“Fine?” She twisted in my hold, her hands skimming over my chest, searching for injuries. “He just said…”
“I heal,” I cut her off. “You don’t need to worry about me.” But she was already worrying, her pulse hammering through the bond, wild and frantic.
Draugr didn’t soften. “He’ll heal faster if he feeds. And he needs the venom purged before it takes hold.”
Her eyes went wide, her grip tightening around my shirt. “Takes hold? What does that mean?”
I cursed under my breath, finally setting her down, though my hands didn’t leave her shoulders. I crouched in front of her, forcing her gaze to mine.
“It means demons don’t fight clean,” I said, steady, controlled. “Their venom eats at you. Weakens you. Makes you something less than you are if it isn’t burned out fast enough. But I’ve handled worse, Sorcha. You don’t need to be afraid.”
But she was. I could feel it through the bond, feel it knotting in her chest. I ran my hands over her arms, her sides, lower, checking every inch of her with brutal care. “Did they touch you?” My voice was harsh now, demanding. “Did they scratch you? Bite you?”
She shook her head, her lip trembling. “No. I don’t think so. I…I don’t feel…”
“Not good enough.” My hands kept moving, sweeping over her legs, her wrists, her throat, searching for even the faintest mark. If they’d so much as grazed her skin she would need blood immediately, and then I would need to try and suck the venom out of her system, but there was nothing. She was clean, untouched.
Only then did I let out the breath I’d been holding, crushing her back into my chest, my arms locking around her like a manacle. “Good girl,” I rasped, my mouth against her hair. “You’re clean. They didn’t touch you.”
Her arms slid around me, tentative but tight. “But you’re not,” she whispered. “Lucien, what if…”
“Nothing,” I growled, pulling back just enough to make her see my eyes. “Nothing will happen to me. Not while you need me. I’ll purge it, I’ll heal, and I’ll still be here tomorrow, and every fucking day after. You understand me?” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she nodded, shaky.
Draugr stepped closer, his voice cutting through the haze. “Get her out of here. I’ll have the site cleaned. And Lucien, don’t wait too long.”
I ignored him, kissing Sorcha’s temple again, whispering only for her, “You are all that matters. Let’s go baby, we will be home soon.”
Jericho already had the SUV door open, his jaw tight, eyes flicking between me and the carnage still smoking on the road. I carried her in, settling her in the backseat before climbing in beside her. Jericho slid into the driver’s seat without a word. Behind us, Troy stayed, blade in hand, already moving to back Draugr as headlights cut through the dark, but it was more of our men arriving to clean and secure.
The vehicle rumbled to life, the night flashing past in a blur of shadow as Jericho pushed the engine hard. My body burned, every pulse a reminder of the venom crawling under my skin, but I held Sorcha tighter, burying my face in her hair, grounding myself in her scent.
When we finally reached the mansion, she didn’t wait for me to argue. The second Jericho opened the door, she was tugging at me, her small hands braced against my chest as if sheer will alone could move me.
“Inside,” she ordered, her voice trembling but firm.
I let her drag me in, not because I couldn’t walk but because it soothed the panic in her eyes to think she was leading me. We made it to our bedroom, the doors slamming shut behind us.
“Sit,” she snapped, pointing at the edge of the bed.
I raised a brow. “You’re giving orders now?”
Her chin lifted, that stubborn fire sparking in her gaze. “You’re hurt; the Demons have poisoned you. So yes, please sit so I can clean your wounds.”
Damn, she was fire. Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the mattress, stripping my shirt away to bare the ragged gouges across my back. Her sharp intake of breath was like a blade to my chest.
“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, moving to fetch the kit from the adjoining bath.
“Clean it,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I intended. “Wet a cloth with hot water. Then clean it with alcohol. It’ll sting, but it won’t kill me.”
Her hands shook as she worked, but she didn’t stop, didn’t flinch even when the blood smeared across her fingers. She cleaned carefully, biting her lip as if trying not to cry, and I let her. Let her take control of this moment, because she needed it as much as I did.
When she finally finished, her hands pressed flat against my shoulders, holding me in place. “Now please feed.”
I turned, catching her face in my hands. “Sorcha…”
“Don’t argue with me.” Her eyes flashed. “You said the venom has to be purged. Then take what you need. Feed.”
The bond thrummed between us, electric, undeniable. My restraint cracked. I pulled her into my lap, tilting her head back with one hand. My fangs slid down, and I sank into the sweet pulse of her throat.
