P.C. Cast - Burned

“It’s good that you still have your elements. I wondered about that, what with your tattoos being gone.”

“Gone?” I turned my hand over and, sure enough, there were no tattoos filling my palms with sapphire filigree. Then I glanced down at my chest. The long pink scar was there, but it, too, was tattoo free. “Are they all gone? Even the ones on my face?”

“All that’s left is the crescent,” he said. Then he grimaced in pain again. Clearly beyond his exhaustion level, he closed his eyes, and said, “Go ahead and follow spirit home. I’ll figure something out. When I’m not so tired. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you—not really.”

“Oh, hell no. I’m not losing another boy with some kind of abstract I’ll-see-you-again Zoey thing. That’s not working for me ever, ever again.”

He opened his eyes. “Then tell me what to do, my queen. And I’ll do it.”

I ignored the “my queen” stuff. I mean, I’d heard him call me that earlier, and then again to Kalona. I wondered briefly if that had been before or after the immortal had started smacking him in the head, then I focused on the “I’ll do it” part of what he’d said. So, he’d do what I told him . . . but what the heck did I need to tell him to do?

I looked down at him. He was so messed up—even worse than he had been when he’d taken the arrow meant to kill me and burned the crap out of his chest, almost dying. Again.

But then he’d gotten better pretty much on his own. He’d had to. I’d been messed up, too.

I drew a deep breath, remembering the whole Mother Hen lecture Darius had given me when I’d wanted Stark to feed from me so he could heal quicker. He’d explained that between a Warrior and his High Priestess, the bond was so strong that Warriors could sometimes sense emotions from their High Priestesses. I glanced down at Stark’s bruised face. He’d definitely been able to do that. When that happened, they could also absorb more from their High Priestesses than their blood—they could absorb energy.

Which was exactly what Stark needed—energy to heal—energy to return to his body.

This time he wouldn’t get better on his own and, thank the Goddess, I wasn’t messed up anymore.

“Hey,” I said. “I know what I want you to do.”

His eyes fluttered open, and I hated the pain that I saw reflected within them. “Tell me. If I can do it, I will.”

I smiled at him. “I want you to bite me.”

He looked surprised and then, even though it obviously hurt him, his cocky smile was back. “ Now you ask me? When my body’s totally messed up. Great.”

“Don’t be such a guy,” I told him. “It’s because you’re body’s totally messed up that I’m asking you.

“I’d make you think differently if I was well.”

I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. “If you were well, I’d smack you right now.” And then, moving carefully, trying to be as gentle as I could, I slid him off my lap. He tried to stifle a groan. “Sorry! I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.” I lay down beside him and started to pull him into my arms, wanting to hold him close to me as if I could absorb his pain.

“It’s okay,” he gasped. “Just help me onto my good side.”

Good side? I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or burst into tears, but I helped him turn on his side, the one that didn’t have the shattered shoulder, so that we could face each other. Tentatively, I moved closer to him, thinking that I should maybe slice down my arm so he could drink from me more easily without moving too much.

“No.” His hand twitched, trying to reach out to me. “Not like that. Come closer to me, Z. The pain doesn’t matter.” He paused, then added, “Unless you can’t because of my blood. Does this make you need it?”

“The blood?” I realized what he was saying and blinked in surprise. “I haven’t even noticed it.” Seeing his wry expression, I went on, “I mean I noticed that you’re bleeding all over. I didn’t smell it.” Wonderingly, I touched the blood on his lip with my fingertip. “It doesn’t make my bloodlust happen.”

“We’re spirit here, that must be why,” he said.

“Then will this work? You feeding from me?”

His eyes met mine. “It’ll work, Z. Between us there’s more than physical stuff. We’re bound by spirit.”

“Okay, good. I hope so,” I said, feeling suddenly nervous. The only other guy I’d let feed from me had been Heath—my Heath. My mind skittered away from thoughts of him and comparisons with Stark, but I couldn’t deny one aspect of what was about to happen. Letting a guy drink my blood was sexual. It felt good. Really good. That was how we’d been made. It was normal, natural, and right.

It was also making my stomach hurt.

“Hey, just relax and bring your neck over here.”

My wide eyes took in Stark’s battered face and his broken body.

“Yeah, I know you’re nervous, but as messed up as I am, you don’t need to be.” His expression changed. “Or is it more than being nervous? Are you changing your mind about wanting to?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m not changing my mind. I won’t change my mind about you, Stark. Ever.”

Trying to be as careful as I could, I moved closer to him. Scooting up so that the curve of my neck was near his mouth, I swept back my hair and leaned over him, holding myself tense, ready for his bite.

But he surprised me. Instead of his teeth I felt the warmth of his lips as he kissed my neck gently. “Relax, my queen.”

His breath made shivers go down my skin. I trembled. How long had it been since anyone had really touched me? It must only be days back in the real world, but here, in the Otherworld, it felt like I’d been untouched and untouchable for centuries.

Stark kissed me again. His tongue touched my neck and he moaned. This time I didn’t think it was from pain. He didn’t hesitate any longer. His teeth nicked my neck. It stung, but as soon as his lips closed on the small cut, pain was replaced by pleasure so intense that it was my turn to moan.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and lock my body with his, but I held myself very still, trying my best not to cause him any more pain.

Too soon his mouth left my skin. His voice already sounded stronger when he said, “Do you know when I first knew I belonged to you?” His breath whispered warm against my neck, making me shiver again.

“When?” I sounded breathless.

“It was when you faced me down in the infirmary back at the House of Night, before I’d Changed. Do you remember?”

“I remember.” Of course I remembered—I’d been naked and threatened to kick his butt with the elements as I stood between him and Darius.

I could feel his lips tilt up against my skin. “You looked like a Warrior queen, filled with the Goddess’s anger. I think that was when I knew I would always belong to you, because you reached me even through all that darkness.”

“Stark.” I whispered his name, utterly overwhelmed by what I was feeling for him. “This time you reached me. Thank you. Thank you for coming after me.”

With a wordless sound, his mouth was on my neck again, and this time he bit harder, and really drank from me.

Again, pleasure quickly replaced the sting of pain. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the exquisite heat that was rushing through my body. I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, and slid one hand around his waist so that I could feel the tight muscles just underneath the skin of his back. I wanted more of him. I wanted him closer to me.

He took his lips from my neck, and he actually held himself up. His eyes were dark with passion, and he was breathing hard. “Now, Zoey, will you give me more than just your blood? Will you accept me as your Guardian?”