Prophecy: Child of Light (17 page)

She looked from him to the woman and back again. “But I’ve never fought a werewolf before.”

“It is about time you learned then.” He removed his jacket and placed it over a bench before he walked out into the open square.

She couldn’t move. She didn’t know what to do. She had to fight, but a part of her was begging her to remain in the safety of the trees. Valentine would be able to handle this. He wouldn’t need her help so she was fine where she was. A quiet voice at the back of her mind said that she was hiding because she was frightened of going into a fight where she didn’t know the strengths and weaknesses of her opponent. She couldn’t even remember how to kill a werewolf. She knew it wasn’t just silver that could kill them. Although they were immortal like her, they were weaker and more vulnerable than a vampire. She cast her mind back, trying to remember what Tiberius had told her when she’d been learning about different demon species. A werewolf could be killed by silver, severe blood loss and decapitation or breaking of the neck. She didn’t have any silver other than her necklace, she didn’t have a weapon that she could use to damage it enough to create severe blood loss, and she didn’t think she had the strength to break its neck. She had to fight it though.

She’d feel a lot better if she didn’t have to fight bare handed.

Her eyes scanned the bushes surrounding her for something she could make use of. There wasn’t even a decent-sized branch to make a club from.

She was really going to have to start carrying a weapon.

She watched as the werewolf and Valentine began to circle each other, both of them growling as they sized their opponent up. She had to move. She should be fighting by his side, not cowering in a bush. He was relying on her to help and she really did need to learn how to fight a werewolf if she was going to survive this prophecy.

Valentine changed into vampire guise. His face shifted when his teeth descended and his eyes became a rich blue. She flinched when he launched himself forwards, clashing with the werewolf as it mimicked his move. The twin roars of the warriors in front of her made her feeling of nausea worsen. Valentine lashed out at the werewolf, leaving deep gashes across its chest where his claws had made contact. The werewolf sneered at him, growling low in its throat as it leapt backwards, placing some distance between it and Valentine.

She couldn’t move as the two pounced on each other again. Their actions were raw and primal, not measured or executed with skill. They both slashed and hacked with their claws, not giving the other an inch as they attempted to defend themselves while attacking. There was no room between them and as they moved into a darker area of the square, they seemed to merge into one. Fur flew as they clashed, their growls filling the night air. She couldn’t tell who was winning.

A loud roar filled her ears and instinct drove her to run out into the square. She hadn’t needed to be able to see them to know that Valentine was hurt. When she reached them, she saw the werewolf hunched over Valentine with its teeth sunk deep into his shoulder.

She leapt onto its back, grappling with it as she tried to get an arm around its neck and drag it off him. When it released Valentine, she struggled to get her hands on its jaw. It tried to get her off its back, its teeth gnashing as it attempted to bite her hands.

She slipped into vampire guise and dug her claws deep into the flesh under its jaw and the side of its head. She tried to summon the strength to kill the beast as it shook, trying to shift her while she clung on tightly. It wouldn’t come.

A low moan caught her attention.

She didn’t need to summon any strength. When she saw Valentine lying on the ground with one hand pressed to his shoulder and smelled the blood on him, she roared.

Twisting the werewolf’s head, she smiled in satisfaction when she heard the bones in its neck crunch. It fell to the floor with her still on its back. She sprang off, her face shifting back into her human guise while she ran over to Valentine.

She pressed her hand to his where he held his shoulder and then withdrew it, frowning at the sticky, dark blood that coated her fingers. He removed his hand to inspect the damage and fear clenched her heart.

The wound was bad. There were deep, ragged teeth marks in his left shoulder and the whole of his shirt on that side was wet with blood and saliva. It looked as though the werewolf had been chewing him.

“I must taste good.” He pressed his hand back to his shoulder and grimaced.

She looked from him to the werewolf. The woman had changed back now. She was lying naked on the floor with her blonde hair caked with blood and deep scratches marking her pale flesh. Crimson stained her lips and chin.

Prophecy realised that the werewolf had been drinking his blood in an attempt to weaken him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have fought beside you from the beginning, then you wouldn’t be hurt,” she said. Her brows furrowed into a worried look and she touched his shoulder again.

“It is not you fault.” He pushed himself up onto his feet, his left arm dangling limp at his side. He stretched and gritted his teeth, his fingers clutching tightly at his shoulder.

“We should get that patched up.” She pointed to the wound. She wanted to tend to it, not only to alleviate her guilt, but because she needed him strong if they were going to make it through this. The battles that lay ahead of them were only going to get harder. They both had to be strong.

She followed him over to the bench where he’d placed his jacket and helped him slip it on over his good arm. He winced and sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth when she placed it over his injured shoulder and she gave him an apologetic look.

His eyes met hers and she didn’t bother hiding her concern. She ignored his weak protests as she manoeuvred herself under his good arm, letting it rest heavily on her shoulders and supporting his weight. Taking a deep breath, she started walking with him back to their hotel.

* * * *

P
rophecy settled Valentine on the edge of his bed and gently pushed the jacket off his bad shoulder before slipping it down his good arm. He looked pale. His skin was white and sickly and he kept swallowing, evidently trying to keep control of the pain. She waited for him to push her away but he didn’t. He just looked at her and she in turn stared at him.

His eyes moved to rest on the wound and hers followed suit.

There was blood everywhere. The sharp metallic smell of it tainted the air, making her stomach gurgle. Looking down at his shirt, she could see the blood soaking through. It created a sticky dark patch that stuck the black material to his skin. The wound looked deep. Her eyes flickered to the buttons on his shirt. She would need to remove it in order to clean the cuts. Werewolf saliva acted as an anti-coagulant and with vampires, it had a tendency to slow the healing. She had to clear the injury of as much of the saliva as possible. Some of it would have been absorbed into his body already, but she could aid him by removing the rest.

She took a deep breath and edged her hands towards the row of buttons. Her eyes met his. Her fingers curled into fists and she withdrew them slightly, trying to build up the courage to remove his shirt. He couldn’t do it himself, not without the use of his other hand.

She reached for the top button, fumbling with it as her fingers shook and moving swiftly onto the next one when it gave way. She kept her eyes fixed on her hands, not looking at his body as she gradually exposed it.

She was surprised that he was letting her do this for him. She’d half expected him to shut her out of his side of the suite once they’d made it back to the hotel, but here he was, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed and silently watching her every move. He was as still as a mill pond apart from the occasional twitch of his jaw muscle when the pain became too much and he gritted his teeth.

When she reached the last button, her eyes skipped over his chest and came to rest on his hurt shoulder. She carefully peeled the shirt back, ignoring the way he breathed in sharply each time she accidentally hurt him. She couldn’t help it. She was being as gentle as possible as she drew the sleeve down his arm and over his hand. She didn’t remove the rest of his shirt. It was better that it kept half of his chest hidden from view. That way she would be able to concentrate on what she was doing.

Walking into his bathroom, she gathered everything she could find that could be of help to her, deposited it on the bed beside him and then went to her bathroom to do the same. She emptied the fruit bowl that was in the living area and filled it with warm water from the sink in his bathroom. She walked slowly back into the bedroom, trying not to spill any of it, and placed it on the low table beside the bed. She glanced at Valentine, checking that he was still all right. He was staring at the wound and looking paler by the second.

She grabbed one of the washcloths and stared at it. It was white. Why was hotel stuff always white? It was the most ridiculous colour on the planet. There was no way she could use it. The blood would stain it and she’d never be able to get it out. The last thing they needed was the maid seeing a bloodied cloth.

She spotted the bag that Valentine had brought with them sitting by the door into the living area and opened it. Rifling through the clothes, she found the tunic top that Valentine had taken from her room when he’d kidnapped her. She gave it one last look and found she didn’t have the heart to tear it to shreds. Carrying it with her, she bunched a section of it up in her hands and dipped it into the water.

He winced when she dabbed his shoulder with it, applying tentative strokes to his skin to clear away the dried blood before moving on to the actual wound.

The bite was deep, cutting into his shoulder on both sides of his body. There were a series of perfect teeth marks where the werewolf had bitten him several times, probably trying to get a better grip on him. She bit her lip while she cleaned his back, her brows furrowing when the voice in the back of her head told her that this was all her fault. Valentine was hurt because of her. She cursed the tears as they began to fill her eyes and brushed them away so he wouldn’t see them. He’d only think she was even more of a child if he saw how badly she wanted to cry. It was all so difficult to deal with. She just wanted to break down and give in right now and they’d barely begun their journey.

Picking up the cotton wool and cotton buds that she’d found, she soaked them in the water and began to clean the wounds on his back. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes as she tried to clean the saliva out of the deep holes. He wasn’t bleeding as badly now so his body had probably begun to heal but it would be days before he was fully able to use his arm again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers tense against his knee, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She knew she was hurting him, but it had to be done. She just wished he knew how sorry she was.

She mentally berated herself for what she’d done and then made a silent promise to herself that she’d never hesitate again, especially if Valentine was in danger.

When she’d pulled the werewolf off him, she’d struggled to find the strength to kill it until she’d seen how hurt he was. In that moment, she’d felt power surge through her, making her feel invincible as she snapped the werewolf’s neck. She hadn’t felt like that before and she didn’t know where the strength had come from. It had felt strange and had left her fingers tingling and numb.

A split second before she’d felt the strength rise up in her, she’d thought about what would have happened if she had hesitated still. Valentine would have been lost to her. The werewolf would have killed him. That thought alone had given her the power to kill it.

Without him, she’d be alone in the world. No one else was on her side. Mathias wouldn’t work with her without Valentine there to make sure that he did. She knew that in her heart. He was only helping because Valentine had asked him to.

Moving around to clean the cuts on his chest, she briefly glanced at his face. He was watching her hands as she worked, his brows knit and his lips compressed. She could see the muscle in his jaw tensing whenever she hurt him. He was doing an admirable job of hiding how much he was hurting and steeling himself against the pain. She returned her attention to her work, going to soak another piece of cotton wool in the water and then realising that it was as red as blood.

She carried it into the bathroom and emptied it into the sink. She rinsed the bowl out and refilled it, staring into the mirror as it reflected nothing but an empty room back at her.

Sometimes she wondered what she looked like and sometimes she wondered how others saw her.

Valentine had called her a child more than once, but had also said she wasn’t a child. Other than Serenity, he was the first person to treat her like the adult she was. Her mother treated her as a child, her family treated her like a princess whom they wouldn’t speak to, and her brother treated her like a prize to be won or taken.

She looked down to see the water running over the edge of the bowl and sighed. Shutting the tap off, she emptied some of the water out and carried it back into the bedroom. She glanced at Valentine while she soaked some fresh cotton wool, her eyes straying to the patch of his chest and stomach she could see. His muscles were tensed, clearly defined beneath his pale skin, and she could see the scar over his heart.

She wasn’t a child.

He knew it.

He’d said it with so much fire in his eyes that she’d seen his desire for her through the drunken haze in her head.

She applied the cotton wool to the deep gash that ran upwards towards his shoulder. He’d confused her that night. After the way he’d acted in Oxford, she hadn’t known what to make of his reaction to her, and then tonight he’d been so concerned about her that she didn’t know what to make of her own feelings. To wake to find him sitting near her, his sleep-filled eyes showing her that he had watched over her all day, had stirred something inside her and the way he’d touched her cheek tonight had made heat sweep through her veins.