Blade Song - By J.C. Daniels Page 0,54

It was short-lived, and after I had a meal and a few hours of rest, I’d be okay.

Oh, and I needed to get the hell away from the bastard lying in the bed next to me.

Damon leaned over and snapped on the lamp on the bedside table. It brought him entirely too close to me. If I could have shrunk into the bed, pulled away, jabbed him with a hot poker, any of those things, I would have.

As it was, I couldn’t even find the strength to reach for the damn blankets. And I was cold.

He stayed where he was, on his elbow, peering down into my face. “How do you feel?”

I closed my eyes.

A soft laugh drifted from him. “That good, huh?”

I flexed my hand, rotated it.

“You go ahead and call your sword, baby girl, if it will make you feel better, but you’ll just drop it. You can’t hold it right now and you know it.”

I opened my eyes to glare at him. “Fu…”

Well. That went well. Clearing my throat, I managed to rasp out, “Fuck off.”

“Nice manners.” He reached over and caught my wrist, dragging it in front of my face. “She fixed it, completely. Don’t worry, once you can drag your pretty tail out of this bed, you’ll be good as new.”

I closed my eyes again.

“You know, I had no idea a full healing would hit you so hard. The quiet is nice.”

I kept my eyes closed.

After a few minutes, the pervasive weakness took over and I retreated back into sleep.

Let me in, darling…

I felt Jude whispering at the edges of my mind.

Grunting, I turned away and tried to block him out. The chill of his presence was something I just didn’t want right then, although if he pushed, I didn’t know if I could fight him off.

I was too tired.

What is wrong? You feel sick. Or ill—

I continued to ignore the press against my mind, struggling to wake up, but the bonds of sleep were…powerful. Too powerful. And that cold chill pressed so close. Shivering, I wiggled away from it, instinctively seeking out the warmth I felt in the bed.

Warmth.

Strength.

Part of me knew exactly what that warmth and strength was.

The rest of me didn’t care.

As strong arms came around me, the cold chill faded away and I sank back into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“Scream.”

The whip came flying through the air again.

I’d bitten my lip bloody and I knew I’d scream again.

But not yet—

“Scream, you useless waste.”

A broken whimper escaped me as the edge of the whip came around, the tip licking the bottom curve of my breast.

“You tried to enter the Dominari.”

I tensed, certain for the next lash of the whip.

It didn’t come.

“You actually think you can run the Dominari.”

Her voice was a mocking, ugly laugh as she came close. Her hand shot out, fisted in the long tangle of my hair, jerking my head back. “Why do you bother?”

Because I’d fail.

The race was brutal and cruel, and of the twenty or so students who ran it every year, nearly half of them had to be rescued or they’d die on the course. Of course, they always called for help. I’d screw up. And when I faltered, I wouldn’t call for help. I planned to go out there and die. It was my best chance at escape.

“You know you can’t survive such a…Oh. Oh…now I see.”

Her mocking laughter surrounded me and once again, the whip lashed through the air.

Once more, I woke and I was unable to move.

It wasn’t weakness that kept me pinned immobile, though.

This time, it was arms. Massively muscled arms that held me sprawled atop a massively muscled chest. One arm was banded across my upper back. The other hand cradled my head.

Cradled—

I tensed, squeezing my eyes closed. Okay. This was awkward. I didn’t know entirely why I was sprawled across Damon’s body, or why he was clutching me like an overgrown doll, but he wasn’t cradling anything. Probably debating on the best way to snap my neck when My Lady told him to.

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered.

I shoved against his chest.

Those arms didn’t loosen one single bit.

He heaved out a sigh and rolled and now, instead of sprawling across his body, I was pinned under it and that wasn’t any better. Not at all. Startled, I stared up into his face. The storm clouds in his eyes were sleepy and his short hair was about as mussed as it was ever going to get. “Can’t you ever just do what

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