“Open your eyes, Poppy. Come on.” I pried the dagger loose from her grip, letting it fall to the floor. The fact that she clung to it like that fucking cut me up. My hand shook as I took hold of her chin. “I need you to open your eyes.”
I dragged in a ragged breath as her blood continued pumping between Kieran’s fingers. It was bad. The wound was deep, and no one here could fix it with some balm and a bandage. She was… Fucking gods, she was going to—no, I would not allow it.
“Please,” I demanded—begged, really.
The skin around her eyes pinched. Those thick lashes fluttered, then lifted.
“There you are.” I forced a smile because I didn’t want her to be scared. I didn’t want her to see what I knew. I didn’t want her to have this memory to add to her other terrible ones because she would survive this. I knew that the moment I heard the wolven howling.
“It hurts,” she rasped.
“I know.” Shuddering, I held her gaze. “I’m going to fix it. I’ll make the pain go away. I’ll make it all go away. You won’t carry one more scar.”
Her chest moved with a shallow breath. “I’m… I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not,” I snarled, terror crashing into fear. “You cannot die. I will not allow it.”
There was no hesitation. No second thoughts as I lifted my wrist to my mouth and bit down deep. Poppy cried out, and Kieran jerked his hand away from her wound, stumbling back a step as my blood touched my tongue. I tore my flesh open.
I saw a brief look of concern flash across her face.
“I’m going to die an imbecile,” Poppy whispered.
Lifting my wrist, I frowned. “You’re not going to die, and I’m fine. I just need you to drink.”
Kieran had gone rigid. “Casteel, do you—？”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, and I don’t want your opinion or your advice.” Blood trailed down my arm. “And I don’t require either.”
He got the message and stayed silent.
Poppy did not, however. She tried to pull away. “No,” she rasped. “No.”
I held her against me. “You have to. You’ll die if you don’t.”
“I’d rather…die than turn into a monster,” she swore.
“A monster?” I laughed at the absurdity. “Poppy, I already told you the truth about the Craven. This will only make you better.”
She turned her head from me.
The hollowness in my chest spread. “You will do this. You will drink. You will live. Make that choice, Princess.” My voice thickened. “Do not force me to make it for you.”
She shook her head weakly, still struggling to free herself.
Fuck, there was no time to argue with her, to try to convince her of what she didn’t believe. I’d given her a choice. She’d given me none.
“Penellaphe.” I spoke her name as I summoned the eather from deep within. It flowed through my veins and filled my voice with the power of the gods. “Look at me.”
Slowly, her gaze met mine. Her lips parted.
“Drink,” I commanded, pushing hard with the compulsion as I brought my wrist to her mouth. “Drink from me.”
A drop of blood fell from my arm to her lips. It slipped between them, and she jerked slightly. I pressed my wrist to her mouth. My blood seeped in, coating her tongue, coursing down her throat, but I held my breath and waited.
Poppy swallowed.
“That’s it,” I rasped. “Drink.”
Those green eyes locked onto mine as she drank, drawing my blood into her. She didn’t look away as she swallowed again and again, even after I eased up on the compulsion, letting her go. She drank from me on her own, the repulsion of doing so passing the moment she tasted my blood. It wouldn’t be like she expected.
Poppy’s eyes drifted shut as her fingers pressed into my forearm, but I didn’t close mine. I watched her intently, vaguely aware of Kieran quietly leaving the chamber. It was just us as she fed. I focused on her breathing, her pulse. Both strengthened and steadied, her overtaxed heart becoming stronger as I cleared my mind of the fury and terror. I didn’t want her to pick up on any of that. I wanted her to feel safe.
Her steady pulls against my wrist became almost languid, and still she took from me, hungrily, greedily. I let my head rest against the wall. For some reason, I thought of the Stroud Sea, how it had looked to me when I climbed my way out of the tunnels. The sun had hurt my eyes after being held underground for so long, but even with them stinging and watering, I hadn’t been able to look away from the sparkling blue waters. Pence had been right. The Stroud Sea was beautiful.
The image of the water scattered as Poppy squirmed a little against me. From the depths of my memories, another image took shape. Smooth rock. Clearer water drenched in shadows that smelled of lilacs. The cavern.
I swore I felt Poppy’s presence as my last memory of there started to piece itself together. As if she were inside my mind. My breath snagged.
I opened my eyes, heart racing as I looked down at Poppy. “Enough,” I rasped. The color had returned to her flesh. “That’s enough.”
Poppy…gods, as gloriously stubborn as ever, was latched on to my wrist. Clearly, she didn’t believe she’d had enough. She pulled on the punctures I’d created, and those greedy drags hit every sensory point in my body.
“Poppy,” I groaned, pulling my wrist from her.
She started to follow but then relaxed against me, her eyes closing again. The way she looked reminded me of when she’d fallen asleep as I told her about my scars. Sated. Peaceful. Happy.
I tucked that rebellious strand of hair back, my fingers sifting through the silken tangles as I let my head rest against the wall once more. Admittedly, I got a little lost in just holding her in the quiet. I wasn’t even sure how much time had passed, but I wouldn’t forget the calm moments even if the world outside demanded I do so.
“Poppy,” I called out to her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not cold,” she answered after a moment. “My chest…it’s not cold.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“I feel…different,” she added.
A small smile tugged at my lips. “Good.”
“I feel like my body…isn’t attached.”
“That will go away after a few minutes,” I told her. Feeding caused a high. It wasn’t the only thing it did, but as long as she remained as she was, the effects would pass. “Just relax and enjoy it.”
“I don’t hurt anymore.” Poppy was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s my blood.” That strand had already made its way to her cheek. I really liked that piece of hair. I brushed it back. Poppy shivered, and a scent other than her blood reached me. I ignored it. “The blood of an Atlantian has healing properties. I told you that.”
“That…that is unbelievable,” Poppy murmured.
“Is it?” I reached over her, picking up her arm. “Were you not wounded here?”
She looked, but nothing but dried blood and dirt marred her flesh.
“And here?” I moved my hand so my thumb swirled around her upper arm, right below the shoulder. “Were you not clawed here?”