Chapter Twelve
Kayden
Fuck me, it burns.
I writhe on the goddamn floor, half-sitting against the wall, gripping my shoulder like I could rip the pain out. It spreads fast, crawling from the wound like it's hunting every nerve ending I have.
Gritting my teeth, I wrap my hand around the arrow. It's buried deep. Just touching it sends another flash of agony through me.
"Fuck it," I hiss and pull.
The scream that rips out of me isn't dignified, but screw dignity. I'd like to see anyone take a poisoned crossbow bolt to the shoulder and not sound like a tortured animal.
I toss the bloody shaft aside and suck in air like it might put out the fire inside me. But something's wrong. The wound isn't healing. Not even trying to.
I blink through the haze. "What the fuck was on that thing?"
My voice comes out rough, teeth clenched so hard my jaw aches. I try not to groan again, because yeah, bleeding out in front of everyone is one thing, but whining about it… that's just embarrassing.
Sage rushes over, her steps frantic. Asher's shouting orders behind her—secure the perimeter, regroup in the living room—all that tactically reassuring shit I'd normally mock.
But right now, I can barely breathe. The pain's eating my brain alive.
Sage drops to her knees beside me, her face pale, eyes wide. Worry looks damn good on her for some reason.
"It's black hawthorn," she says.
"A what?" I growl, every syllable slicing through clenched teeth.
"It's a relatively benign shrub," she explains, tearing open my shirt. "Only mildly toxic to vampires. Darius's biochemical team weaponized it. They synthesized a version and made it into a proper anti-vamp poison. That arrowhead was soaked in it."
Of course they did. Nature-loving murder scientists. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"You life-bound folks are really creative when it comes to killing things," I mutter, watching the skin around the wound blacken like rot. "Is it worse because of your blood? The whole… alive thing making pain sharper?"
"No, her blood is helping," Maeve says from somewhere nearby. She's still as warm as a snowstorm. "If not for that, you'd already be unconscious. Or dead."
Oh. Well, cheers then.
"At least it didn't go through your heart," Sage says softly.
She's focused on the wound, lip caught between her teeth, worry carved into every line of her face. And even like this, covered in blood and panic, she's beautiful.
She's mine.
"Look at you," I rasp. "Protecting your husband in every way you can."
I grab the front of her shirt and pull her in just enough to crash my mouth against hers. It's rough and desperate, but it gives me something other than pain.
"Kayden," she scolds, but her eyes soften the way they always do when I make things worse like this.
She turns to the druid. "Can you help him?"
Maeve doesn't move. "You should be able to help him yourself. Manipulating natural toxins falls under your powers."
Sage sags a little. "I haven't learned how to do that."
Of course. Sage has goddess-tier potential and zero training.
"But I'll try," she adds.
And fuck, I believe in her. Because if anyone can fight nature and win, it's the little nymph who wrecked my whole damn life with one kiss.
Sage places her hands over my shoulder, hovering just above the wound. Her fingers tremble, but her gaze doesn't waver. Then her eyes begin to glow brighter, deeper green, like emerald fire. The light pulses from her fingertips, and I feel it as it seeps into my skin. It burns and soothes at once.
I grit my teeth and keep still, swallowing the groan that claws up my throat. Not gonna give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream again.
The poison flares as the light touches it. My muscles twitch, vision swimming.
A minute crawls by. Then another.
The black still spreads, but slower. The green light is pushing against it, reclaiming territory like vines swallowing rot.
Sage is panting. Sweat beads on her brow. Her hands shake. Her focus is laser-sharp but her energy's fading fast. I'm about to tell her to stop, when the druid moves in.
"Let me help," Maeve says, grabbing Sage's wrist.
The moment she makes contact, the power spikes. A surge rips through me like lightning, dragging a full-body groan out of my chest. I clamp my eyes shut, fists clenched, jaw locked tight.
And just like that, it's done. They pull away.
I exhale shakily and look down. The black is gone. In its place, red skin and healing. Not perfect, but no longer trying to kill me.
"Thank you," Sage breathes, voice low and raw with exhaustion.
"Yeah," I mutter. "Thanks." It comes out gruff. Doesn't mean it's not real.
Maeve brushes herself off like she just took out the trash. "That was the last thing I'll help you with," she says, then turns to Asher. "We're done. I'll send my final invoice. It will be… adjusted for the circumstances."
He gives a single nod, no comment. Classic brother.
I push myself higher against the wall, grunting as I shift to sit. Pain lances through my shoulder, but it's duller and more manageable.
"Really?" I scoff. "He pulls your funding and you bolt? You didn't even get shot."
Maeve shoots me a look full of disdain. "This is not my war, vampire. I refuse to be collateral damage in the soap opera you're running."
I shrug, wincing at the movement. "Fair." Don't like it, but she's not wrong.
Asher steps closer, eyes flicking between Sage and Maeve. "Will the barrier hold without you here?"
Maeve nods. "Yes. Until someone breaks it."
Sage speaks up, voice tight. "Can we leave? All of us?"
"All who were present at the time the ward was cast can come and go freely," Maeve replies. "However, this shield does not protect you from humans."
Asher turns to Sage. "Does Darius employ humans?"
"Yes," she says. "He occasionally hires merc teams for specific jobs. I never worked with them directly, but I've read the reports. They're good."
Asher crosses his arms, thinking. "I doubt he'd send mercenaries here. Not with your life on the line."
Sage shifts uncomfortably, gaze dropping. "Probably not. He'd keep it in the inner circle as much as possible."
"Unless he gets desperate," I mutter. "Can anything else get past your magical shrub shield?" I glance at the druid, making sure she doesn't leave without giving the full disclaimer.
"Supernaturals aligned with death can pass," Maeve replies. "Vampires, skinwalkers, wendigos. Creatures of that nature. Assuming Darius employs any."
"We'll keep our eyes open for a vegan wendigo army," I quip.
The druid doesn't dignify that with a response.
"This was more eventful than I hoped for," Maeve says, tone dry. "And less beneficial. I sincerely hope to never see you again. Farewell."
And just like that, she turns on her heel and walks out, vanishing past the broken door with an arrowhead still embedded like a damn souvenir.
"I'm sorry for Maeve's behavior," Eira says softly. "She was clearly shaken by what Darius did."
"It's not your fault, Eira. Don't worry," Asher replies. "She's already done plenty for us."
I grunt, pushing off the wall. My shoulder's still on fire, but I manage to get vertical. Asher steps in, offering a hand. I hesitate just long enough to make a point, then take it.
His grip is firm and supportive, but the look he gives me says we're going to talk later.
Can't wait.
I break contact and limp toward the liquor cabinet. Scotch is calling, and I damn well earned it.
As I pour, I glance around the room, taking stock for the first time since we stormed back under fire. Everyone's still breathing somehow.
Astrid's sitting on the couch, letting Eira bandage her arm.
Eira's got a bloody scrape on her cheek, nothing serious.
Jace is crouched by Winston, carefully pulling glass shards out of the old man's face with tweezers.
Winston suffers through it with a stoic attitude.
Tomas is at the weapons rack checking the gear. Seems unharmed or doesn't show it.
Donna stalks up to Asher with her hands on her hips. "We need to get the bullets out, Colonel. Now," she says, more command than suggestion.
I smirk behind my glass. Gotta love her bedside manner.
I see Asher's about to argue, but Sage steps in, catching his hand gently.
"I can do it," she says. "I've had practice."
Her eyes flick to me. I raise my glass in salute, the burn of the memory just as sharp as the scotch. The day she tried to leave. The shitty motel, and the blood of those scum I slaughtered. It feels like another life.
"All right," I say, tipping back the drink. "We don't look too bad, and we showed them."
Astrid nods. "Now they know we're not defenseless."
"This was a skirmish, not a full assault," Asher says, voice clipped. "We won't win the next one with the same tricks."
"We'll learn new ones," Astrid snaps back, not missing a beat.
I raise my second glass to her. Not often I find myself aligned with the valkyrie, but hey, I'll take allies where I can get them.
"Wildbane worked," Donna adds, her usual sparkle dimmed a notch. "And it turns out bullets still sting, even for Darius's people."
"Kudos to whoever shot the goat man," I mutter.
Tomas nods. "I aimed for his side, but he moved at the last moment."
I narrow my eyes. "You should've aimed for the heart. We'd be done."
"Colonel ordered us to disable, not kill," Tomas replies evenly. Then he adds, glancing at Sage, "For future reference, if things escalate, would a shot to his heart be fatal?"
All of our eyes drift to Sage, who's standing behind shirtless Asher, ready to pull the bullets from his back.
"I… I don't know," she admits quietly, sounding a little distressed. "I never tried to shoot him."
"Maybe you should have," Astrid says pointedly. "Would've ended your engagement and saved us a lot of trouble."
The words hit like a slap. And yeah, I've thought that, too. But the way the valkyrie says it is cold judgment. Even when she's right, she doesn't get to spit it like that at Sage.