Caraval (Caraval, #1)(50)
“You need to stay away from her!” Heat poured off of Julian as he gently peeled Scarlett from the wall. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No … I just need to get up to the room.” She could feel the minutes slipping away, draining her of life, turning her limbs into flimsy strands of gossamer.
“Crimson—” Julian caught her as she started to fall. He was so much warmer than she was. Scarlett wanted to curl into him like a blanket, weave her arms around him as firmly as he’d wrapped his arms around her.
“Crimson, you need to talk to me.” Julian’s voice was no longer gentle. “What happened to you?”
“I … I think I made a mistake.” Her words came out sticky and thick like syrup. “Someone, a girl with very shiny hair and a girl with a waffle … I needed to buy dresses and they made me pay with time.”
Julian uttered several colorful curses. “Tell me they didn’t take a day of your life.”
“No.…” She fought to stay standing. “They took two days.”
Julian’s handsome face twisted, turning lethal, or maybe the whole world was twisting into something lethal. Everything spiraled sideways as Julian picked her up, tossing the cherry-blossom gown over his shoulder. “This is all my fault,” he muttered.
Julian held her close as he carried her up the stairs, down a very wobbly hall, and into what Scarlett took to be their room. All she could see was white. Endless white, except for Julian’s brown face, hovering over her as he gently laid her down onto the bed.
“Where were you … earlier?” she asked.
“In the wrong place.”
Everything was hazy around the edges, like dusty early-morning sun, but Scarlett could see the dark fringe of lashes around Julian’s concerned eyes.
“Does that mean—”
“Shh,” Julian murmured. “Save your words, Scarlett. I think I can fix this, but I need you to stay with me a little longer. I’m going to try to give you a day of my life.”
Scarlett’s head was so muddled, so broken by whatever magic worked its way through her body, that at first she thought she must have misheard him. But that look in his eyes was back, as if he wanted her to be his undoing.
“You would really do this for me?” she asked.
In answer, Julian pressed the pad of a finger to her parted lips.
Metallic and wet and just a little sweet. Bravery and fear and something else she couldn’t distinguish. Dimly, she knew she tasted his blood. It was like no other gift she’d ever received. Strangely beautiful, alarmingly intimate. And she wanted more of it. More of him.
She licked the tip of his finger, but Scarlett hungered to taste his lips as well. To feel them against her mouth and her throat. To experience the solid touch of his hands on her body. She craved the heavy weight of his chest crushed to hers, to find out if his heart beat equally fast.
Julian’s finger lingered a moment longer, pressing her lips back together, but the taste of his blood remained. And her desire for him intensified. He hovered over her, and she could hear the rhythmic beat of his pulse. She’d been sensitive to his presence before, but never more than this. She was mesmerized by his face, the dark freckle beneath his left eye, the subtle sharpness of his cheekbones, the line of his chiseled jaw, the coolness of his breath on her cheek.
“Now I need some of your blood.” His voice was so gentle, made of gentle, the same way his blood had been made of everything he was feeling.
Scarlett had never felt so close to another person. She knew she would give him what he asked for—whatever he asked for—that she would eagerly let him drink a part of her the way she had him. “Julian,” she said in a whisper, as if anything louder would destroy the delicacy of the moment, “why are you doing this?”
His amber-flecked eyes met hers, and something in them made her breathing hitch. “I’d think that answer was obvious.” He took one of her cool hands and held it near to his knife, but she imagined he waited for her permission. And she knew, he wasn’t doing this because of the game; this felt like something entirely separate, existing only for the two of them.
Scarlett pressed down on the tip of the blade. A single drop of ruby blood welled. Carefully Julian brought her finger to his mouth, and when his soft lips touched her skin the entire world shattered into a million shards of colored glass.
Her dying heart beat faster as his tongue gently drew her finger between his teeth. For a moment she could feel his emotions again, as close as if they were her own. Awe mixed with fierce protectiveness, and a thread of pain so intense she wanted to take the hurt from him. Her finger dipped deeper in, pressing against one of his sharp incisors. Days before, she’d stiffened at his touch, but now she wished she were strong enough to wrap her arms around him.
Not quite sure how far she’d already fallen, she imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.
He licked her finger a final time; a shiver coursed through her so painfully cold it felt hot. Then he was lying beside her on the bed, weighing it down as he brought her into the cradle of his arms. Her back fit perfectly against his chest, solid and strong. She burrowed against him, attempting to fight off death for another minute and hold on to him instead.
“You’re going to be fine.” Julian stroked her hair as her vision went dark.