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?”
Once more, her gaze followed where I directed. Wonder filled her. “There’s…there are no new scars.”
“There will be no new scars. That is what I promised,” I reminded her.
“Your blood…” She swallowed. “It’s amazing.”
I was glad she thought that now. Later? Likely a different story.
Poppy’s gaze snapped back to mine. “You made me drink your blood.”
“I did.”
Her nose scrunched. “How?”
“It’s one of those things that occur during maturity,” I explained. “Not all of us can…compel others.”
“Have you done it before?” she asked. “On me?”
“You probably wish you could blame your prior actions on that,” I stated dryly. “But I haven’t, Poppy. I never needed nor wanted to.”
Confusion settled, causing her to purse her lips. “But you did it now.”
“I did.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t even sound remotely ashamed.”
“I’m not,” I admitted, fighting a grin. “I told you that I would not allow you to die, and you would’ve died, Princess. You were dying.” A cold, harsh slice of pain cut through my stomach. “I saved your life. Some would suggest a thank you as the appropriate response.”
“I didn’t ask you to do it,” she said, and I’d never been more grateful to see that stubborn chin of hers lift.
“But you’re grateful, aren’t you?” I teased.
Poppy pressed her lips together.
Amusement rose. “Only you would argue with me about this.”
“I won’t turn—”
“No.” I sighed, lowering her arm to her stomach. “I told you the truth, Poppy. The Atlantians did not make the Craven. The Ascended did.”
Poppy stared at me, her chest rising sharply, and I thought I saw it then. A smidgen of acceptance before she looked at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. “We’re in a bedchamber.”
“We needed privacy.”
Her brow pinched. “Kieran didn’t want you to save me.”
“Because it’s forbidden.”
“Will I turn into a vampry?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it because she was beginning to accept the truth.
“What about that is funny?”
“Nothing.” I grinned. “I know you still don’t want to believe the truth, but deep down, you do. That’s why you asked that question.” I glanced at the door as I heard footsteps approach, then retreat. “To turn, you would require far more blood than that. It would also require me to be more of an active participant.”
The breath she took was soft. “How…how would you be more of an active participant?”
My smile spread. “Would you rather I show you instead of telling you?”
“No,” she said, even as her desire increased.
I closed my eyes. “Liar.”
Poppy fell quiet again, and I knew I should get her cleaned up and then into bed so she could rest. Alone. There were things I needed to take care of. People I wanted to kill. Slowly. Painfully.
But she was warm and alive, safe in my arms, and I wasn’t ready to leave.
I would pay for that, sooner rather than later because Poppy’s breathing had changed. Her pulse had quickened. The other effects of my blood that I’d foolishly hoped would pass her by were now hitting her.
“Are…Naill and Delano okay?” she asked, her voice thicker, lusher.
“They will be fine,” I told her. “And I’m sure they’ll be happy to know you asked about them.”
Poppy didn’t respond to that. Perhaps she had, and I just didn’t hear her over my pounding pulse. I inhaled deeply and swallowed a groan. Her scent surrounded me, and I felt her heated stare on me. I could fucking feel exactly where her mind was going.