Page 92 of Rescued By the Beast
"It won't work!" Balthazar shouts from the other side of the barrier. "He needs an antidote!"
My stomach sinks.
"What are you standing there for? Come and help!" I yell back.
"He can't," Ted replies. "He needs to be invited by someone who lives here. And Mark is unconscious."
"You can come in!" I shout to the wizard. "Hurry up!"
Balthazar hesitates for a second before stretching out his leg, testing the limit. As soon as it crosses the barrier, he runs towards us.
"Who are you?" Ted asks again, his voice lower but full of tension.
I feel their eyes on me. Ethan glances at me sideways, but soon returns his focus to suturing the most serious wounds.
I straighten my shoulders, ready to answer, but then I realise my situation.
I am completely naked.
My hair falls over my breasts, offering improvised coverage, while I remain seated on my heels, with a towel discreetly positioned over my lap, trying to preserve a minimum of modesty. But any wrong move and I'll be exposed.
So I just lift my chin, open my mouth to respond, hesitating when I hear them gasp in surprise.
It takes me a moment to understand what has happened, until I notice their eyes fixed on my neck.
They're looking at the collar.
I take a deep breath and finally reply:
"My name is Sandra, but you know me as..."
"Kitten," Ted finishes my sentence.
I nod, my teary eyes returning to Mark's face, pale beneath the bloodstains.
I hold back my tears; I need to be strong.
"We don't have time for distractions," I force the words out.
"She's right." Balthazar crouches down beside Mark, opening his briefcase on the grass.
Its interior appears empty, with a black lining, but then he puts his arm inside and mutters something. When he pulls his hand out again, he is holding a red potion in a small glass bottle.
"Hold his head," the wizard orders Ted. "He needs to drink this."
Ted doesn't hesitate. Sitting behind Mark, he carefully rests his friend's head on his legs. His gaze wanders over Mark's face — beneath the blood, the skin has taken on an unhealthy greyish tone, the lips turning blue.
Balthazar touches the tube to Mark's half-open lips and pours the liquid in small sips. At first, he chokes, his throat contracting in a weak reflex, but then his body reacts, and he begins to swallow.
None of us dare breathe.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then, slowly, a breath of colour returns to his skin, pushing away the deathly hue. His chest rises and falls at a steadier pace — still weak, but noticeable. His eyelids flutter, he blinks a few times before closing them again.
My heart races.
"He's responding!" My voice is thick with hope.
"This potion stimulates blood production, but the poison is still spreading," Balthazar warns, pointing to the black spots spreading around the wounds.
