Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
“I’m going to need a minute,” he slurred. “The chamber seems to be moving.”
Returning to the bedchamber, I looked around, and spied a cupboard. Hurrying to it, I pulled the lunea dagger from the pocket of my cloak, half surprised I hadn’t stabbed myself with it. I placed it on the cupboard as I spotted a closed jar of what appeared to be water on a small table opposite the bed. I lifted it to my nose, taking a sniff, and when I smelled nothing, I poured a glass and took a drink. “Will this help? It’s just water, but warm.”
“It should.”
I handed him the glass, stepping back. He took just a small sip at first and then downed the entire glass.
“More?”
“I think I . . . should let that . . . settle first.”
Taking the glass from him, I placed it on the table. “Is the room still moving?”
“Unfortunately.” His hands fell to the edge of the bed. “Legs don’t feel attached at the moment and the light— my eyes . . . aren’t quite ready for it.”
I cursed, not having thought of that. “Sorry,” I mumbled, quickly turning the lamp off.
The Lord had gone quiet as I faced him. Trepidation rose as I inched closer to him— one of the most powerful beings in all the realm, and he was . . . he was shaking. His legs. Arms. “Is it the hemlock or the . . . the blood loss?”
“Those things . . . and the lunea. That alone weakens us— sickens us,” he explained. “When any . . . lunea blade is left in us or its wound goes untreated, it turns into a toxin, breaking down our tissues. . . .” His large shoulders curled inward. “Another of my kind would need far more than water and time to heal.”
Meaning that if he weren’t a lord, the injuries would’ve likely ended his life. I felt the need to apologize again but managed to stop myself.
I needed to get him cleaned up and safely out of here before others came to check on him . . . or Weber. “What would they need?” I asked, just in case the water wasn’t enough, as I knelt before him. “To heal?”
“I . . . I would need to feed.”
“Um.” I glanced at the door. “I can probably find you something to eat.”
“I’m not talking . . . about food.”
My brows lifted as I fumbled in the darkness, running my hands over his boot until I found the top. For the short period of time things had been intimate between Claude and me, I’d gained quite a bit of experience undressing a half-conscious man, but I still felt a little out of my element as I grasped the shaft of the boot and yanked it off. “What are you talking about?”
A sudden soft glow sparked to life, drawing my gaze up as I moved on to his other boot. I looked up to see that he’d picked up a candle from the nightstand and had lit it . . . with his touch. My lips parted with a soft inhale at the reminder of exactly what he was. “How . . . did you do that?”
“Magic.”
My brows inched up. I’d never actually seen a Hyhborn use the elements. “Really?”
“No.”
I stared at him a second, then shook my head. Unnerved, I grabbed ahold of his other boot. “Does the candlelight hurt your eyes?”
“No,” he answered.
I wasn’t sure if I believed him as I dropped his boot. I glanced at the bathing chamber, then took the candle from him. “I’ll get the shower ready for you.” I rose. “But I can’t promise it will be warm.”
“It’ll . . . be fine.”
Nibbling on my lip, I reentered the bathing chamber, placing the candle on a shelf. I spared a glance at my reflection and winced. The skin had split along the bridge of my nose and there was already a puffiness beneath my eyes. My nose didn’t appear broken, but I had no idea how I was going to explain this to Grady.
Going to the shower, I quickly cranked the knobs on the wall. Steady streams of water pounded off the porcelain floor of the stall. I thrust my hand beneath the stream. Blood ran between my fingers, splattering off the floor as I tested the temperature. It wasn’t exactly hot, but it wasn’t freezing. I washed the blood from my other hand, then turned.
The Lord leaned against the doorframe. How he moved so quietly while injured and so . . . well, so large, was beyond me.
“Should you be standing?” I asked.
“The chamber stopped moving.”
“That sounds like good . . .” I trailed off as he swayed away from the doorframe.
His head hung weakly as he reached for his pants. Realizing he was about to undress, I started to turn away. His fingers fumbled, though, nearly useless as he stumbled. “Fuck.”