Page 119 of Jeweler to the Blessed
Somehow, Hart stood. He crossed the distance to Soren to check that he was actually dead. Whispered words fell from Hart’s lips, and he closed our attacker’s eyes with a soft touch.I wanted to say something—apologize—or yell at him for not letting me take the daggers aimed at me.
None of the words would do.
Again and again, Hart had put me first. Before I could process that in its entirety, his knees buckled. I ran to his side, attempting to shoulder his weight as we fell together to the forest floor.
“Hart.” My words were garbled, my eyes rimmed with tears.
He grunted.
“Can you heal yourself?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Go get Ava. Tell her where I am.”
His breathing was ragged. My gaze shot to his wounds. Blood soaked his right side from the first strike. Each beat of his heart appeared to bring forth more blood from the second chest wound.
Even if I could leave him to get Ava, he wouldn’t be alive when we returned. His eyes fluttered closed. He was fading too quickly. The answer was so simple; I mentally lashed myself as I realized what my hesitation had cost.
Hart’s words from the other day’s attack rang in my head:That was you, Chaos.
“I can heal you.”
He laughed, but it sounded pained. “Don’t?—”
A gurgled cough sounded, and more blood pooled in the wounds.
I had to try, but there had been no instruction manual. I didn’t know what to do. Champions didn’t need adamas to wield magic, but did we need touch? I couldn’t remember—didn’t have time to think too hard about whether I’d learned.
Quickly, I removed my gloves and searched for accessible skin. My hand hovered over his cheek. I cupped it. Warmth flooded between us at thecontact.
“You didn’t have to take both blades, Hart.”
He grinned at that. “Yes, I did.”
“I’m going to heal you.”
Another cough. “Don’t, Chaos.”
I ignored him as I considered what came next. “I just need to feel ...” My mouth caught up with my brain as I completed the sentence: “Lust.”
A half-laugh, half-gurgle sounded beneath me, drawing my gaze back to Hart.
He’d managed to put that stupid smirk on his face, even as he coughed again, pushing more blood from his wounds.
“I’m not sure I’m much of an inspiration at present.”
I clenched my teeth. If he survived, I’d worry about the appropriateness of my actions. Now, I sifted through every lustful thought I’d had of Hart since I’d met him.
There were more than I remembered.
The thrill of Hart’s voice the first time I’d heard it.
His piercing gaze finding mine in Alaric’s workshop.
In his guard’s uniform, Hart pushed me against the wall as he defended me from attackers.
The curl of his lip as he held me against the alley wall at Forest’s Edge.
Hart and I in the tavern, his body above mine. Mine above his. His length thickening beneath me … His hand inches from my skin as I told him my secret.
