War of Hearts(83)

Her eyes widened in horror as a vampire, a blur of movement, ripped the silver knife out of Conall’s gut and plunged it into his neck.





*



The agony was momentary.

Conall stared across the room at Thea as the knife plunged into him, the pain so intense, he almost blacked out.

However, the sound of Thea’s scream was so unearthly, so forceful, it blew like a gale into him with such an impact it kept him with her. The physical manifestation of her grief was the last thing he felt before his body went numb.

He seemed to float, weightless, except for the crushing pain of watching Thea’s grief-stricken face. The heartbreaking horror in her expression made him feel desperate and powerless.

He’d never said he loved her.

Conall tried to feel his lips, to make the words come out, but before he could, blackness spilled into the edges of his vision as Eirik grasped Thea by the throat. Her eyes blazed bright gold.

There was a jeweled-handled knife of silver-gray metal in Eirik’s hand. Pure iron.

Conall wanted to lunge forward, to save her, the howl of his wolf trapped and screaming inside.

But as Eirik moved to plunge the knife into Thea’s heart, she swiped a hand over the incoming blade and it turned to liquid, splattering in thick mercury to the floor, the jewels from the handle rattling across the floorboards like marbles. Eirik snarled in outrage and tightened his grip on Thea’s throat but …

Conall blinked in amazement, forcing the darkness back, as Thea began to shimmer. Eirik hissed, baring his fangs, as he dropped Thea and stared at his palm.

His burnt raw palm.

Thea’s gaze moved back to Conall and tears slipped down her cheeks. He tried to say how he felt with his eyes and perhaps the message read loud and clear because Thea abruptly threw back her head and let out a piercing scream.

Light exploded out of her body, and Eirik and the vampires at his back screeched in agony as it tore through them.

Then they were gone.

Every one of them.

Piles of ash remained, dust dancing in the rays of pure sunlight beaming from every part of Thea’s body.

Relief soothed Conall’s pain.

She was safe.

His mate was safe.

And so he let the darkness come for him.





Shuddering through the fiery heat unlike anything Thea had ever experienced, she gasped for breath as the blinding white light disappeared, and she could see again.

Her clothes stuck to her skin, soaked with sweat as she took in the piles of ash where Eirik and his vampires had once stood.

She’d killed them.

All of them.

Her eyes flew to Conall, collapsed, surrounded by six piles of ash.

He was covered in blood.

So much blood.

Terror flooded Thea.

“Conall.” She flew across the room and reached for his chest. Relief almost suffocated her when she felt the tiniest flutter from his heart. But there wasn’t much time left, and Thea couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

Scoring a fingernail deep across her wrist, she forced open Conall’s mouth and pressed her bleeding wrist into it. “Come on, come on, drink.”

He didn’t move and her wound sealed, instantly healing.

“Fuck!” Think, Thea, think.

She glanced around in panic and then it hit her. Her eyes flew to the back corner where the iron dagger was on display. Thea was a streak of energy crossing the room, yanking the dagger from the wall, ignoring the blazing agony ripping up her arm from her hand. Her reflexes wanted to drop the knife, but she forced her grip around it, pushing through the pain.

Weakening from the dagger, she fell to her knees at Conall’s side. Fresh sweat glistened along her brow, and she bit her teeth against the scream that tore up from her throat as she dug the blade into her wrist.

It was pure fire.

Tears streamed down her face as she dropped the dagger and pressed her sliced wrist to his mouth. Her blood dripped, the iron-made wound taking longer to heal.

Conall didn’t move.

“No, no, no, no,” Thea panted. “Conall, you have to drink. You can’t leave me.” She bent over him, pressing desperate kisses down his scarred cheek, her tears splashing onto his skin. She rested her cheek against his, her body shuddering with panic. A sob burst out of her. “P-p-please … p-please don’t leave me.”

A grunt, a choking sound, drew her head up.

He was choking on her blood.

Alive.

Healing.

Thea made a garbled sound of pure happiness and cradled his head so he could drink without choking. His eyes didn’t open but he raised a hand to clasp her wrist to his mouth. “Sorry,” she whispered, kissing his temple. “I’m so sorry.”

Then she watched as the wound on his neck healed.

His grip on her wrist eased and when Thea pulled back, his eyes were open.

Thea laughed through her tears. “Hey, you.”

Conall pushed up into a sitting position, tugging Thea into his lap. He buried his head in her neck and they shuddered in each other’s arms for a second as they tried to get a hold on their emotions.

“You almost died,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with grief.

His grip tightened. “But you didnae let me.”

Thea drew back, cupping his face in her hands, wondering how it was possible to need a person so much. Her blood stained his lips, reminding her of how close he’d come to death. The idea was unbearable. Losing her parents left her with a gaping hole in her soul. Losing Conall would obliterate her. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.