Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 57

"Ambrose!"

"Noah—!" His breath catches and his grasp on me tightens as I take most of his weight. "Ah, thank heaven and hell, and everything between—you're alive."

Unable to support him, I sink with him to my knees. A spasm wracks his body, and after a few shaky gasps he eases his grip, leans away from me, and takes my face between his bloodied hands.

"Are you injured?" he asks.

"No. You?"

"A few scrapes," he answers, relief easing some of the tension in his face. "Nothing more."

I frown as I take a quick inventory.

There's a deep gash on his brow, the three scratches down the side of his face, and blood soaks his tattered shirt over his chest, sides, and arms. A row of punctures marks his thigh, and from his pallor and his quick, shallow breathing, I judge he's in considerable pain.

"Liar," I say, smoothing the damp, sticky hair back from his brow. "You're hurt. What happened?"

"From the look of things," Shanti says, coming to stand at my back and resting a gentle hand on my shoulder, "I'd say he tangled with a rakshasa, or two."

"Did you?" I ask, feeling my eyes widen.

"Seems Aengus has a pack of those things," he whispers, still caressing my face. "When the one that had gone after you came back, I may have lost my mind, for a bit."

"Why haven't you healed yourself?"

"I was saving it," he says. "Saving my strength—for you, I mean. I was afraid I wouldn't have enough for both of us, if you were even alive. If you weren't, then I wouldn't care either way."

"Well, I am alive," I tell him. "And I'm fine. So take care of yourself now, okay?"

His eyes search mine, the fire burning low in their depths, but at last he nods and shuts them, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath through his nose. The veins beneath his skin glow like hot wires as his fire awakens, and then the gashes on his face seal shut seamlessly, leaving the skin smooth and unblemished, and I know his less visible injuries have done the same.

He releases his breath in a sigh and slumps against me, resting his head on my shoulder.

I rub my hands over his back where I'm holding him. "Better?"

He murmurs an assent, sounding barely conscious. I know that when he heals himself, he doesn't suffer the way he does when he heals others, but that it still leaves him drained. He hadn't fully recovered from healing me before, either.

"Hey, Ambrose—no sleeping yet, okay?" I slip my hand beneath his tangled veil of hair and gently squeeze the back of his neck. "Tell me what happened. And what about the others, huh? Penelope and everyone. Are they okay?"

With another deep breath and an obvious effort, he lifts himself away from me and sits back on his heels.

"After you ran," he says, "I intended to tear Aengus apart with my bare hands—burn him to ash if I could. I thought that surely even he would not be immune to dragonfire, and if he truly desired extinction, then he should welcome it."

"Let me guess—he turned you down," I reply, unable to help the wry smile twisting my mouth.

Ambrose's lips quirk in a tired, half-smile in return. "Hence my 'tangle' with rakshasas. Seems Aengus was not entirely honest with us, I'm afraid. He wants to die—yes—but only because returning his Gift and embracing the mortality that should have been his long ago is the only way he can get what he truly wants: an end to his suffering, and vengeance on the one whom he blames for it."