Page 50 of Friend
It wasn’t working.
My ears rang, as her chest remained unmoved under my palm.
‘Use her mark,’ Kiania moved beside me, and I could sense the urgency in her voice.
I paused, panting, and my attention turned to my hand.
Hurt her?
‘You need to do it!’ Kiania nudged her head against my shoulder. ‘If you send a surge of your power through the bond, the shock should wake her.’
But…
Being touched on her mark by anyone other than her quintet would be uncomfortable, at the very least, but at worse, seriously painful for her. What Kiania was suggesting… For me to force power through that connection…
She’d be in agony.
‘Better for her to be in pain than dead,’ Kiania warned. ‘Shock her. She’s not waking up and you’re running out of time.’
I had a split-second to decide, and as I watched, her lips turned blue.
Damn it.
I pushed my hand under the bottom of her bra, directly against the blackish green mark at the bottom of her breast. I hadn’t even done anything with my abilities yet, and her features already began to twist in discomfort.
But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t breathing.
Whatever this was supposed to do, wasn’t working.
Energy throbbed under my hand, and the ends of my fingers sizzled as a growing heat began to rise in me.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the red-hot fire always wavering the back of my vision, turning even the darkness behind my eyelids bright. I could almost taste the dry, desert air—could almost feel the warmth of the sun across my face. And I gathered it—the power of the Underworld that strayed into my grasp—and forced it through our connection.
My eyes flew open as Bianca’s back arched, and the loud strangled half-gasp, half-scream was surprisingly welcome to my ears. I pulled my hand away and she sucked in a choking breath before she turned her back to me and began to cough up water.
“It’s okay.” I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her in any way that I could; and my stomach turned at the knowledge that I’d contributed to her pain.
The only onmyoji who could ever reach her through her mark without causing her pain was Damen, and right now, I hated him for it.
But… It worked.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she began to cry in between gasps—deep, halting, heart-wrenching sounds—and my heart twisted.
“It’s fine now,” I repeated, pulling her hair back away from her face. I didn’t even care that she was puking up water—and usually such things would gross me out.
It was worth it.
“You’ll be okay.” As she continued to cough, my vision drifted to her hands, and an anger began to move in place of concern.
I’d only just now taken in the state of her clothing. Her shirt was ripped—and it was from nothing I had done.
I was going to kill him.
I pulled at the bindings around her wrist, freeing her. She brought her fingers to her chin as she curled in on herself.
The sight of it caused my rage to deepen.
I’d been protecting her from this—and the idea of this—foreight years. My every waking moment had been lived for her. Who the hell did Adrian Collins think he was dealing with?
