Page 125 of Cursed Evermore
A kiss of life.
A kiss of malice.
A kiss ofvengeance.
I didn’t know which one it was. I just knew that he tasted like my undoing and my redemption all in one.
Blue light surged into me, raw and magnetic. It filled every broken part of me with warmth and life and hope renewed whilehe drew out the rot. I felt the moment the leeches tore free. The witch’s darkness ripped from my soul and flowed into his.
Then he flew backward like he’d taken a blade to the chest.
I barely registered Alaric and Garrick rushing toward him. In my frail, half-broken state, my mind reached for him, but I couldn’t move.
Tiny hands slipped into mine. I turned my head and saw Sirril crouched beside me.
“I’m here, my Lady,” he whispered.
But my gaze dragged back to Wolfe just in time to see the shadows writhing within his skin. They moved like living ink, twisting against the light now pulsing through him.
The blue fire burst again. An anguished cry tore from him, splitting the air, then darkness exploded from his body, breaking into smoke and embers that scattered across the deck before vanishing into the wind.
Wolfe collapsed. Alaric caught him before he hit the ground, barely keeping him upright. Even then, when he should’ve been unconscious, his eyes found mine.
And something shifted. Not just between us.
Something beyond him saving me.
Whatever it was, I knew it was something I couldn’t undo.
And I knew deep in my soul that I’d never be the same again.
Chapter 24
Wolfe
“The Other Side of Midnight”
“This is gonna hurt,” Bastian warned, applying the Moonfire poultice onto a padded cotton dressing. “But it should draw out what's left of the Ruskiel’s poison.”
“Just give it to me.” I leaned against the wall and braced myself.
With a deep frown, Bastian applied the poultice against the gash running from my collarbone to my ribs.
Pain ripping through my chest made me writhe. I gritted my teeth against the sting, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue as I stifled my groans.
I wanted to cry out to the heavens and release the anguish burning my throat, but I refused to look any weaker than I already was. Even in front of my best friend.
It was bad enough my comrades saw the toll the fucking Ruskiel’s attack took on me and had tocarry mein here.
It had been an age since I saw the inside of a sick bay. Not for at least a hundred years. But here I was, sitting on a cot, slumped against the wall with jagged wounds all over my body.
The Ruskiel had cut me up badly. Every lash of her tentacles with its razor-sharp claws had dug into my skin.
I supposed I should be grateful I wasn’t flat on my back anymore. That was thanks to Bastian. He’d been working on me for over an hour.
Still, being here at all was a problem. People lost respect when they saw you in a weakened state. The curse had already made my status questionable. I didn't need my comrades thinking any worse of me.
I’d only accepted Bastian’s assistance because I knew he’d be discreet, but more importantly, his healing skills were on par with Arielle and Garrick, who were tending to Elariya.
