Chapter 17
The sound of rocks tumbling down the cliff echoed as Seraphine’s nails dug deep into Alistair’s wrist.
Alistair shouted over the howling wind, “You’ll fall with me!”
Seraphine’s right shoulder was sliced open by a jagged rock, the wound deep enough to see bone, and blood streamed down their intertwined hands.
She bit her lip hard, her left hand gripping a bare tree root.
“If we die, we die together.”
The tree root cracked under the pressure.
Black blood oozed steadily from the arrow wound on Alistair’s chest, and the venom from the poison combined with the toxin made his pupils dilate.
“There’s a cave at the bottom…”
He pointed with great effort toward a certain direction before falling unconscious.
Seraphine tore a strip from her shirt and hastily bandaged his wound, then threw him over her shoulder and rushed toward the cliff bottom.
The cave was drier than expected. When Seraphine lit a fire, Alistair’s breathing had already become faint, nearly imperceptible.
“Alistair?”
She trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt, noticing the black veins spreading visibly around the arrow wound.
Without hesitation, Seraphine drew her dagger and cut open her own wrist, letting her blood drip onto the wound.
The moment the blood of a healer touched the poison, Alistair’s body jerked violently.
“Hold on.”
She bent down and sucked the poisoned blood out of him, spitting it into the fire one mouthful at a time.
It wasn’t until the forty–ninth mouthful that the blood she spat out turned a healthy red again.
But Alistair’s temperature shot up, unbearably hot.
“Cold…” In his delirium, he clutched at Seraphine’s bloodstained collar, “Don’t leave…”
Seraphine took off her outer cloak and covered him with it, adding more wood to the fire.
Outside the cave, the storm raged, and in the flickering light of the flames, she saw Alistair’s furrowed brow.
By some strange impulse, she reached out and smoothed the furrow with her hand.
The moment her fingers touched his skin, his hot hand gripped hers.
“Fina!” Alistair’s eyes snapped open, burning with an unnatural light. “Is it really you?”
He suddenly yanked her into his arms, his fevered breath hot against her neck.
“Every time I dream of you, I wake up empty.”
Seraphine froze in his embrace, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of her chest.
Alistair’s lips brushed her earlobe, the dry heat of his body searing her skin.
“It’s not a dream,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around his waist.
Alistair trembled, then flipped her over, pinning her beneath him.
The firelight cast flickering shadows across his chiseled features, his usually calm and composed eyes now filled with emotions she couldn’t understand. “Do you know who I am?”
His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
“Alistair,” she met his gaze directly, “my uncle.”
The moment she said those words, it was as though a switch had been flipped. Alistair’s head shot down to kiss her.
The kiss carried the bitter taste of blood and herbs, but it was more intoxicating than haney.
Chapter 17
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The next morning, Seraphine woke to the sound of birds chirping.
Alistair was sitting by the cave entrance, cleaning his sword. The morning light bathed him in a golden halo.
“You’re awake?” He looked over his shoulder, his gaze falling on the red marks on her collarbone. His ears immediately turned bright red. “Last night, I…”
Seraphine adjusted her collar and deliberately said, “Uncle, are you going to abandon me after all this?”
Alistair’s sword clattered to the ground.
He hurried over, lifting her face with his hands before kissing her firmly.
“Every time you call me ‘uncle,” he sighed against her lips, “you remind me I shouldn’t cross the line.”
Suddenly, the sound of rocks falling outside caught their attention.
Seraphine turned sharply, locking eyes with Lucien, whose gaze was bloodshot.
The Mark of Cain in his hand had gone cold, and several empty wine bottles lay scattered at his feet.
“Sera.” Lucien’s voice sounded as if it had risen from the depths of hell. “Come back with me.”
Chapter 17
