the pain and stood, bracing herself for another attack. A sharp sting lanced across the hand that had been grabbed, blood pooled in a slash across her palm. The pain was throbbing, radiating up her arm. She brought the wound to her nose to sniff. Poison.
“Fuck,” she cursed, her body feeling sluggish, her keen and well-trained senses fading.
“Let me see it,” he said. She’d sensed him approaching, even though his tread was silent as the grave, but hadn’t had the energy to keep running. The Alphar’s shadow appeared before her, not waiting for her compliance before gently taking her hand to examine the wound.
“Shut up. Kiss me. Say it. Let me see it.” She mimicked to his downturned face as he sniffed the cut. “Ever heard of asking?”
“Not when it comes to you, apparently.” He glanced up with a short smile before turning back to her hand.
Her body slumped against the tree, the poison taking hold of her limbs. The Alphar scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing and began to run back towards The Mansion.
“No,” she slurred against his chest. Mmm, he smelled good. “Don’t want to go back.”
“You’ve got Vryk blood in your system.”
“Won’t kill me.” She thought she’d smelled Vryk on the creature that had flung her back into the forest. What the hell was a Vryk doing attacking her? She had never had an issue with any Vryks. In fact she had worked amicably with many in this area in the past.
“No, but it will leave you paralyzed and helpless for about a day.”
“Leave me.”
“You really are crazy if you want me to leave you— my mate— in the middle of a forest crawling with my enemies when paralyzed and vulnerable. Even if you weren’t my mate I wouldn’t do that.”
A horn honked as they reached the road. Cymbeline tried to lift her head and realized she was truly paralyzed when it just lolled with every step the bastard Alphar took. A large, black van was pulled over on the side of the road. A blonde woman in a crisp, navy-blue pants suit leaned against the van and was speaking on a phone as she waved them over.
“Leave me,” Cymbeline mumbled again as her vision turned hazy. He took a rough step and her head lulled towards his chest. She could scent the dark, intangible thing telling her she wanted to stay in his arms, that it was okay to give in to him. Ignoring the whispers, she fought like hell to stay awake. But try as she might to keep her eyes open and her senses keen, she knew she would pass out soon and did not want to be left in the tender care of this man, no matter how amazing he smelled. Seriously, was this natural?
Pissed off with her failing strength, she took out her anger on the closest victim. With the last of her ebbing energy she shot her hand up and smacked the Alphar’s forehead.
He stopped walking, staring down at her incredulously. “You used the last of your strength to slap me?”
She couldn’t speak anymore so she just glared, willing him to let her go with the power of her angry stare. Instead of reacting angrily or haughtily as she’d assumed a man of his status would, he shook his head and grinned, leaning in to place a small yet firm kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep. I swear no harm will come to you.”
Staring into his black eyes as she succumbed to darkness, she almost wanted to believe him. Almost.
Kerrick watched as the woman’s head lolled against his chest a final time and her eyes slumped shut. She was out like a light and would be for at least a day, depending on her tolerance to Vryk blood. While ingesting or absorbing Vryk blood into their bodies wouldn’t kill a shifter, it would render them paralyzed or weakened for a short period of time. To other preternatural species like Mages, Vryk blood could kill them. To the necromancers, it could enhance their speed and power. For humans, Vryk blood would either turn them into an addicted slave or into a Vryk themselves. That again, depended on the strength of
Learning to Kill: Stories