Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(41)

My neck ached as I turned my head. Through blurry vision, I saw Roarke, hovering behind the demon. His clothes were blood-soaked and dirty, and concern shadowed his eyes. My gaze dropped to his hands which were clenched into fists.

I opened my mouth, trying to ask what had happened, but my head swam. Something cool flowed over the wounds in my chest, followed immediately by a searing, molten-iron agony.

Blackness took me.

I floated in the dark, free of pain. Visions flashed across my mind. Memories. Me, lying in the pit. Roarke, tall and strong in his Were-demon form, jumping down beside me. Blood poured from wounds piercing his chest and stomach, but he bent and picked me up, cradling me to his chest.

His wings spread wide, and he lifted us both gracefully into the air.



When I woke again, the healer was gone. So was most of the pain.

Golden sunlight filtered in through the cracks between the wooden blinds, sending an orange glow across the wooden floor. My head felt like it weighed a million pounds as I turned it to search the room.

Roarke sat on a small sofa near my side of the bed, his head tilted back and resting against the wall. His broad chest rose and fell slowly. He slept. The shirt he wore was cleaner than the other had been, but patches of fresh blood dotted it.

He hadn’t let anyone tend to his wounds.

Stubborn man.

But otherwise, his face looked peaceful in slumber.

My gaze darted around, taking in my surroundings. The room was rustic-chic with a heavy wooden bed and fireplace on the far wall. The ceiling was high with wooden rafters hung with iron lights. Paintings of the forest dotted the walls, and through the windows, I could make out the faintest sound of a rushing river.

We were at his place by the river in the woods. It had the feel of Expensive Mountain Retreat rather than Cabin, but that didn’t surprise me. Between his car and clothes, Roarke was used to the best.

“You’re awake.” His sleep-roughened voice made me jerk my head toward him. A slight pain pierced my skull at the quick movement, but it faded.

Relief was stark on his face. Happiness as well. It made his expression look lighter, as if a weight were lifted off him.

Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that.

He stood, then knelt by the bed. Concern darkened his eyes. “How are you?”

“Okay.” I struggled to sit, my muscles aching and pulling. Though I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, there was no sharp pain like I would have expected from the kinds of deep wounds the demon had given me.

“My healer mended your wounds. The poison is still in your system, but you’ll survive. She gave you another dose of the potion that wards off the transition, but we still need the demon’s blood to cure you.”

And we hadn’t gotten any. Not in that fight, at least. But he’d gotten someone to heal me? “Is that why we’re at your place?”

“Yes. It’s closest to the portal she uses to leave the Underworld.”

“Thanks.” I glanced down to see that I was wearing an overlarge T-shirt. His. My arms weren’t wrapped in bandages. They weren’t even scarred.

I peeked under the neckline of my shirt. My chest was the same, except for the scar from the blade that had killed me.

“Did you put these clothes on me?” I asked. Nerves skated through me. I definitely didn’t want him seeing me naked.

“No. Lofta did.”

“The healer?” An image of her face flashed in my mind. “The demon healer.”

He shrugged. “She’s good.”

“Yeah. She was.” I should be far more injured than this. Dead, even. Though I did feel vaguely disgusting. “But I could use a shower.”

Roarke nodded and stood, wincing.

“You should have let Lofta tend to you.”

“She was tapped out. Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

He strode to the door, then turned back. “Del? I’m glad you’re all right.”

I blinked stupidly. His words were one thing, but his tone…

So grateful. He really cared that I was all right. He’d taken care of me before himself, letting the healer use up all her magic healing my wounds instead of his. And he’d sat by my bedside this entire time.

The gruff Warden of the Underworld was hell of a lot kinder than I’d thought.



Roarke’s shower turned out to be even more amazing than the bedroom. It was a massive slate-tiled thing with the biggest showerhead I’d ever seen. It looked and felt like an actual waterfall. There was even a window overlooking the river and forest, like I was a part of nature.

This guy showered in the forest like a freaking woodland nymph. Albeit a large, scary woodland nymph.

Once I’d cleared some of the cobwebs from my mind, I called upon my dragon sense. What had happened to that demon when the ghostly dragon had carried him off?

And had it actually been a dragon? It sounded crazy. Real dragons had been gone for centuries. And that hadn’t even looked like a real one. It’d been transparent. And blue. Like I was when in my Phantom form.

Too weird.

When I finally climbed out of the magic shower, my muscles felt slightly better. I still couldn’t run, but at least I was walking. I spent a minute standing in front of the mirror, searching myself for signs of transition, but found none, thankfully. The potion was still working.