CHAPTER 28 #2
She didn’t remember that. She frowned, lifting the torn edge of her dress. A mark glimmered in the dim light – not raw anymore, but a raised pink and golden scar that caught even the shadows.
She traced it with one finger. “Emerald doesn’t leave scars.”
His gaze followed, guilt shadowing his face. “Your magic wouldn’t come. I forced mine into you – made it answer me. I think that’s why.”
She laid a hand over it. “Then it’s perfect. It means you healed me. That’s all I see.”
Kara shifted slightly to see him better. He winced. Although he was trying to hide it, it was obvious his breathing was laboured, painful.
“You’re hurt!”
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
But she shot to her knees and lifted up his tunic with quick hands.
What she saw horrified her. Bruises were darkening in sick shades of red and purple across his torso, deep slices between them, and his ribs were uneven.
He’d tied a makeshift bandage around his middle but it was drenched with blood.
She watched the rise and fall of his chest – shallow and dangerously irregular.
“Sebastian!” she gasped.
He moved to shove the material back down but she forced his hands away, pulling his tunic off, exposing his bare chest.
“Stop that,” she snapped. “I need to see–”
Her hands flared emerald, her magic finally obeying her.
“Kara–” he objected.
She wouldn’t do it without his permission. Not again.
“Please,” she begged him. “Please let me heal you.”
He looked as if the plea hurt worse than the wounds, indecision written across his face.
“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you... it’s the least I can do,” she said.
He flinched at her words, but nodded faintly, though guilt flashed on his face. She pushed her magic out, praying silently.
Heal him, all of him.
He grimaced in pain as the first wave of emerald hit him. As her magic pushed deeper, hunting for the damage, her breath stopped.
Something was very wrong. Dark pressure was building. Blood pooling in places blood should never be. Against his ribs. Around his lung, slowly suffocating him from the inside.
“Sebastian.” Her voice came out strangled. “You have internal bleeding.”
His brows lifted. “Ah. That explains it.”
“Explains–” Her hands shook against his skin. “You’re bleeding into your chest. Your lung it’s – you could have–” She broke off, horrified. “How long have you been like this?”
He shrugged. “A few hours? Since the fight, probably.”
“A few hours?!” She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to hit him, heal him, and scream at him all at once. “You could have died!”
His hand came up to cup her face, and there was a tremor in his fingers. “But I didn’t. I’m right here.”
“You stupid, reckless–” A sob caught in her throat.
“For what it’s worth, blood is supposed to stay inside the body.”
She gaped at him. “Don’t you dare joke about this – that is not funny.”
He gave her a crooked, pained smile. “No? Felt funny,” he said weakly.
“Gods,” she whispered, both furious and terrified.
She forced her magic in further still, felt the internal wounds slowly bend to her will.
She watched with intense relief as his skin turned back to its normal colour, felt the ribs knit themselves back together, and the slices disappear like they’d never been there.
And all the while, she could feel how long he’d been enduring it.
The pain. She felt it echo under her own ribs.
There had been so much of it. How had he not made a sound?
How had he held her, strong and unwavering, when this was tearing him apart?
He’s been like this all day... and just let me sleep?
She finally felt the last of his pain recede and her magic sang in her veins as it washed over him – as if healing Sebastian Thorne was its calling.
He closed his eyes and took one long, deep breath.
His first in hours, she guessed. Kara called her emerald back, watching it retreat into her hands.
Its work done. The one thing she hadn’t touched, deliberately this time, was the scar beneath his eye.
That one stayed. He sat up slowly so that they were face to face – then swayed, catching himself shakily with one hand on the wall.
She reached out instantly to steady him.
“Sebastian–”
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just... dizzy.”
Kara caught his jaw, forcing his gaze to hers. “You nearly died. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
He opened his mouth–
“You should have woken me,” she said angrily, hitting his arm. Harder than she meant to.
He barely noticed. A slight frown appeared on his face. “You needed to rest,” he said. “Not be worried about me.”
Absolutely not, Thorne.
“And now I’m going to worry more,” she retorted. “Because apparently you’ll just bleed out in silence like some stoic, overprotective–”
“Okay, okay,” he said placatingly, raising his hands in mock defeat.
“You will never do that again,” she ordered. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”
His expression warmed at her empty threat, but she just glared at him.
“Fine,” he muttered, “the next time I am bleeding to death, I promise – you’ll be the first to know.”
He was trying to keep it light, she could tell, using humour as a shield. She wouldn’t let him. She stared hard at him, saw the apology there that he would never say, and nodded once.
He put a hand to his ribs to inspect her work. “Thank you, Kara.”
“After everything you just did for me... getting me out–” She looked him right in the eye. “You will never owe me anything. Ever.”
Sebastian was quiet for a long time after that. She could tell he had something on his mind – something that he desperately wanted to say. So she waited.
Eventually he said, “Back in the cell...”
When I told you I loved you.
“Yes?”
“Kara... what I walked in on–”
His hands clenched into fists, so hard that his knuckles went white and the tension rippled his arms.
“That hadn’t–”
He stopped. Swallowed hard, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumped. He took a breath, and slowly, carefully, uncurled his fingers one by one. She could see him trying desperately to control the rage underneath as he tried again.
“Had he done that before?”
Not where I thought you were going with this.
“No,” she whispered. “That was the first time.” She reached for his hand. It was shaking. “You stopped it.”
Relief flashed on his face and his whole body sagged with it.
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding it in for hours.
Then his expression turned cold. Dangerous.
Distant. Both of them at that moment remembering exactly what he’d done to the man who had hurt her.
And that he’d do it again. Without hesitation.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. When he looked back the warmth had returned.
He was forcing himself to stay present with her, instead of where his mind had just gone.
She didn’t tell him the rest. Didn’t say what had come before. She wasn’t ready yet. The pyre. Her forced to her knees, the ropes tying her to the wall. The whispers in her ear. The smoke in her lungs. She felt him watching her, he could see there was more.
But he didn’t push – and she was grateful.
“You don’t have to talk about it, not until you’re ready,” he said.
She squeezed his hand tightly, feeling the soft hum of their magic. “Thank you.”
Sebastian gave a small nod – his thumb tracing along hers absently, his shoulders rigid. “I know this isn’t the time. I’m sorry. But...” He exhaled and stared down at their joined hands, clearly conflicted. “There’s something else – uh – something I wanted to ask you.”
“Okay, go ahead,” she said cautiously.
He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. She’d never seen him like this before. When he spoke again, he was quiet. Uncertain.
“Did you mean it? What you said to me in the cell?” he asked, finally looking at her. His gaze rooted her to the spot. “Or did you just say it because you thought you were going to die?”
What? Of course I meant it.
She was so shocked he’d asked it. So shocked he doubted it, that she actually hesitated to answer.
It was only a second. But too long. She saw it in the hardening of his expression, the tightening of his jaw.
All but heard the walls go up. His mouth pulled into a half-smile, an attempt at nonchalance.
“It’s fine if you didn’t,” he said quickly, pulling his hand away. “People say all sorts of things in those situations. I won’t hold you to it.”
She stared at him incredulously.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he continued. It sounded flat. Rehearsed.
He really thinks I didn’t mean it.
She reached for his hand again. “Of course I meant it. How could you even think–”
“Why?” The word burst out of him.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Why would you say that? How could you possibly mean it?”
Because it’s true – how could I not?
“Sebastian–”
“You don’t know what I’ve done. Who I am. The men I’ve killed.” His eyes were wild now. “You chased me halfway across the realm because you thought I was the enemy, and now – what? Now you love me?”
“Yes, I do.”
He shook his head. “You love the part of me I showed you. The one who laughed with you at campfires. Who held your hand in the dark.” A harsh breath escaped him. “That’s not all of me, Kara. You saw a glimpse of it this morning, what I’m capable of. But you don’t know the rest.”
“Then tell me,” she said steadily.
“You don’t want to know–” he broke off, standing suddenly. “You’d take it back. You’d be afraid of me.” He stalked away from her.
You idiot. You beautiful, brave idiot. You think I’d only love the easy parts of you?
“I wouldn’t be,” she said, calm and sure. “I’ve never been afraid of you. And I’ve seen enough to know. You fought through that prison to reach me. I’ve never felt safer than when you walked into that cell.”
He gave a jagged laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose there are worse reasons to fall in love than watching a man slaughter a dozen prison guards.”
“Seriously?” She lifted her brows at him. “You’re deflecting.”