely rift you.” He doesn’t move, and I add, “The sooner you get well, the sooner we can get naked together.”
He drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Why wait? Get in with me.”
“Oh, no,” I say, feeling him hard against my hip, and I try to be serious. “Micah, please. You are not going to behave if I do that, and you have to heal first.” I push out of his arms, and he’s too weak to stop me but apparently not too weak to be rock hard and impressively erect.
He groans and rifts himself into the tub, proof he is most definitely already feeling the impact of the soto. I spellcast a chair with a high back and curl up in it beside him.
“Fuck, it feels good,” he murmurs, glancing over at me. “Better if you were in here.”
“Next time,” I promise, and when I reach for his arm, he catches my hand, turning it palm up and staring down at the tattoo, a full smile curving on his lips.
“They were very insistent,” I explain.
“As they should be,” he says, approval in his voice. “And now you know where you belong, Ember. With me. With us.”
The words stun me, and an image of the man with the red wings fills my mind.
Where do you belong? he’d asked me, but deep inside, I know he wasn’t talking about here with Micah, and I feel angry with that realization.
He wants me to leave this place. He wants me to leave Micah, and he will not get his way.
Micah allows his head to rest on the back rim, his eyes shutting.
I draw my knees to my chest and settle my head on the edge of the armchair.
The instant my eyes shut, he’s there, the warrior angel is in my mind.
And for just a moment, I’m in a black space, still in my chair, him standing above me, his blood-red wings stretching broad and wide. “Where do you belong?” he demands.
I jolt and sit up straight to find I’m still in the bathroom and Micah is knocked out in the tub. A breath trickles from my lips, but as I look down, I suck it right back in as I stare down at a single feather splayed on the floor.