The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,125

really sorry, prove it. You really want to make it up to me? Live. Marry me. Take me home to Cassia.”

“My sweet, vicious, loving mate. I want to do all that and more.”

“Then don’t give up. I won’t let you. I forbid it.”

“You sound like a queen.” I force a smile.

“Get used to it.”

She picks up the flask again and unscrews the cap. “Maybe I didn’t give you enough. What if I inject it straight into the wound?”

It’s a rhetorical question no one has the answer to.

A protest hangs on the tip of my tongue, but I keep it in. I’ve been pumped full of two large doses of Glow. If I don’t feel anything yet, it’s doubtful a third would do any harm. It’s also unlikely it’ll do any good, but if it makes Whitley feel better, I’ll allow it.

When the needle goes into my mangled heart, I can’t hold back the pained moan.

“Done. All done,” Whitley coos, her expression bright with hope as she places the syringe on the ground.

Using the hem of her dress, she wipes at my chest. The sage-green material comes away black, as if it’s been coated with tar. Her face falls.

“Could we have some privacy?” I ask to our onlookers.

As I glance around, I realize we’ve drawn quite a crowd. Kirian and Quinn are nearby. I haven’t had much time to get used to seeing their expressions, but they look at me as if I’m dead already. Quinn sniffles as Kirian leads her away.

After Zander and his crew respectfully give us some distance, I catch a strand of Whitley’s hair. I wind it around my finger, tugging her down until we’re forehead to forehead. “I love you.”

“Why does that sound like a goodbye?”

Because it is. “I’m the luckiest man there’s ever been. To have a mate who’s done so much to try to prevent my demise.”

“Stop.” Her tears hit my face, blending with my own as they slide down my temple.

“I want you to live, my little carrot. Do all the things you wanted to do. Start a training center for females. Build Maisel’s house.”

“I don’t want to—not without you.”

Would I want to go on without Whitley? No. Not after experiencing the bliss we’ve had together. I was lonely before. Life would be a desolate wasteland after.

I start to worry she might commit suicide once I’m gone. It’s been known to happen. Instead of living with the excruciating mate withdrawal, many fae would rather end it, and I understand. After all, a swift death is what I’m asking for as well.

But I don’t tell her any of this.

“Maybe the love we had is enough to keep you happy for a while,” I say hopefully. “You still have a place here. A purpose.”

“I really thought this would work,” Whitley laments, ignoring my optimism as she dabs at my chest.

“‘A’ for effort.”

“I can’t—I can’t kill you.” Her sad eyes turn wild as they meet mine. “Why would you make me promise something like that?” From her livid expression, I’m guessing if I wasn’t already hurt, she’d probably slap me. “How could you do that to—”

Suddenly, she stops mid-sentence, her eyelids droop, and she sways. Her head bobbles before she tips over and slumps to the ground.

Zander follows, his legs going weak before he topples. Kirian and Quinn are next, falling side by side just inside of the trail.

“What’s this?” One of the Day soldiers on the farther outskirts of the clearing takes up a fighting stance as he peers at the unconscious royals.

His alertness doesn’t last more than a couple seconds. Soon, he’s down for the count, too.

One by one, the other soldiers around the perimeter drop. A few start snoring.

Damn it.

The Glow. It’s making my power surge. It ebbs out of me in intense waves—even stronger than after the mate bond was complete.

As I roll to the side to check on Whitley, a gurgling sound comes from my wound. I touch the bubbling ooze, and I’m shocked as shit when my fingers come away red. Using a tattered remnant of my shirt, I wipe at the gash. More fresh blood flows out.

It isn’t tainted anymore.

With each pump of my heart, I feel the iron leaving my body.

“It fucking worked,” I whisper, amazed.

Grunting, I push myself up to a sitting position and study my chest. I never thought I’d be so happy to see myself bleed.

The pain is tolerable now. It feels like a regular injury—still unpleasant but missing the sensation of being branded by