Page 57 of The Silver Spider
He lifted his other hand, a second tendril of the pain inducing power joining the first. There was no mercy, no pause. She clawed her way through the barrier Amnan had placed on their bond, cutting his residual emotions off from her. He couldn’t hold it against her half distracted; his pain flooded through her, a bright flash flood of red-hot light and she screamed.
“Serephone,” he gasped.
Her skin was being flayed while red hot pokers danced in her blood.
“Stop it, I’ll do it. I’ll take the damn oath.” He was bleeding. He could bleed out on the floor, shifter fast healing or no.
The pain stopped and Dawnthorne turned towards her. Amnan pushed to his feet, the guards stepping in front of him.
“No, Amnan,” she said. “Just…no.”
“Damn you,” he said. She didn’t know if he meant her or Dawnthorne.
She turned to Dawnthorne. “He needs medical attention. I’ll take your damn oath, but I want him healed first. Otherwise it’s for nothing.”
The Lord nodded, eyes on her face. “Very well. Take him to your suite, and see to his care. You have given your word, Serephone. If you break it, there will be consequences.”
She darted forward and slid an arm under Amnan’s shoulder. He pushed to his feet as if he didn’t need her help, but she felt the growing weakness in him as his blood dripped from the wound. It was sealing, but from the puddle on the floor, the strike had hit something vital. If he’d been human, he’d be dead.
He said nothing until the escort ushered them inside Serephone’s room and left. “You should have fled,” he said.
She didn’t like the flat tone of voice. Whether it was from pain, or anger, it wasn’t his call to tell her what she should have done.
“I wouldn’t have got anywhere. How many warriors does he have? And who knows what kind of gate security, plus magic. Lie down.”
“I’m fine, Serephone.”
“Don't be snippy with me,” she snapped.
He sat on the edge of the bed. His expression was drawn, tension white around his mouth. “I didn’t want you trapped here. You don’t know the fae.”
She crouched at his side, pushing his hand aside to examine his wound. “I am fae, apparently.”
He grimaced. “Blood will tell.”
Her head snapped up. “The fuck does that mean?”
“Forget it.”
Serephone stood. “If you hadn’t followed me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What did I tell you?”
She looked away. “That you would always follow me. I don’t understand why, or what that means.”
“The dragon knows.” He stood. “Where’s the bathroom? No reason to get your bed filthy.”
She pointed, and followed after him. “I'm going to bathe, Serephone,” he said, voice edged. “Unless you want to join me, get out.”
She leaned on the counter, folding her arms. “You lost a lot of blood. You need my help.”
He whirled, crossing the few feet between them and slamming his hands on the counter on either side of her, leaning in with a hot glare. “I’m tired, battle hormones are running around in my blood doing happy dances, the dragon wants to claim its woman, and we’re both in danger. I am not in the mood, Serephone.”
“I can’t leave here,” she said softly. “But you can.”
His eyes closed. “No, I can’t. Not while you’re here.” When they opened, they speared her with a hot, angry stare. “I held back. I knew that this would happen, inevitably. And that if I pissed off Dawnthorne or died, you would be here alone, without an ally.”
“Your father—”
