Decree, page 2
He stared a moment, then lifted his eyes to the fae.
“She’s alive.”
By the gods...
How could they explain it? How could they believe it themselves? What could they do but pick up her body and carry her down the cliffs? Evander had just reached the base of the canyon, that trailing seam where sand blended into stone. The look on his face was enough to confirm it.
There was nothing, just blank surprise.
“I saw the dragon,” he said quietly, arms wrapped around his chest. “It flew away a moment before you got there. I saw the light of the fire, felt the heat of the flames. I smelled her clothes.”
Burning.
His eyes drifted lower, to the naked girl in Jesse’s arms.
“...how is she still breathing?”
Two days later, they had yet to answer that question.
“The best I could do is not enough,” Jesse muttered, trudging through the sand. No matter what distance lay before them, he would not think of putting her down. “We need to find water.”
Eden let out a quiet sigh, but didn’t have the energy to respond.
It had been easier in the beginning. They had been awash in adrenaline, tripping on miracles and cracking at the seams. Things that should have been hurting them were mercifully numb. Pains they should have been feeling had been blunted by shock. The creaks and aches would set in later, those flaring jolts that reminded them what their waking minds would never admit.
That they were not invincible. That it was possible to push things to the brink.
It was a lesson they were learning now, tilting desperately towards the horizon, every passing hour of sunlight bringing them a little closer to that dangerous line.
“If we find more water, it will be to drink,” Evander said curtly, “not so you can drip it over your girlfriend’s face. The smoke doesn’t matter. Without water, all four of us will be dead.”
Ironically enough, the vampire was including himself in this assessment. His own thirst might have rivaled the others, enough that he’d been willing to take blood from Eden in those first moments after the storm, but upon seeing his lover stumble painfully down the mountain, he’d realized the fae had none to spare. It was the latest topic upon which they disagreed.
“Just have something,” Eden pressed for the hundredth time, squinting against the blinding sunlight as he caught the vampire’s sleeve. “Have it now, before the choice is taken from you.”
They’d flirted with those lines before—when the vampire would catch a flinch or a flicker of reluctance, and then swear in a flurry of guilt and determination, his teeth would never pierce the fae again. He could go a few days, even a week. But one way or another, a vampire needed blood.
“I’ll just keep opening the vein myself,” he added preemptively, feeling around his cloak for a blade. “It can spill in the sand for all I care, so you might as well drink—”
A gentle hand closed over his own. “I am not so depleted, I could not stop you from doing that,” Evander answered wryly. “But I will be fine. And once we find some water...I shall drink from you as before.”
Eden glanced at the bandage circled around his chest, but said nothing.
Although it had gone against every screaming instinct, the men had returned to the scene of the crime—rifling through endless hills of sand for anything that could be salvaged from the storm.
They’d found a few items: a cooking pot they quickly discarded, a handful of elixirs, and two blades. Olin’s compass was there, along with their weathered map. One of Kiera’s books.
“That’s perfect,” Jesse muttered, never taking his eyes from the sand. “Eden can give blood to you, and then you can give it to her. Like a great big circle...that saves everyone’s lives.”
Needless to say, it wasn’t the first time they’d had the conversation.
Aside from the initial appraisal in which he determined the vampire would live, Jesse hadn’t said a single word to Evander that wasn’t a hot-tempered demand for his blood.
It can heal her, can it not? He would shout—back when they still had water and there was energy to shout. I could give seven hells about your bond, Evander. Give her your damn blood!
The vampire would answer with varying degrees of impatience.
However inconceivable, the girl wasn’t actually hurt. She had been attacked by a dragon, but remained perfectly intact. She was merely unable to wake. His blood would not fix that.
The answer would come back in spades.
Give it to her, or I will take it from you.
That day, Evander didn’t answer at all. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself enough to control his temper. Perhaps he was merely unspeakably tired. Whatever the reason, the fae spoke for him.
“She is not hurt,” he said softly, the same words he’d said so many times before. “Though it passes understanding, there is not a mark on her. Whatever is happening...she needs time.”
It was like asking a fire not to kindle, like asking the moon to hold back the tides.
Jesse gave him a scathing look, then muttered something about searching for cactus. He paused just long enough to deposit Kiera safely in the fae’s arms—before shedding his clothes and then shedding his skin a moment after, loping across the sand on all fours. Evander glared after him, then pressed a kiss to the fae’s cheek, and took off in the opposite direction, searching for the same.
Eden stared after them, standing in the middle of the sand. After a few seconds, he knelt down with a sigh, laying Kiera across his legs and propping up his cloak to make a bit of shade.
“Don’t worry about them,” he said softly. “You just sleep, sweetheart.”
Without seeming to think about it, he pulled a cord off his wrist and began gathering up her matted locks of hair, combing his fingers through each one and humming under his breath. Once they were ready, he weaved them together into a braid, tucking the wisps away from her eyes.
“There, that’s better.”
He started to say something else, then paused abruptly—staring at the tiny stone that had rolled out of her cloak. It had been the only thing untouched by the dragon’s fire, pressed innocently in the palm of her hand. The ocean blues and swirling clouds were gone, leaving it a deep blood-red.
He stared a moment longer, then tucked it into her pocket. “Sleep for however long you need.”
Chapter 2
The fae was right, they needed time. The problem was, they didn’t have it.
By the time they reached the following morning, the sluggish hours seemed to stretch even longer than before. They were no longer aware of the passage of time, of how long they had been walking. Sometimes they would swear it had been hours, then glance at the sky to see everything exactly as it had been before. Other times, they would jolt with a sudden start back to the present, surprised the world had darkened around them, surprised they were already shivering with the cold.
It was one of the ways they knew their situation was growing dire—they no longer felt a differentiation between the two. It was merely another form of discomfort, another torture they must bear with gritted teeth. If it hadn’t been for the shivering, they wouldn’t have noticed at all.
Piece by piece, the strongest of wills began to crumble.
It soon reached the point where Jesse was no longer able to carry Kiera on his own. He surrendered her now to the others, the three of them taking turns to ferry her beneath the sun. It was scarcely a burden, the girl was lighter than their packs, but it added significantly to the heat, and those scorching rays had become their undoing—leeching the moisture straight out of them, seeping through their clothes and burrowing into their skulls. Making their eyelids heavy enough to fall.
Those who’d felt such a thing before shuddered inwardly at the rapid progression—casting occasional glances toward the sun, as though watching the hands on a clock. Those who hadn’t merely prayed the nightmare would soon be over, focusing only on the next hillside, the next step.
For however long they could.
“I must rest,” Evander said suddenly, dropping to one knee.
It was perhaps the first time over the course of their travels, the vampire had been the one to say it. But a single look at him, and the others couldn’t understand why he hadn’t said it miles before. The injuries he’d sustained in the storm had done nothing to heal, but merely settled into permanence—sharpening his already vivid features and bleaching his skin a truly frightening hue.
Even now, his fist was pressed hard against his chest—as though it was the only thing keeping him together. Each breath was shallow and ragged, fluttering the tips of his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he panted, head bowed to his chest. “It’s just for a—”
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Eden declared suddenly, appearing by his side. With delicate hands, he lowered Kiera to the ground and eased the vampire down beside her, ignoring his halfhearted protests and smoothing back his hair. Twice, his eyes flicked over those crimson bandages before he pushed to his feet. In a soft undertone, he turned to the wolf. “Are you still able to shift?”
Jesse had been standing quietly behind them—surprised they were stopping so early, but having no better idea himself. His eyes tightened around the edges, considering the question.
“Probably,” he finally managed, “but it would only be the once.” He squinted over the heat-soaked plains, every mile exactly as before. “I won’t be able to do it again.”
The finality struck both at the same time, and they shared a quiet look.
“Now is the time for bold decisions,” Eden murmured, turning his body as if hoping the vampire wouldn’t hear. “We cannot go another day like this, and have no reserves to protect us if something comes in the night. There were plants here before, we ate them. Surely the storm cannot have displaced them all. Search for as long as you can, then come back. Whatever happens, do not get stranded on your own. Not that you’ll be alone,” he added, “you’ll soon have company.”
Jesse glanced back in surprise, already taking off his clothes. “You’re coming?”
Eden flashed the barest look over his shoulder.
Not I...someone much faster.
“Hurry,” he answered, as though he couldn’t hear. “While there’s still a bit of light.”
There was the quickest of nods, followed by a splash of sand.
For once in his life, the vampire remained oblivious.
He was sitting exactly where the fae had left him, propped up against Kiera, bracing painfully against the searing pressure in his chest. He didn’t notice when the wolf took off running into the distance. He didn’t even notice Eden had returned, until he saw the fae’s hand resting on his leg.
His eyes lifted slowly, taking an extra second to focus on that breathtaking face. “Have we stopped?”
Eden stared a moment, taking in every detail with a flash of those bright eyes, then he settled in the sand beside him—unlacing the top of his tunic, and sweeping back his dusty hair.
“You’re going to have a drink.”
In hindsight, it was possible the fae didn’t realize the stakes with which he was playing. To offer a starving vampire a taste of immortal blood? His lover was just as likely to rip out his throat than answer. As it stood, Evander took a single look at the exposed curve of neck, before turning deliberately in the opposite direction, hating the way those fangs sank eagerly into his lower lip.
“Do not show me such things,” he said accusingly, glancing again before he was able to stop himself. “I cannot take your blood, my love. You are injured. You must gather your strength.”
Eden regarded him with a steady gaze, moving even closer. “We need someone to gather their strength if we’re going to make it out of here,” he replied with a tilt of his head. “It doesn’t need to be me. And you are far more injured yourself.”
Those dark eyes flashed again to his neck.
“Eden, you’re...” The vampire caught himself, unwilling to say the rest so directly. “I cannot sense you so easily as before. You are fading. You must think of your own—”
“I must think of my own needs?” the fae guessed, tangling their legs together and locking them into place. “That’s what I’m doing, this is essentially a selfish request.” He paused a few inches away, staring intently into the vampire’s eyes. “I will die if you don’t do this.”
A crushing silence fell between them.
“This is why you sent the wolf away,” Evander said bluntly. “Because you know such a thing could hasten your death. Because you know he would never allow it.”
Eden flashed a tired smile. “You’re a genius, love. You’ve solved it.”
The vampire let out a sigh, seeming to wilt straight into the sand. “Please don’t make jokes,” he said softly, unwilling to look at the fae straight on. It was a difficult task, considering how close his lover had brought them together. He was beginning to suspect there was something rather deliberate in that as well. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. I have so little control already, you cannot imagine the risk—”
“I sleep beside that risk every night, so please don’t make me beg for it.” Eden stared at him a lingering moment before shaking his head. “I haven’t the strength,” he said simply. “I haven’t the strength to search myself, and unless the skies open with rain, that is unlikely to change. But there is a chance for all of us if you go. Perhaps the only chance we have.” His eyes traced over the vampire’s chest, lingering on that frayed bandage. “You cannot go anywhere such as you are.” He leaned even closer and tilted his head, offering his neck between them. “But I can help with that.”
The vampire stared back in silence. There was a part of him that knew the fae was right. A very small part, mercilessly rejected. But he had never been able to see anything past Eden.
“You would bleed out and die,” he said flatly. “I could do nothing to stop it. Even if you managed to hang on long enough for my return—what then? You trudge for hours in the sand?”
The fae let out a tired breath. “If I must.”
“Eden, you really are the most—”
“This is what I want,” the fae interrupted softly. “This is what I’m choosing for myself. My life, my decisions.” The pair of them locked eyes. “I thought you just promised to respect that.”
The silence that hung between them was hard as any that had come before. Try as he might, Evander wasn’t able to break it. After a few seconds, Eden leaned down to catch his eye.
“Please, mios,” he said quietly. “I will beg if I must.”
Whatever the vampire’s other qualms, it seemed as though he wasn’t willing to make his lover do that. He let out a single breath, almost as punctuation, then gave the slightest of nods.
“Not your neck,” he murmured, fastening the laces on the fae’s tunic. “It would be too hard to stop the bleeding. One of your wrists.”
Eden considered a moment, then selected an arm. “Might as well be this one,” he said with a little flutter of nerves. “Since I won’t be using a—”
“—I already apologized for the bow,” Evander said shortly. “And I truly cannot believe you would bring that up in a time like this.”
The fae raised his eyebrows, rolling up his sleeve. “Apologized?” he repeated. “You mean—when you got angry with me for catching you, didn’t admit say much of anything, and then stormed off into the desert? Was that the apology?”
And you accuse my kind of being theatrical.
Evander set his jaw stiffly, taking the fae’s arm. “I was giving you space.”
Eden let out a breath of hard laughter. “You were giving me—”
The tips of those fangs pressed against his skin, and he pulled back suddenly—wrenching himself out of the vampire’s hands. For a moment, the two merely sat there, frozen in surprise.
Then a flush of shame crept over Eden’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, still bracing in spite of himself. His heart was pounding, loud enough for the vampire to hear. “I don’t...I don’t know what came over me—”
“I believe I do,” Evander murmured with a faint smile. “As much control as it takes for me to stop drinking, I imagine it takes a good deal of control for you to sit there as well. That isn’t the easiest habit to encourage in oneself, the daily anticipation of pain. It’s never seemed to bother you,” he added suddenly, glancing with a curious expression at the fae. “You always seem...so calm.”
Eden stared back without expression. “Evander, it bothers me a great deal.”
In the most unlikely of moments, the vampire flashed a grin—those dark eyes twinkling with silent laughter as they fell upon the fae. They lingered a moment, then grew suddenly serious.
“I’m going to stop,” he said abruptly, catching them both off guard.
Eden tensed in surprise, then nodded quickly. “I know you will.”
It’s far easier to lie to a vampire.
In the blink of an eye, they were back where they started—those glinting fangs poised a breath away from the fae’s skin. Instead of turning away, like he usually did, Eden leaned abruptly closer—kissing the vampire softly, before whispering in his ear, keep your eyes open.
Four little words, they probably saved his life.
Evander drank as sparingly as he could, but there was much to heal, and at several points, raw instinct took over. It was those sparkling eyes that brought him back again—holding him accountable, reminding him of everything there was to be gained, and everything there was to lose.
The second he finished, he ripped a strip of linen from the bottom of his tunic, wrapping it firmly around the fae’s wrist. It stained through almost immediately, but staunched the bleeding.
