23. Elhyor
23
Elhyor
I t’s been twenty minutes since I pinned her to that cross, and I’m already getting antsy.
There’s no reason I should be—she tried to kill me after all—but I can’t control it.
My instincts— fuck you, dragon side —are begging me to go to her and make sure she’s alright.
Why do I fucking care if she’s alright? I should care about the fact that she jumped from that freaking corridor without a care if she would survive the fall or the aftermath of that kind of attack.
She was lucky that everyone was still out training or something worse than being pinned to that cross could have happened to her.
I sit at my desk, rubbing at my chest.
She looked desperate. Broken.
Why the fuck am I trying to find excuses for her behavior?
I should be focusing on the fact that she tried to kill me. I should be focused on the fact she could have very well succeeded without that little anatomy change all dragons have.
She shouldn’t be pinned to the wall but locked up in a cell. Except we don’t have any cells at Notre Dame.
It’s a church, a sanctuary, a library, and a treasure trove, so I have people to defend it, but I don’t have any freaking cells.
I click on my holo on the desk and call Brice.
“Add locks on the outside of Angélique’s room,” I say without giving him any explanation and hang up.
He knows not to question me when my voice is so full of anger.
Now what? Do I keep her there for a longer time?
Time stretches differently when you’re in an uncomfortable position, and it must be more than uncomfortable for her.
I mean, she’ll just have to shift to be healed instead of healing on the spot like me, but the time she’ll spend hanging on the cross definitely doesn’t seem like a walk in the park.
And yet, I can’t control my feet when they bring me back to the inside of the church.
I’m nowhere near the cross when I hear panting and a wild heartbeat.
I run.
But I wasn’t prepared for what greets me.
Angélique is down from the cross, one hand wrapping something around her hand, as if it will do anything for the state it’s in.
There’s blood everywhere, and while some of it might be mine after her little stunt, there is so much that isn’t.
It isn’t right.
She shouldn’t be losing so much blood.
It should have stopped by now.
But I can see with my own eyes the fabric she rolled around her hand is becoming more and more drenched with her blood.
What is wrong with her healing?
She hasn’t noticed me yet. The sound of her labored breath is deafening in the quiet of the cathedral, and it’s all I can hear now.
That and the low curses she can’t seem to stop muttering between big gulps of air.
Something isn’t right.
When she realizes that the fabric she used to wrap her hand isn’t enough, she looks around, and that’s when she turns her back to me.
My blood freezes.
My eyes spark with fire.
And my dragon roars in outrage.
I thought it was in my head, but from the way Angélique whips her head in my direction, the roar was out loud.
I expect fear in her eyes at me being back, but the only thing I see is resignation. I see someone giving up.
Then I see the calculation. Does she think she can run away? That she can outrun me?
That’s not important. She won’t have time to run.
“Who did this to you?” I growl.
I still see red, my control hanging on by a thread.
She raises her chin to look down her nose at me.
I don’t know how she can manage that, with me being at least twenty centimeters taller, but it somehow works.
“You. You did this to me.” She spits the words as if I’ve lost my mind or I’m dumb.
She thinks I’m talking about her hand.
“I’m not talking about your hand,” I say, anger seeping through my pores.
I know what she must see right now. My eyes have turned to burning embers, my nostrils with anger, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve started leaking smoke from them.
I look like hell personified.
And yet, she keeps looking at me, head up, as if I’m not the biggest threat she’s ever faced.
She looked like a doll when I met her, and I wanted to break her, but I was so wrong then. She’s not a doll; she’s a warrior under that lovely shell.
And now, I want to peel all of her layers to discover what she is at her core.
But now is not the time.
Now, she’s looking at me as if I’m an idiot, and as if she can’t understand what I mean exactly.
“Your back.” I growl once again without meaning to.
Truly, I don’t know what is wrong with that damn dragon side.
“Really? I’ve got my hand shredded, and all you can see is my back being sunburned?” she asks in disbelief.
I want to growl some more, but her words bring me back to the problem at hand.
“Why aren’t you shifting? It would solve everything.” I try to soften my voice as much as I can, but I know I still sound gruff.
She’s back to looking at me in disbelief, then something snaps in her eyes.
“I can’t shift, you fucking pig,” she yells at me, like I’m a moron.
And maybe I am, because it hadn’t crossed my mind that, if she came on foot and hasn’t displayed her wings since she arrived, there might be a deeper reason than not wanting to have the only feathered wings around.
Fuck.
Did I want her to hurt because she almost managed to kill me? Yes.
Did I want her to lose the use of her hand in the process? The thought that it would teach her a lesson crosses my mind just for a second, and then it’s gone. No, I don’t want her to lose her hand.
That thought hammers through my brain.
Would I have done things differently had I known that she couldn’t heal properly? I wish I could say no, but I’m not so sure anymore.
There’s something inside of me propelling me to her. There’s something inside of me hurting for her now.
Why can’t I render punishment in peace, for fuck’s sake?
“brICE,” I roar, and there’s something in my voice I don’t recognize. Is that panic?
I know the bat in him will hear me, no matter where he is in Notre Dame. He’s used to tuning out everything most of the time—all bats are—but it’s not a sound he can avoid.
“Here,” he says from the corridor near our rooms.
“We need a doctor,” I say, breathless, but I don’t see him moving immediately. “Now.”
I growl the last word.
I really have no idea what is wrong with me today, but I see him turn on his holo and tune him out again as soon as someone answers him. He’ll deal with this.
I need to deal with this hand.