Infernal Dark - Everly Frost Page 0,3

chest before Hagan pushed me away and told me he had to end Nathaniel’s life. Or it could have been when my anger soared through me just now and I screamed at Cyrian to get away from Nathaniel.

None of that should be possible.

My fae magic shouldn’t be able to touch him…

Reaching around his chest, I struggle to turn him onto his side to check the entry wound in his back. The weight of his torso and muscles and the blood coating his chest make my task difficult. Quickly repositioning myself and drawing my legs under me, I use my knees as a wedge beneath his back so that I can slowly lift him. With a final heave, I finally succeed in getting his left arm to drop across his chest so that gravity pulls him far enough onto his stomach that I can pull up his shirt and study the wound on this side.

It’s also cauterized.

I don’t understand how my magic worked, but if I did this—if I somehow minimized the flow of blood—then I can finish the job.

Leaning across him, I slip my right hand over his back and my left hand across his chest, covering the entry and exit points of the wound.

I have to be careful.

Yesterday, Nathaniel described my power as having many facets—the capacity to destroy as well as the power to heal. I’d eased the pain in his bruised ribs by warming his torso with my starlight. Now I need the sharp edge of my power—the fiery element. Too much will destroy whatever life clings within him. Too little won’t work.

Drawing on the well of power inside me, conscious of the limited amount I have left, I allow starlight to flow from my chest down my arms. I don’t temper it, don’t soften it, allowing it to remain sharp and prickly. A burning cold.

Pinpoints of starlight widen beneath my palms as I block out Hagan’s and Cyrian’s shouting only a few paces away from me.

I hold on to my power for another second before I release it.

Light flashes on both sides of Nathaniel’s chest.

Rapidly shutting off my power, I check his back first, then his front. Both sides of the wound are completely cauterized.

I haven’t healed him. His internal injuries are still catastrophic, but I’ve stopped him from losing any more blood. Now I need him to breathe again. And then I need to get him to a healer. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, but I tell myself to face one problem at a time.

Lowering him onto his back, I fit my lips to his.

Exhaling, I breathe into his mouth, the same way he breathed into mine after we visited the burn site where I killed my parents. It feels like a lifetime ago that Nathaniel brought the breath back into my chest.

At the same time as I breathe into his mouth, I press my fingertips against his temples, allowing my hands to warm with my power, but this time, I draw only on the calming power that I used to ease his bruised ribs yesterday. I need to ease his mind, keep him asleep so that he doesn’t feel the pain of his wound or wake up in shock.

I need to keep him alive for as long as it takes to get him to a healer.

Taking another deep breath, I exhale into his mouth again, making sure to seal my lips completely against his, sensing the air pass into his body.

I repeat this process three more times, but nothing changes and my breathing becomes desperate. Panic threatens to overwhelm me. For all I know, the spike nicked his heart and it will never beat again.

“No!” I reject my fear, shouting it out, refusing to give in to it.

Forming a fist, I thump his chest, wishing I could reach beneath his skin and force his heart to beat again.

My power flows out from the impact point, lighting up his ribs. Tears drip from my cheeks onto his. I breathe into his mouth again before I thump his torso once more, my power streaking across his body.

“Nathaniel” I scream at him. “Wake up!”

My fist crashes against his chest, a spark ignites between us, and starlight flashes back at me, rebounding so brightly that I fall back onto my hands. I gasp before I force myself to become quiet. Force myself to listen.

A soft whisper reaches me.

The gentlest breath.

Scrambling back through the dust, I lean over Nathaniel, desperately seeking the rise and fall