Part 19 (2/2)
”Did I hurt you?” she asked.
”Yes.”
”Good.” She reached up to the end table beside the bed and flipped on a reading light. ”Remember what the venom looks like?”
”Thick, silvery, beads together like mercury.” When it hit his cheek and eye it had burned like acid, ripping his skin and . . . well. He could do nothing about his eye. No use thinking about it now. But head been able to shake the venom off onto the floor, and outside head rubbed his face in the flower bed. If anything had saved his vision, that had, but he could still feel the remaining molecules eating away at his skin. . . .
”The poison is nestled in there, clinging to the strands of your muscles. So roll back onto your side.” Karen gave him a shove.
He did as he was told. ”Why are you doing this?”
”Because Iam sick of worrying about you and when youare going to pop up again.”
”So youare going to take care of me so I donat surprise you anymore?”
”Also, I need help living through the night, and youare my best bet.”
”Not in this shape.”
”Shut. Up.” She used the tip of his knife to push first one drop of poison, then the other out onto the floor.
They rolled and beaded like mercury.
”Not good,” she muttered.
”Because?”
”They left a silvery coating along the strands of your muscles. Stay here.” She ran for the bathroom. He could hear her slamming through the drawers.
Karen made him feel almost . . . hopeful.
She came back with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, rolls of gauze and first-aid tape, and a bottle of Listerine.
He didnat even want to know what she intended to do with the Listerine.
”I havenat got a snakebite kit. Or a suction cup. So weall try this.” She knelt at his side. She tilted him onto his stomach and poured the hydrogen peroxide into the wound.
It hurt like a son of a b.i.t.c.h.
She tilted him back and let it drain out.
”No change. The silveras still hanging in there. Letas try it again.” She did, and all the while she talked to him, trying to keep him focused.
He knew it. He appreciated it. But she was getting increasingly frantic, and finally he gasped, ”Iam no good to you. Go on now. Remember, my plane. My brothera””
She rolled him onto his stomach. ”I know perfectly well how to walk away.” She sounded livid that he dared suggest she didnat.
Thank G.o.d. If he p.i.s.sed her off enough, shead do her disappearing act and maybe save herself and the icon and his family.
Instead, in the most courageous act head ever witnessed in his lifea”and the stupidesta”she stuck her knee in his back, put her mouth to the bite, and sucked the poison out of his wound.
Chapter Twenty-two.
Karen spit the blood and venom onto the floor.
Warlord knocked her off, shoved her away.
Dimly she heard him shout, ”Are you crazy?”
The poison hit her first, ripping into her senses like acid.
Then she tasted his blood, anda”
The Varinski wore a helmet and a Kevlar vest. His earlobes hung low, each pierced by a three-eighths -inch countersunk bolt. He had a knife in a holster strapped to his side, and steel covered his knuckles. His arms were muscled and ma.s.sive, and he had a face like a Neanderthala”wide jaw, heavy brow, and one cheekbone that had been broken and shoved up toward his eye. He waded through the battle, throwing Warlordas men aside as if they were toothpicks. He was ma.s.sive, indifferent to pain, fast as lightning . . . and his gaze was fixed on Warlord.
A fight to the death. Warlord deserved this.
He rushed to meet him.
They met in a clash of cruelty.
Warlord slashed at the Varinski, ripping him with tooth and claw, but this was no ordinary demon. This guy had a flair for killing. He didnat bother with his knife or his pistol, but pounded on Warlord with his metal-clad fists, taking pieces of flesh with each blow.
Warlord slashed with his knife, ripping the Varinskias neck, his legs, his face, but the Varinski shook it off and kept coming. He moved quickly, used his hands as well as his fists, showed the kind of technique only a self-defense master should know.
Warlord panted, his breath heaving in his lungs. He was losing. For the first time since he was a boy with his brothers he was losing a fight. Quickly, he weighed the options. If he changed, became a panther, perhaps he could escape, but . . . his men were overwhelmed, wounded, dead, or prisoners.
No. He would stay with them. He would get them out.
The Varinski circled him; then, at a shout from the field, he looked away.
Warlord made a lunge for the Varinskias bellya” and one mighty fist slammed him in the chest.
Warlord blacked out, woke to find himself flying through the air, blacked out again as he bounced down the cliff . . . and hit the rocks.
The brisk, antiseptic taste of Listerine splashed in Karenas mouth. She sputtered and spit, shoved Warlordas hand and the bottle away. ”Son of a b.i.t.c.h!”
Warlord held her in his lap. He shook her shoulders. ”Are you all right? Do you know how potent that poison is? Are you crazy?”
”Yes. Yes. Yes.” Launching herself out of his arms, she ran to the bathroom. Her stomach heaved, and she tossed her cookies in the toilet. She hung there for a moment, her mind whirling as she tried to think, to comprehend what was happening to her.
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