Page 38 of Mated in Flames

Now I’m here and Warwick is dying from the poison I had been looking at over the last several weeks. If there was any time to try it out, now would be it. Warwick is going to die without an antidote. It’s now or never; I guess we’ll find out if it works the hard way.

Shakily, I lean over him and manage to twist the cap off the vial, allowing it to fall to the ground without caring where it went. Warwick’s mouth is open, and I hesitate for only a second before I tip the contents straight down his throat, forcing his mouth closed as he shudders and bucks at the feeling, rubbing my hand on his throat to try and prompt him to swallow. When he does, I sag.

That’s it. The antidote is in him, now. All I can do is wait.

I sit back on my knees, tired and drained. Suddenly remembering Dane, I look around. He’s collapsed on the ground nearby, completely bare and unmarked from the fire that had consumed him. Warwick had barely touched him, and he had been uninjured, and I wonder wearily, not really curious right now, why he had burst into flames as he had. Perhaps his stress had just gotten too high? Warwick had said that they could create a blazing fire when they were threatened. No doubt being the cause of his brother’s certain death had drawn the reaction from Dane.

Warwick chokes. I freeze and whip my head toward him. His eyes are open now, but they’re roving all around, unseeing. He’s choking on each breath, and his face is losing colour as I watch, scrabbling at his throat.

He can’t breathe.

“No, no,” I murmur, a cold feeling sweeping through me. “Warwick, stay with me, okay? Calm down and stay with me.”

But it didn’t matter. For some reason, he simply could not get the necessary air. Terror runs through me. Have I done this to him? Did my antidote make it worse, and start to kill him even quicker?

I throw myself over him and place my hand at the pulse on his neck. It’s fluttering frantically and abnormally, rather than settling as I had hoped. He’s going to die.

Desperate, I brace myself on his sternum and, before I can even consider the wisdom of it, I press down once, twice, three times. Then I draw back, tilt his head back, and breathe into his mouth.

Warwick needs air? Fine, he can take it from me. I’ve got plenty. I can spare him some.

“Come on, Warwick, we can do this,” I say through gritted teeth.

Over and over again, I pump his chest and then breathe for him, feeling the way that his struggles weaken beneath me. It seems to go on forever, but it can’t have been more than a few minutes, the seconds dragging on. It’s futile, a voice in the back of my mind tries to convince me. He’s dying, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, his heartbeat slowing with every breath.

It isn’t until he goes still that I stop. I reach up with a trembling hand and feel for his pulse. There’s nothing there.

The antidote didn’t work. He was gone.

I don’t know how long I sat there. The Supernaturals didn’t stir. Dane remained slumped on the ground some distance away. Warwick remained still beside me, even as the last bit of light disappears and washes the field in darkness, lit only by the half-moon overhead.

This is so much worse than David, I reflect dully. David might have disappeared without a trace, but at least I never had to see his body, at least I never had to face the fact that I failed to save him.

It takes me a moment, feeling blank and tired, wishing that I could just close my eyes and never wake up, before I realise. I’m oddly warm, despite the cool night air blowing around me. I frown slightly.

Not just warm. Hot. As though I’m sitting right next to a fire.

Wait… fire?

I scramble back before I’m consciously aware of doing so. Just in time, too; I’m only just out of range when Warwick’s body suddenly bursts into flame.

I stare, stunned. What was happening?

I watch as the fire burns for a moment, and then fades as quickly as it came, Warwick’s clothes still burning off him. Once the fire is out completely, Warwick gasps and surges upward, coughing harshly as ash falls from his mouth. The cut from Dane on his shoulder is completely gone.

“What the… what the hell?” Warwick finally wheezes out, looking at his own hands, as stunned to see himself apparently alive and well as I am.

I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to think about how it happened. Warwick had been gone, and my whole world had fallen apart without him. Now he’s sitting up, staring around him. He’s alive.

He’s back with me.

I throw myself forward and Warwick turns in time to catch me as I slump forward into his arms, my body shaking as the tears finally come. He’s here, he’s safe, he’s alive.

As I clutch his arms, being held close as we both come to terms with what just happened, I know that I never want to let him go. Warwick is it for me, now. Losing him had been the worst thing in the world, and I never want to go through that again.

I never want to be apart from him, ever.

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