Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
“I love you, too. It’s going to be all right,” I reassure him. “Maybe this is what the gods wanted for me all along. Don’t you think?”
Nemeth shakes his head. “I don’t feel like the gods are watching us at all.”
And with that cryptic statement, he pushes the needle in.
Chapter
Seventy
The mood is strange as we wait for the medication—Nemeth’s blood—to take effect.
He holds me for hours. It’s like he’s afraid that if he lets me go, the worst will happen. Even though it’s damp and humid in the old library, I remain locked in his arms, tucked against his chest. We’re both quiet, as if speaking will somehow set things in motion. I don’t tell Nemeth that when his blood enters my veins, it feels hot and a little itchy, and very different from the potion itself.
We wait. And wait.
At some point, I fall asleep in his arms. When I wake up, I can see sunlight streaming through one of the doors into the palace, and the air smells crisp and dewy.
And I feel…good. Surprisingly good.
I sit up in Nemeth’s arms. He immediately straightens, coming out of a deep slumber of his own, and panic is etched across his face. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”
“I think I’m fine?”
“Get up,” he says. “Move around. Let us see if you are dizzy.” There’s a note of tension in his voice. “I do not think we should celebrate too soon.”
Even before I get to my feet, though, I know. After years of living with my blood curse, I know what it feels like when my potion isn’t strong enough. I know the waves of nausea that hit when I miss a dose. I know how it feels when things are off. And it doesn’t feel off right now. I feel good. Amazing.
It feels as if some strange puzzle piece inside me has suddenly locked into place.
I push off of him and bounce to my feet. Gathering up the skirts of my chemise, I laugh and race across the library, kicking books out of the way as I do. Who cares about books at a time like this anyhow? I feel good. I’m not tired. Not drained. Not dizzy. Not feeling as if I’m going to vomit at any moment. Is this how healthy people feel every day? Like they could just run straight to the horizon and keep running?
Lucky bastards.
“Careful, Candra,” Nemeth warns, following after me. “Don’t hurt yourself—”
I surge back toward him, running as fast as I can, and fling my arms around him. The momentum of my jump knocks us both to the ground, and I laugh and laugh and laugh.
I laugh so hard I want to fling myself on the floor and kick my legs like a child. “I’m free,” I whisper, and my voice breaks on a sob. “I’m free.”
“Are you well, love?” He rolls us over, his hands skimming over my body. “Does anything hurt?”
“Mmm,” I say, my arms raised up behind my head in a sensual stretch. I feel as if I can take on the world now. I want to both laugh hysterically and sob like a child for all that this means. “I do have one particular nagging ache.”
“Gods,” he murmurs, running his hands over one of my calves. “Where? Your arm? Your leg? How bad is the ache?”
“Higher,” I tell him, helpfully pulling my skirts up a bit. When he reaches my knee, I sigh. “Keep going higher.”
“Candra,” he growls, and he looks utterly furious. “Do not make light of this.”
“You don’t understand, Nemeth,” I say giddily. I squeeze my folded arms against my chest and shiver all over like a happy puppy. “I feel good! I feel good without the medicine! Do you know how much I’ve hated every dose? How much the scent turns my stomach sometimes? Do you know what this means? It means I’m free!” I choke on the word this time. “I’m bloody free.”
Nemeth grunts, and I can’t tell if he’s pleased along with me or still mad over my joke. “If by free you mean bound to me, because now you must have my blood.”
“Oh, pish-tosh. Being bound to you isn’t a chore. I love you. I want to spend every day with you. Now I have an excuse.” I beam at him. “It’s the best of all worlds.”
He doesn’t beam back. His wings flick and then settle against his back. “You say that now, but what if you grow sick of me like Ravendor did her mate?”
Sick of him? When he’s been the only thing keeping me going for so long? I shake my head and get to my knees, crawling over to him. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back to the floor again. “I will never, ever be sick of you for as long as I live,” I tell him. “You and I are in this together. There is nothing that will separate us.”