Page 124 of Daman
“You’ve made me proud today.” Lazarus knelt beside him and grabbed the necklace, tightly clutching it in his fist. “Self-sacrifice is an honorable death.”
I could’ve killed the angel right then. He spoke of honor when the man I loved lay dying.
“We should go before Belphegor realizes he was tricked,” Lazarus said, standing back up.
“I’m not leaving.” I hugged Daman closer.
“War…”
“No, goddammit. I’m not leaving you.”
“Wait.” Castor turned to Kyo. “What was that story you told me?”
“Which one?”
“About the dragon and his mate.”
“This isn’t the time for stories,” Alastair said, speaking for the first time. “Our brother is dying.”
Dying.The word slashed at my chest. I lightly caressed Daman’s jaw, wishing I could trade places with him. He stared back at me, his lids heavy. I dreaded the moment they closed forever.
“Oh, yeah,” Kyo said. “The one where the dragon shared his life force. But I don’t know if it’s actually possible. It’s just a legend.”
“I’ll try anything,” I pleaded.
“It’s possible,” Lazarus said. “But dangerous. Unlike the binding ritual where mates join their souls, this requires one to halve his own life force. To share his heart, quite literally. If it goes wrong, both of you will die, which is why I didn’t suggest it.”
“War,” Daman croaked. “D-Don’t. Not worth it.”
I brushed his bangs aside. “There you go giving me orders again.”
A faint smile touched his lips before his eyes shut. He was running out of time.
Gusion had looked into my future and saw two souls bound by fate. And one heart shared. As though he’d seen this very moment and knew the choice I’d make.
“It’ll work.” I looked at Lazarus. “I know it will. Tell me what to do.”
***
I was no stranger to pain. Centuries of warfare had acquainted us quite well. But as I repeated the words Lazarus told me to say, it felt like my soul was ripping at the seams. My heart too, the muscle and flesh tearing away, flaying me from the inside.
We had returned to the wolf village behind the barrier to perform the ritual. Lycus had shown us to a cabin, where I’d placed Daman on a cushion in front of the fire and settled beside him, following Lazarus’ instructions.
The ritual was simple enough: an oath followed by the passing of mana from my body to his. Yet, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. The most excruciating.
“He needs to consent to the union and drink some of your blood,” the angel said.
“He can’t,” I hissed through clenched teeth, sweat beading on my brow. My husband was unconscious, barely clinging to life.
“He must. It’s the only way to seal the oath and complete the transfer. Without his consent, the half of your heart has nowhere to go and will wither away. You’ll die in minutes.” Lazarus placed two fingers at Daman’s temple and forced him to wake. A pained whimper escaped Daman’s lips, and the sound tore at the frayed tendrils of my soul. “I know you’re in pain, but you need to stay conscious. Do you accept the gift of life Warrin has given you?”
“Y-Yes.” His voice was so weak.
“Do you consent to his heart merging with yours?”
“Yes.” Daman’s eyes closed again, and his breaths were shallow.
Lazarus nodded to me. “Offer him your blood.”
