Part 15 (2/2)
Exhausted, tired of the treachery from his own kin, Aedan turned to Rowan. At her tired smile, his heart warmed. She would- Air burst from his lungs. Breac's elongated nails sliced his back. Furious, Aedan turned.
The blur of his cousin flashed past.
Rowan screamed.
Aedan whirled.
Breac stood before the roar of flames, his body marred by cuts and bruises, a malignant smile deforming his face. At his feet, Rowan's body lay twisted, her neck slashed, her blood pumping upon the earth.
Aedan stared in disbelief at the woman he loved, the woman who moved him like no other, the woman his cousin was trying to kill. Anger so hot, so feral it held its own life, filled him. He lifted his eyes to Breac.
”For this you will die!” With a roar, Aedan attacked his cousin, each slash of his flesh satisfying, the burn of betrayal guiding his every swing.
”You are unfit to lead us,” Breac seethed as his blow sent Aedan stumbling back.
”Nay,” Aedan snarled as he sprang forward, d.a.m.ning each second lost before he could reach Rowan. ”That honor belongs to you!” He slashed his cousin's chest, reached in, tore.
Shock fragmented Breac's face as he looked down. Blood, dark and ugly, spilled from the ragged flesh. Inside, an empty cavity gaped where once had lain his heart.
As if in slow motion, Breac lifted his head, stared at the pumping red ma.s.s upon Aedan's palm. ”What have you done?”
”Killed a traitor.”
A feral smile wavered upon his cousin's face. ”I may die, but so will the la.s.s and your child.”
With a curse, Aedan threw his cousin's heart into the air. He focused. A swirl of mist enveloped the heart, and then it exploded in flames. The stench of blood permeated the air. Sickened, d.a.m.ning what must be done, he turned to the body of his cousin. Breac's eyes were now empty, staring at nothing.
Aedan focused.
Mist swirled over Breac's body, then flames ignited, the heat intense, the smoke thickening to a dense haze. The flutter of a cool breeze tumbled past, and the churn of white cleared. Where once his cousin had lain, only a blackened outline remained, all that was left of a man he had loved since they were young lads.
Rowan! Aedan ran to her, knelt at her side. Her wheat blond lashes flickered open.
A frown s.h.i.+mmered upon her face. ”Ae-Aedan?”
Her pain-filled whisper cut deep. On a rough swallow, he took in the gash across her neck, her blood congealing upon the earth, her eyes growing pale as she struggled to breathe. His body shook as he drew her into his arms.
She was dying.
Nay, he could not lose her now! He stared at the sky bright with the pulse of stars, at the heavens so filled with life. Whoever he needed to beg to spare her life, he would.
He stroked his thumb across her brow. ”I am here.”
”I-I love you.” Her lids wobbled as she struggled to keep them open. ”If I do not-”
”Do nae speak. You must save your strength.”
Rowan closed her eyes, fought the wash of agony, the lure of blackness that offered relief. It would be easy to give in, but to do so would be to embrace death.
Death?
Nay, immortality.
Hope spiraled. ”Aedan, co-convert me into a vampire. It is the only way to save me, to save our child.”
Strain etched his face as he took her hand, pressed a kiss upon its palm, his own shaking. ”If I try,” he whispered, his voice raw with self-condemnation, ”you may die.”
”What?”
”There might be another way,” he said. ” 'Tis possible you can heal yourself.”
Heal herself? Another wash of pain rolled through her. Rowan rode the tide until it ebbed. ”You ar-are making little sense.”
”At the cave,” Aedan explained, his words rushed, ”when we made love, I discovered you are part fey.”
”Part fey?”
”Aye. Your ancestors are from the Otherworld. Your ability to heal is more than a gift, but a consequence of your heritage. Fairy blood holds the ability to heal.”
Her eyes widened. ”I am a fairy?
”Half.”
”Ho-How ...” She fought the meld of confusion and pain, but clung to his impossible claim. ”How can one be half fairy?”
”Rowan, at this moment 'tis unimportant.” He brought her hand to his cheek, pressed his own atop. ”You must look within yourself, draw from your inherent strength, from your ability to heal and repair your wounds.”
”I ...” Her world blurred. She gasped, struggled to breathe.
”Rowan!”
Aedan's voice echoed from a distance. She clung to his outrageous claim. Her lifetime of difficulties trying to fit in with her clansmen, her instinctive knowledge of where a person was wounded and the herb to heal all made sense now. 'Twas simple: How could she fit in when she was not of this world?
”Rowan!”
From far away, a desperate voice echoed. Hands rubbed over her skin, and then the coolness of a cloth swept across her neck.
Use the powers of the fey to heal yourself!
Murky blackness weighted her chest as she fought to breath. Could she heal herself? Rowan focused on points within her body where the pain built, discerned what must be done.
Heat grew within her, a slow spiral that sent waves of tingling along her skin. The sensation of tissue weaving together filled her.
”Aedan?” she whispered.
At her feeble words, Aedan's heart stumbled. ”Rowan?” Though she'd embraced her fey powers, had begun the healing process within, he sensed her body's struggles. She was bleeding out faster than she could repair the damage.
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