Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Poison purged from blood and pore.
Toxins leave, afflict no more.
Close the wounds that bleed and sore.
Take what is sick and make it well once more.
A poet, I was not.
But the words and meaning were accurate and heartfelt as I had the sudden urge to press the vine against the sore in Nathaniel’s arm, then recite the spell again.
Before my eyes, I watched the vine fade from deep green to a flesh color, molding and softening to seal the wound.
The poison, a deep purple, turned to a blood red, leaching into the spiderwebs, brightening them, then fading them back into flesh tones.
I watched the cure slip across his skin the same way the poison had, healing what had been harmed, inch by inch.
My lip was trembling as I saw his skin become smooth and flawless once again.
Over his arm, chest, abdomen.
His neck.
The sides of his face.
My heart stuttered in my chest as I sat there, watching the final webs near his eyes fade.
But Nathaniel stayed still as a corpse.
Until, suddenly, his eyes flew open, his mouth parting as if he was taking a gasp of air as his body knifed upward off the ground.
A man, rising from the dead.
Again.
A loud sob escaped me as I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his body as I climbed into his lap, holding on like a woman adrift to a life preserver.
The loud sobs rose from deep inside as Nathaniel’s arms wrapped around me. Softly at first. Then nearly squeezing the breath out of me, his head lowering to my shoulder.
“I’m okay,” he said over and over, rocking me slightly as the tears refused to slow, let alone stop.
I didn’t know I had such a well of sadness inside. But now that it was tapped, it seemed to flow endlessly.
But Nathaniel just sat there with me, held me through it, let me purge it before it drowned me from the inside out.
“You did it,” he murmured, his lips teasing the side of my face. “I knew you could,” he said.
His hands were sliding gently up and down my back, comforting me when he was the one who’d gone through a trauma.
“You were dead,” I said, pulling back a bit to look into those ice-blue eyes.
“For many, many years now,” he agreed, a ghost of a smile toying with his lips.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, sniffling hard, knowing I probably looked like a splotchy mess but not caring.
“You saved me,” he said, his hands moving from my back to softly wipe the tears still clinging to my cheeks.
“I crafted a really terrible spell,” I confessed.
“Seems pretty good to me,” he said, his arms going around me again, lazily wrapping around my lower back.
My gaze slid to his lips.
And I couldn’t seem to fight the urge as I leaned forward, sealing my lips to his.
It was just a whisper of a kiss.
The softest of pressure.
A split second of contact.
But I felt the impact of it weaving its way through me, a warmth that spread across my chest, slipped into my heart.
And at that revelation, panic swelled in me again as I pulled back slightly.
“I accept your gratitude,” I said in a playful little voice that I didn’t feel with the rush of understanding moving through me. “Now, don’t die on me again, okay?” I asked, getting to my feet and turning away from him as I tried to pull myself together.
Because… what the hell?
I mean, I didn’t exactly have to experience it before to know it when I felt it.
I made a living writing little spells to help people find this very thing that was spreading through me.
It was absurd, of course.
I mean, no witch fell for a freaking vampire.
There was no denying it, though.
And lying to myself wasn’t going to help the situation either.
It was probably just the stress, I assured myself.
We were in this magical labyrinth. We were, quite literally, fighting for our lives. Of course emotions were amplified. It was no wonder I felt, you know, connected to the man. Er, vampire. He was helping me through this stressful time.
Combine that and the unmistakable chemistry between us, and, yeah, I bet that probably did feel a lot like, you know, love.
It wasn’t, though.
And I needed to keep a little space between us to remind myself of that.
“At least this is a spelled maze,” I said, taking a few feet away. “Our clothes fix themselves.”
“No luck with that,” he said, making me turn to find him holding his jacket. But his shirt was still a ripped, bloodied pile on the ground.
Meaning he was bare to me from the waist up.
I hadn’t really gotten a chance to appreciate his body when I’d been watching with horror as the webs of poison moved across his skin.
Now, though?
Yeah, there was some, you know, appreciation going on.