Wicked (A Wicked Trilogy #1)(102)

I was going to die.

In that moment, the clarity of the situation rang out. Before, I believed I hadn't been afraid of dying but of living while everyone else perished around me, but I was wrong. A terror I never knew before rose like insidious smoke, choking me. I didn't want to die. Not now. Not when I'd just started to really live again. Not when I was falling for Ren, falling in—love? Oh God. The too little, too late realization cut deeper than the physical pain, lighting up my chest. Tears rushed my eyes, but I could barely see out of them as it was. They didn't seem to be working right.

Pain . . . pain was everywhere. With every breath I took it overloaded my senses. Something important inside me had come unhinged, split wide open. A searing hurt roared through me as I felt the prince kneel over me, his knees on either side of my body. I tried to lift my arms, but every nerve ending was firing in rebellion. A darkness clung to the edges of my consciousness, outlining the world around me in a smoggy haze. My tongue felt too heavy as the prince's blurry face came into view.

"You should've left when you had the chance, little bird." Disgust cloaked his tone, and then he leaned down, his face in mine. "I gave you the . . ." He trailed off, inhaling deeply, audibly.

I sensed that the prince had frozen above me, and then I felt his hand on my cheek. He raised it to his mouth, his fingers tipped in red. The encroaching darkness was spreading, but I thought . . . I thought he had tasted my blood, and that just put the fuckity in the fuck.

He jerked back, and I had the distinct impression that his skin had paled and then he was in my face again. "No," he said.

Then he made a sound that reminded me of a curse before whispering a word I didn't understand—a word that was English, but couldn't have been what I thought he'd said.

Reaching between us, he gripped the collar of my shirt with both hands and tore it open like it was made of tissue paper. My heart, weak and spent, stuttered as a different kind of panic set it. He placed his hand on the center of my chest, and his hand didn't roam, but his . . . his palm warmed and the heat scalded my skin, burning deep into the tissue and muscles. The strangest fire rushed through me.

A door somewhere burst open, wood splintering against the wall. There were shouts—some recognizable but sounding so very far away. The prince rose with a rush of chilled air. He seemed to collapse into himself, and where a man once stood, there was only a raven.

The creature spread its majestic wings, like two feathered arms. The raven rose to the ceiling, disappearing out of my sight, and that . . . that one word cycled over and over in my scattered thoughts as someone hit the ground next to me. The voices increased, and I thought that maybe it was Ren beside me, that maybe he was the one touching me so carefully, but all I could hear was that one word the prince had whispered.

Halfling.





Chapter Twenty Three





Time . . . time moved strangely for me. I had no real concept of it. All I became aware of at some point was that I'd been moved from the rough carpet and placed on something much softer. A bed maybe? Then I'd eventually heard a low beeping that was persistent, ticking away in the background—a heart monitor. Once I managed to open my eyes—my one eye actually—through my blurred vision I was able to make out the off-white drop ceiling and low lights. There was a distinct antiseptic scent permeating the air. Dumbly, I realized I must've been in a hospital, and if I was here instead of headquarters, then things were serious, but I was too tired to chase that thought.

I had no idea how much time passed like that, when I would become aware of my surroundings for a few moments here and there. Once I thought I felt Ren near me. Another time I thought I heard Val's laughter, but that thought didn't make sense to my addled mind. There were reasons why I hadn't heard Val's laughter. And then there were other moments when I woke up and the only thing I could think about was what the prince had said to me.

Halfling.

This time, though, as I crawled through the darkness, I was about to pry one of my eyes open, and when I blinked, bringing the ceiling back into focus, I didn't fade away immediately.

I drew in a deep breath and winced as dull pain radiated up and down my sides. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt raw like I swallowed a mouthful of nails. The more moments that danced on by, the more pain I became aware of. My face hurt. Hurt like I'd run face first into a brick wall then motor-boated it. My jaw ached, so did my left eyeball—like my entire eyeball. A steady throbbing emanated from my right wrist. A fire burned bright in my ribs.

Waking up sucked. God.

I wiggled my fingers, relieved to find that they worked. Next, I would attempt my toes, but before I could do the system check, there was movement in the room.

The bed dipped slightly, and then I saw the most beautiful green eyes, two emerald jewels plucked out of a mine and placed behind thick lashes, shining out from a striking set of features that I'd come to . . . love. My heart started racing, and the beeping matched the pace. I loved him. I did. Somehow it had happened in the mix of all of this.

"Hey," he said softly, staring at me like a man who never thought he'd be holding this conversation. "There you are sleepy-butt. You gonna stay with me this time?"

I focused on him with my one eye as emotion built in my throat. What put me here, in this bed, lingered in the back of my mind, not forgotten, but just . . . there. "Hey," I managed to croak.