Page 93 of Avalon Tower

The hum stops, the veil mist flickering.

The mage’s scimitar sinks into my stomach, and searing agony spreads through my body as the blade plunges in. I try to scream, but I can’t. I make a strangled sound as the mage rips his scimitar from my gut. The door bursts open, and Raphael charges in.

Blinded with pain, I fall to my knees. The mage whirls, and my thoughts become hazy, drowned by the horror of my lacerated stomach. I try to speak and taste blood on my lips.

Raphael slashes the mage’s throat. My vision blurs as he kneels by my side and curls his powerful arms around me. “I’ve got you, love. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

I try to answer, but I can’t breathe. I can’t move. And I can feel my life fading away.

CHAPTER 31

As the pain ebbs, heat spreads through my body. I’m in Raphael’s lap, folded in his arms. His hand is pressed on my belly, and his healing magic spills over me. My heart races, and my breath speeds up. His warm magic kisses my skin, such an intense feeling that I almost forget the horror of what just happened.

I hardly feel the pain anymore. Raphael is pale, and there’s something in his expression that I never expected to see.

Fear.

So, the man does feel emotions.

“Are you okay?” His voice cracks. “Does it still hurt?”

I shake my head. Right now, the pain is just a horrible memory, replaced by the warmth pouring from his fingertips over the flat of my stomach and the hollows of my hips. His muscular arms wrap protectively around me. I feel completely safe in his embrace.

“How does it look?” I ask.

He looks down at my stomach and pulls his hand aside. “Better. Almost healed.”

I feel the rumble of his deep voice through his chest, and I relax into him. His magic is intoxicating. I wonder if it feels this sensual to everyone he heals, or just the women who know he’s bad news and can’t resist him anyway.

He gazes at me intensely, his expression twisted with worry. Maybe it’s the sight of the blood soaking my pajama shirt and shorts.

“I’m okay,” I say again. I never thought I’d have to reassure Raphael.

He nods, but I’m still curled in his lap, his hand pressed on my skin. Heat pulses beneath his palm, making my breath hitch. “You’re okay.” Is he reassuring himself?

“Maybe I should clean the blood off.”

He nods once, then scoops me up against his enormous chest.

“I can walk now,” I protest.

He’s not listening. Cradling me in his arms, he manages to get the bathroom door open with one hand. Moonlight streams in the windows over the room.

Gently, he lays me in the porcelain tub. “I…um…” He clears his throat. “It’s dark, but I’ll turn around. I could leave you, but I need to know you’ve healed.”

For once, Raphael’s ice-cold composure has abandoned him, and he is rattled. While I sit in the bath, he lights some of the candles on the shelves. They cast a cozy glow over the bathroom, the warm light wavering over the walls.

He sits with his back to me. I feel a twinge of pain as I shift and twist in the tub, stripping out of my blood-soaked pajamas and underwear. I drop them on the floor next to the bath, horrified at the mess. Blood runs from the pajamas onto the stone floor.

I turn on the tap, and hot water fills the tub. Steam curls into the air, and rain still patters against the windowpanes. It’s comfortable in here.

“Raphael, you powers are truly miraculous. That would have been fatal.”

“They’re not my powers,” he murmurs. “I’m just the conduit.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a good conduit, I’d be dead.”

“I know,” he says quietly to the wall.

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