Page 72 of Savage Sacrifice
The gray tinge to Tatum’s cheeks softens, the color rushing back through his body as he takes from Blaze. I look at my vampire, a frown instantly marring my face as I realize the color Tatum has gained has been lost from the man in question.
“Blaze,” I breathe, but he either ignores me or doesn’t hear me. The latter can’t be possible, I’m right here, so I call his name again. “Blaze!”
“Let him do his thing, Polaris,” Lincoln mutters calmly, running his fingers over my forearm with reassurance, but I shake him off.
“Let him do his thing? He’s going to kill himself to heal him,” I snap back, feeling lightheaded as I blink between the two of them.
“Oh, fuck,” Lincoln grunts, noticing the same thing as me, and Blaze chooses that moment to sway on his feet.
Squeezing Tatum’s hand, ready to let go so I can get to Blaze, I startle when he softly squeezes me back. “He just responded to my touch,” I blurt, glancing from where we’re connected to where Blaze stands. “He’s responding, Blaze. Stop now,” I insist, and his eyelashes flutter, the slightest acknowledgment that he’s heard me before he retracts his arm.
He sways on his feet and I quickly lift Tatum’s hand to my mouth, pressing the tiniest kiss to his knuckles before I release my hold on him and dart around the table, but I’m not fast enough. Blaze hits the floor with athud.
I’m on my knees once again, beside one of my fallen men, and I think my heart is ready to shatter. I can’t take any more of this. I just can’t.
“Blaze,” I breathe, sweeping my thumb over his cheek, but he doesn’t respond.
“Polaris?” The rasp of my name is a question from the injured wolf hovering above me. His eyes find mine, calming my worry over him, but it does nothing to aid me now with Blaze.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Tatum. Just rest. You need rest. I’ve got this,” I insist, rushing to my feet as Lincoln stares helplessly at the limp vampire on the tiled floor.
Brushing my hair back off my face, I try to take a calming breath so I can think like Blaze. If I’m learning anything, it’s that he has the ability to act with calmness, and he always seems to find a way. That’s what I need to do right now.
I close my eyes, picturing him in my mind as I search for the slight pull inside of me that I know belongs to him—our connection.
Our connection.
I’m his devoted.
And he said?—
My eyes pop open just as the door at the other end of the house swings open with force, and Wylder, Asher, and Minnie all rush inside. Thankfully, the three of them are wearing some form of clothing, but it’s clear that fear and panic fuel their every step. Although, it eases the moment they see Tatum awake.
Minnie frowns, pointing between the wolf and the vampire as Lincoln rushes her, wrapping his arms around her a moment later. “I thought it was Tatum who was hurt,” she murmurs, and Lincoln hums.
“He was, then Blaze here went and drained himself to heal him.”
“He did?” Wylder says in surprise, and I nod, quickly remembering my idea.
“I need a knife!” I holler, and Asher’s eyebrows rise in question.
“A knife?” he repeats, and I nod.
“Quickly.”
His lips twist, but he doesn’t push the matter further, quickly grabbing one from the block on the kitchen counter and handing it to me.
I’m back on my knees a moment later, the silvery glint of the blade making me gulp as I hold it in my right hand and let the sharp edge rest against my left wrist.
“What the fuck are you doing, Little Witch?” Wylder blurts, but I ignore him, refusing to let anyone try to talk me out of it.
Instead, I slice the blade across my skin, wincing at the nip of pain as I hiss through the sting.
“Polaris,” Tatum breathes, so much worry in that one word, but instead of responding, I hover over Blaze and repeat the same motion I watched him do.
I press my bloody flesh against his lips.
I wait a second, one whole second before his eyes pry open, wild and feral as his hand wraps around my arm, pinning my wound to his lips.
