“Says who?” I ask, frustrated in my weakness. Whatever kept them in shadow before doesn’t do so now, and yet I still can’t see them. “Says who?” I ask again, when no one answers.
Someone picks me up, cradles me, but the sun overhead blinds me and I’m forced to only see the halo of light surrounding the dark stranger. The warmth of his arms seeps all the way through me. He carries me toward the water, cradling me, this unknown man. The first splash of the waves doesn’t reach me, and it’s only as he continues to move that I realize what he’s doing. He carries me in, sinking into the ocean until the water comes up around me, swirling around the both of us.
“Be strong, little brightness,” he murmurs.
My consciousness fades within the ocean water as it washes over my calves, my stomach, my arms and face.
And I know no more.
I never even got to see him…
TWENTY-THREE
Rorrick
My soft feetpad across the floor as I walk through the halls in my cat form. Those I pass gush over me, reaching down to pet, making me arch my spine as their fingers stroke along my back. The way they coo at me now versus the way they normally scowl at my face is a totally whiplash effect and I love every second of it. I bask in their adoration scratches. It’s nothing compared to the feeling of Crymson touching me though.
I don’t particularly have a destination in mind. I’m just strolling through the halls, passing the time until I’m able to go see Crymson again. That’s where Seven finds me.
Shifting eyes look both ways around the dark hall before he dips his head and addresses me like a total psychopath talking with too much seriousness to his cute little pet.
He picks me up with both hands around my belly and an involuntary hiss crawls up my throat. The fucker! How dare he man handle me! I am a vampire! A warrior! Not a fuckin’ pet! I squirm in his arms until he drops me roughly back on four paws and I glare up at him around my whiskers.
“I need your help,” he hisses low, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.
I peer up at him through my cat eyes and sit, waiting.
“Shift back,” he orders. “This is important.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Seven look so panicked. This is a man who has mastered fitting in, doing everything not to attract attention. I can’t remember a time I’ve ever seen true panic in his eyes. Usually, it’s only disdain for me. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever asked me for help either.
I shift, mostly because I’m curious, but also because if Seven feels the need to ask for help, I’ll do what I can. I have a long way to go to make up for the shitty situation that brought us together.
“What is it?” I ask, rolling my shoulders. “Is it the King?”
He shakes his head. “Crymson.”
I tense. “What about her?”
He gestures for me to follow him so I do, trailing behind his storming steps with my much larger ones. He stops outside of Christian’s room where I know she is. When he opens the door and ushers me inside, my eyes scan the room until I find her.
She’s sleeping, her hair spread out across the pillows, her mouth slightly agape. She doesn’t stir at our entry. She doesn’t even twitch when Seven grimaces and gestures to her.
“Do you notice anything about her?” he asks. He doesn’t bother lowering his voice, as if he doesn’t think she’ll wake.
I keep my voice low, not wanting to wake her with my booming voice. “Like what?”
“Just look at her,” he hisses. “Really look.”
So I do. I peer over at her sleeping form, taking in everything. She’s under the covers, the comforter rising and falling with her deep breaths, but that’s not what I focus on. Her face is sticking out, her head on the pillow, and for the first time since she came here, I realize how exhausted she looks. Dark circles ring her eyes. Her cheekbones are gaunt.
I look over at Seven sharply. “Is she sick?”
Humans get sick. I know that. I’ve watched my fair share of them die from ailments I could never understand. They’re frail. Things as simple as a little plague will wipe out a continent of them like they’re nothing. But Crymson is half dark fae. Or so we’re told. She shouldn’t be sick. This shouldn’t be happening.
“She’s starving,” Seven growls. “You were wrong.”
My brows furrow. “Impossible. They need to eat more than us but--”
