Page 57 of The Onyx Covenant

“Come back,” I whisper. “Please.”

For several agonizing heartbeats, nothing happens. The night seems to hold its breath around us, the river’s angry cry the only sound besides my ragged breathing.

Then Theron convulses suddenly, his body jerking beneath my hands. He coughs violently, and I quickly roll him onto his side as water pours from his mouth. His eyes fly open, wide and disoriented, as he gasps desperately for air.

After a small moment, he quiets down.

“Thank the moons,” I whisper. “Welcome back from the dead.” Relief leaves me lightheaded.

He blinks rapidly, coughing up more water, struggling to focus on my face. “What…?”

“You died,” I tell him, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. “Fuck, I would have been so pissed if you died.”

A surprised laugh escapes him, followed by more coughing. He reaches up to touch the wound on his head, wincing when his fingers come away bloody.

“Youwould have been pissed?” he asks, voice raspy.

“Don’t you dare ever die on me, understand?” I snap, the fear I felt still too raw, too close.

His gaze softens as he focuses on my face. “See? I knew you loved me.”

I look away, unwilling to let him see how true his words might be. “You’re delirious from nearly drowning.”

Theron tries to sit up, grimacing with the effort. “Something feels gritty in my throat.” He makes a smacking sound with his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth. “Tastes like… what the hell did you give me?”

“Moondust,” I admit. “Mixed with my blood.”

His eyes widen. “What the…?”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” I shoot back defensively.

“You gave me blood magic?” There’s no disgust in his voice.

“It’s not blood magic,” I correct him. “It’s an ancient healing remedy. Moondust is made from rare plants that grow only in the Valley of Mists, combined with powdered moonstone and… yes, fine, some animal bone dust. My mother gave it to me before the ritual.”

His expression softens, and he reaches for my hand. “Where are the others?”

“The river took them downstream. I saw them briefly, but they were already far ahead when I got you out.” I squeeze his hand, then release it, suddenly aware of our naked state. “We need to rest and patch up that head wound. You got hit hard.”

Only then does Theron’s gaze drift over my nakedness, a familiar heat igniting in them despite his weakened state.

“Even on your deathbed?” I state, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, deathbank, I suppose.” His mouth quirks in that half smile that always made my heart skip. “Not the most dignified place to die and come back.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop my own smile. “Can you stand? We need to find shelter.”

With considerable effort, I help Theron to his feet. He sways dangerously, and I slip under his arm, taking his weight. We move slowly along the river’s edge, searching for better shelter than the exposed bank.

The wolves are visible on the cliff above, their stares gleaming in the darkness as they pace restlessly. I want to get out of their sight as quickly as possible in case they are waiting to see where we settle before they attack.

“Shadow beasts,” Theron mutters, following my gaze upward. “That’s what my father calls them. Says they’re not true wolves, that they’re tainted by old magic from before the packs formed.”

“The priestesses call them moonshades,” I reply. “They say they refused to choose between Umbra and Elios, so both moons cursed them to never shift, to remain forever in one form.”

“Poetic,” he says with a weak chuckle. “But right now, I’m just glad they can’t climb down that cliff.”

“Not for lack of wanting to,” I observe as one particularly large beast snaps its jaws in frustration.

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