Page 13 of Golden Queen
"Fuck!" I hissed, echoing the curse he’d used when he was struggling to register what I had done to him. I ran a hand through my hair, belatedly realizing it was covered in blood—his blood. "Fuck!" I said again, desperately. I leaned down to wipe my hand in the grass.
I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then the man with the dagger in his chest pushed himself over to his back with a groan. I fell on my ass as he sat up, his back to me. I could see the broad outline of his shoulders. His dark head was bent forward, his black hair in disarray. His breaths were short and shallow. He was almost panting.
"I...I'm sorry," I blurted. It was the only thing I could think to say.
He did not answer.
Fear lanced through me then. He would kill me! I had just stabbed him in the chest, and he would kill me for it.Gods, I thought.If I was him, I would kill me for it!
Suddenly, the realization of who he was—whathe was—dawned on me. There was only one kind of person I knew of who could survive a dagger in the heart.
I needed to get out of there, and fast. But my legs didn't seem to want to respond as I contemplated standing up and running away. Without thinking, I scrambled up and went to kneel in front of him.
He lifted his head to look at me. I could have sworn he almost looked amused as those strange black eyes assessed me for a fraction of a second.
But even that small move had cost him. He began to slump to the side. His hand, where it had been clutching the handle of my knife, fell free.
I tried to catch him again, but he was too heavy. There was little I could do as he went over with a huff and lay on his side.
"Pull...it...out," he hissed in little more than a hoarse whisper.
His breathing was even more ragged. I closed my hands around the handle of the dagger. I felt his warm blood under my palm—too warm, I realized. It was almost hot. And there was too much of it. He would bleed out once I removed the knife.
But I also knew the mellitrium would kill him if it stayed there much longer, so I pulled the blade free in one swift move, feeling the hot spray of his blood hit my face.
"Thanks," he groaned.
The oddly pleasant, somehow familiar scent of his blood filled my nostrils. I couldn't place what it smelled like, but the strength of it told me there was a hell of a lot of it even though I couldn't see very much of it. It mostly blended in with the wet grass under us.
I pushed the man to his back and straddled him, shoving both my hands down over the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He didn't react, even as I put my full weight on the hole in his chest trying to stop that hot, oddly smelling blood coursing from his body. He was fully unconscious, I realized, as I held my hands on his chest and looked down at his face.
He was beautiful—divinely so. His face was such a perfect mix of harsh angles and smooth, flowing lines. Long, straight nose and full lips, a chin with just the barest hint of a cleft down the center, intense dark brows, now relaxed in unconsciousness, and long lashes laying against a cheek lightly spotted with blood. His blood...or the man he had saved me from?
The thought of my attacker brought my gaze up sharply. I saw no one. The dark street was empty, but I chastised myself. I could have been attacked again while staring dumbly at this man's face.
I needed to get out of there, but I couldn't let go of the pressure on his wound until the bleeding stopped. Fae or not, he would bleed out in minutes if I didn't control it until his own unnaturally fast healing body could take over.
I no longer had any doubt that he was fae. Even if he had not just survived a knife to the heart, I could sense his other worldliness. He had some indefinable quality that set him apart from everyone, and I could smell that strangely alluring scent of his blood.
The man beneath me was at least part fae, and I would be willing to bet he was full fae by the way it had taken him so long to even fall unconscious with mellitrium in his heart.
Mellitrium, or magebane, as some called it, was one of the only physical weapons effective against the fae. If my blade had not been mellitrium, it might not have even pierced his flesh, at least not under my weak arms.
I held my hand on his chest until I saw his breathing become more even.
I dared to release the pressure a little, waiting to see hot blood covering my hands again. None appeared.
My arms screamed painfully as I released the rest of the tension and relaxed. His shirt, my hand, the ground, my clothes, and my arm halfway up to my elbow, were all covered in red. There was so much of it!
I satback, letting loose a sigh of relief that at least the bleeding had stopped as I contemplated what to do next. I should leave, get back to the castle as quickly as I could, and hope no one saw me in my bloody state.
But I couldn’t just leave him there, vulnerable. I had no idea how long he might remain unconscious.
I leaned down and shook him by the shoulder. "Hey, wake up." I tried to keep my voice low in case the houses behind us were not as empty as they looked.
He didn't respond, so I lightly slapped his cheek. The skin was so warm under my palm, much warmer than a human man would have been. I had the strangest urge to linger there, to slide my hand along his cheek and see if it would feel as smooth as it looked above the line of dark stubble.
I reached down to slap him again and promptly lost the fight with myself not to touch him as I let my hand rest against his face. Some inexplicable calm relaxed my shoulders and slowed my racing heart. It settled blissfully in my chest and along my spine, raising chills down my sides. His eyelids fluttered open.
