A Turn of Tides (A Shade of Vampire #13)(52)

Pain was etched across his face and as I lowered my gaze to his shoulders, I gasped.

Where his left arm should have been was a bleeding stump.

I leapt back on the bed, rubbing my eyes, and took in the full room for the first time.

Abigail and Erik stood in a corner, watching us, and on the floor a few feet away from them was the headless corpse of… a ghoul.

“Wha-What happened?” I croaked, even as understanding began to dawn on me.

Kiev reached out the only arm he had and caught my hand, pulling me back down to his level.

I noticed for the first time then just how sick he looked.

He was shockingly pale—far too much even for a vampire—a sheen of sweat covered his skin, and his whole body was trembling.

“I never stopped loving you,” he wheezed, “that’s what happened.” Oh, no.

No.

Realization crashed down on me like a ton of bricks, winding me completely.

Guilt shattered me into a thousand pieces.

Falling to my knees, I fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” I choked.

“I’m so sorry.” Kiev’s firm grip closed around the back of my neck, forcing me up to look at him.

“Stop, Mona.

It’s not your fault.” I bit down hard on my lip, glancing once again at his horrific wound.

“What happened to your arm?” I rasped.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kiev growled.

He forced me back down on the bed and leant over me, closing his mouth around mine once again.

“I’d readily sacrifice my other one if it meant being able to see you again.” His words sliced me deep.

As if the guilt of doubting Kiev and leaving The Shade wasn’t enough to bear, now I was responsible for this abomination of an injury.

“No!” I cried, gripping the sides of his face.

“Why, Kiev? Why? Why did you allow yourself to get hurt like this!” Anger camouflaged my grief, and I wanted to shake him for putting himself through this for me.

“Shh,” he said, tears beginning to glisten in his eyes.

“I need to ask you something.” He crawled off me, drawing me up into a sitting position on the bed as he stood up on shaky feet.

I cried out as his legs gave way beneath him and he crashed to the floor.

I threw myself at him and cradled his head in my lap, my tears streaming down onto his face.

Erik and Abby hurried to my side.

“He’s lost too much blood,” I said, my voice trembling.

Panic coursed through me as I hovered my palms over his wound.

I was about to start uttering a charm to stem the blood flow and close up the wound when Kiev groaned, forced himself into a sitting position and began attempting to stand up again.

I gripped his arm, trying to pull him back toward me.

“Kiev! You have to let me stop the bleeding!” “Wait,” he coughed, gripping hold of the bed post and straightening.

“Sit here.” He patted the mattress next to him.

“Kiev—” “Please.

Just… sit here.” I jumped up and did as he’d requested, once again attempting to pull him toward me so I could treat him.

He brushed me away.

“Wait,” he repeated.

“I-I’ve already waited too long for this…” Furrowing his brows, he reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a small leather pouch.

His arm was shaking so badly, it was a wonder he didn’t drop it.

My eyes widened as I stared at the object.

“Kiev?” Lowering himself to the floor, he knelt on one knee.

He breathed heavily as he perched the pouch on his kneecap.

He fumbled with the fabric for a few moments before his gaze raised to my face, his intense eyes boring into me.

“This… this isn’t the way I would have chosen to ask you,” he breathed, “but sometimes things just can’t be delayed any longer.” Knocking the pouch away, he opened his palm to reveal a delicate sapphire ring.

“Will you make me the happiest man in all human and supernatural existence… and become Mona Novalic?” I clasped a hand over my mouth.

Streams of tears turned to rivers.

Falling to my knees on the floor next to him, I gripped his hair and crushed my lips against his.

“Is that even a question?” I gasped.

His lips curved in a dark smile.

“Well, now I’m one-armed, I thought I ought to check I’m still good enough for you…” “A four-armed god couldn’t satisfy me the way a one-armed Kiev could,” I said, half laughing, half crying.

His hand travelled down my arm and clutched my right hand.

Resting it on his knee, he slid the ring onto my finger.

Then he kissed me again.

And again.

And again.

If I hadn’t held up a finger to his lips, I was sure he could have continued all night.

“If you don’t mind,” I said, drawing away from him, “I’d like to make sure my future husband will still be alive for his wedding.” I placed an arm around his waist and helped him lie back down on the floor.

“Erik,” I called.

“Hold your brother down while I work.

This might hurt a bit and I can’t have him squirming too much.” Erik was quick to assist, and after several minutes of intermittent groaning from Kiev, I’d managed to close up the wound.