Page 107 of Bound
For a moment, I can only stare at the dancing tendrils. Then my lips spread into a broad smile and I let out an excited yelp of happiness.
“Gage! I did it.”
His chuckle warms me to my toes as the keys continue to clack. “You did, baby. You’re too damn strong for it not to work.”
I beam and rush back to his side. “I don’t know how long it will hold them though,” I admit.
He hits a long bar on the contraption before him and looks up. The door to the glass room opens with a slight whoosh of air. I run toward it, pulse racing.
“Amoret!” Gage calls after me.
But I barely hear him.
I rush into the room, crinkling my nose at the scent of human chemicals. Branwen is dead center of the room, and as I step to his side, my limbs shake with fear at how small he seems. How frail.
My hands tremble as I grip his face. “Branwen? Brother mine?” There is no response and my heart dives. “Bran?” I shake him a little. “Please. Wake up.”
“Amoret, they were sedated.” Gage’s voice is gentle as he steps to my side. In his hand, he carries a short syringe. The needle glints in the overheads.
I stare at it. “What are you doing?” I ask, frantic.
He looks at me. “This is epinephrine,” he says. “I’ve used it on myself before. It’s safe for Fae. Think of it as an extreme dose of coffee.”
My hands grip my dress. “And it will … wake them up?”
“It should.”
Still, I hesitate.
All the tubes running into their bodies are abhorrent. The Fae use herbs to heal sickness. And magick. Not human technology. The taint of it is strong in the air. But …
I glance at Bran’s closed eyes, and my stomach knots. “Okay,” I whisper.
He eases me a few steps away. “When he comes to, he will be disoriented.” Gage’s emerald eyes are fierce. “Stay back.”
Biting my lip, I can only nod.
He tosses the sheet covering Bran to one side, exposing his lean thigh. Gage leans over, needle in hand. I tense, wanting and not wanting to see what he is doing.
But I trust Gage. I trust him with my life and my brother’s life.
He stands back upright, one moonlight hand massaging Bran’s muscle as his lips move slowly.
I step closer. “Gage? Did it—”
Bran sits bolt upright, his eyes wide and his hair like a flaxen curtain behind his back. Bruises mar his face, one arm, and much of his torso. He peers around fast, every motion harried. Frightened. His eyes spin with three lines of color. Sapphire, violet, and sky blue. The mix is dizzying, volatile. He snarls.
Gage takes a cautious pace back from Bran’s bed. “Branwen? I’m Captain Whitehorn. Do you remember me?”
Bran’s focus remains locked on him, his teeth bared in a feral gnash of teeth. He lunges but draws up short as all the wires and tubes tug against his skin. The growl grows louder.
Gage drops the needle and presses both hands to Bran’s shoulders. “Branwen? Branwen Knyt, snap out of it.”
Bran bucks under his hold. “Traitor. Villainous filth.” Every word flies from Bran’s lips like venom.
Gage grunts and presses harder. “It’s Gage. Gage Whitehorn.”
Bran’s lean frame rolls under Gage’s hold and his fist flies. Gage sidles to one side, letting the blow glance off one arm before locking his hand around Bran’s golden throat. My brother chokes.
