Page 55 of Obsidian and Frost
“Fine,” he muttered, actually doing as I’d said and slumping down onto my small two-seater beige couch.
As I watched him settle and start to examine his bloodied state, I slipped into my bedroom and locked the door behind me.
As soon as I was through the door, I couldn’t hide it any longer and I stumbled the few steps to my nightstand, finally able to clutch at my chest like I’d been needing to do since just before I’d called Kai for assistance.
Fuck.It burned like a bitch. It was making it hard to breathe. To even think and see clearly.
I made it to my nightstand and pulled out one of my syringes nestled in the bottom drawer.
And then I eased down my tank top, grimacing at the desiccation that was spreading from my pecs all the way down to my stomach—something that had started up when I’d used high-level necromancy and a massive burst of power at that to hold several rabid vampires in the heat of battle and bloodlust at my will.
The pain was the fucking least of it.
It cut at me that I’d had to call for help, that I’d been compromised.
I was no baby necromancer. I was the fucking strongest wielder of necromantic magic across the supernatural world, so revered that I’d been tapped as a vital recruit for Arcanum Order, that people knew of my talents the world over, that the mere mention of my name carried equal parts reverence and fear.
And I’d been unable to finish what I’d started with suspending those vampires?
I cursed under my breath.
“Everything all right?”
I jolted. Of course he’d heard that. With his wolfandAncient vampire hearing combined with his current paranoid state, he was likely aware of every little motion of even the leaves of the trees rustling outside.
“Fine. There are wipes in the small bathroom by the kitchen. How about you get cleaned up?”
I heard muttering, but then he actually followed mysuggestionagain and I heard the thump of his heavy footsteps, then the opening of the bathroom door.
I couldn’t take any chances, though, so I grabbed the syringe and made my way into the ensuite with shaky limbs, turning on the taps for good measure.
Then I brought the syringe to the central site of the desiccation and injected it.
I only just managed to suppress a groan as the grayish tint started to disappear, the natural state of my skin returning, and my strength along with it. Every time the desiccation started up, it also impacted my power, forcing my magic back and making it that much harder to draw upon, creating some sort of barrier.
But as the serum got to work, my eyes rolled back in my head as what had been held at bay surged forth, rolling through my system again.
Much better.
I strode back into the bedroom with a strength that I no longer took for granted, and returned the empty syringe to the drawer. I’d fill it up later once I was alone. Fortunately, before I’d left here several days ago for Wraeven Academy, I’d spelled the area of the kitchen where the serum was constantly being made so that it couldn’t be seen or sensed by anyone, and it appeared to anyone looking in on the space as though the table and shelves actually covered with my serum-making equipment were empty.
I sucked in a breath and moved to my dresser, rummaging for a few moments before pulling out a pair of black sweatpants and a white tee.
I took them with me, then opened the bedroom door and walked back out to the living room.
Lazriel emerged in the very next moment, his clothes still covered in blood and flesh, and hell knew what else, but his skin now cleansed of it.
“Here,” I said, tossing him the clothes.
He caught them and cocked an eyebrow. “You think I’m staying here for more than a few minutes? Like staying the actual night here?”
“Can you calm down within a mere few minutes?”
He ground his jaw.
“Fear not,wolfie, I don’t intend to jump you. So feel free to relax.”
“There’s no fear.”
