Not a single tear escaped Poppy, but she shook, beyond hearing me. I started to pull back, easing my hold. Her heart was racing. “Poppy?”
She twisted again, rolling onto her side as she gulped air. “Let me go.”
“Poppy,” I repeated, pressing my fingers to her pulse. I swore. “Your heart is racing too fast.”
“Let me go!” she shouted so loud and fiercely it carried weight, had its own power.
I dropped an arm but didn’t let go completely. No mortal’s heart could beat like that continuously. She had to calm, but she was beyond that. Fuck. She planted her hands on the floor, her body still shaking. This was too much for her—too much for anyone. I knew what I would have to do. It would be yet another reason for her to hate me, but I’d rather her curse my very existence than be dead. I started to pull her back to me as she suddenly whipped my way. “Poppy.”
She pushed against my chest—
The breath I took was stolen.
She…she hadn’t pushed against my chest. That wouldn’t have caused the sudden, stunning, red-hot agony there. Pain that took my breath.
Poppy’s wild, wide eyes locked with mine. Slowly, I looked down.
A dagger jutted from my chest.
Disbelief thundered through me. Poppy had stabbed me. Just as I’d told her to do under the willow if I did something she didn’t like.
She jerked her hand off the hilt of the dagger and scuttled back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Dragging my stare from the dagger, I saw the tears she’d been fighting spill over. I’d only seen her cry for Vikter. For someone she cared about. “You’re crying,” I rasped, tasting blood. My blood.
Pure, unadulterated horror filled her beautiful eyes. She shot to her feet, backing away. Her entire body shook. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
I choked on a laugh as I pitched forward, slamming my hand against the floor. That laughter cost me, causing my chest to burn. “No,” I gasped. “No, you’re not.”
Poppy shook her head. A sound came from her as she turned, ripping open the door. And then she did something I didn’t think she’d ever really done before.
She ran.
IN THE SNOW
“Fucking gods,” I grunted, stunned by the myriad of emotions. I was shocked that she’d actually done it, furious because she’d meant it, and also amused. I gripped the dagger’s hilt.
Kieran suddenly appeared in the open door. “Good gods.” He staggered forward a step, his breathing ragged. “She stabbed you.”
“Just a little.” I jerked the dagger free. Pain exploded as I thrust the blade into the floor. “Fuck.”
“A little?” Kieran snarled. “Did she get your heart?”
“Almost.” Or maybe just a little. Perhaps a nick. “And with bloodstone. A half an inch to the left?” Another wet, bloody laugh left me as anger seeped through my veins like a fire. “That would’ve…really hurt.”
A low rumble of fury radiated from Kieran. My head jerked up as the predator in me woke. His skin had thinned, jaw elongating. The blue of his eyes was as brilliant as stars. His head swung toward the door as his chest expanded, stretching the seams of his tunic. It was more than just the bond kicking in, demanding he go after the one who’d harmed me. If he did, he would capture Poppy…
“No.” I shoved to my feet, ignoring a burst of fresh agony. “Do not go after her. I will get her.” I took a breath. It stung, but the blade was out. The wound would heal quickly. The pain would stop. “I will handle her.”
Tendons stood out in his neck as his head whipped back to me. He vibrated with rage. “I’m going to—”
“No,” I roared, lunging. I edged Kieran back from the door, fangs bared. “She is mine.”
Kieran locked up, then took an unsteady step back, his mouth going slack. “Cas…”
There was nothing else for me to say. I turned from him, taking off. She is mine repeated itself as I leapt over the second-floor banister. I hit the ground hard, sending another wave of pain through me. Rising among the falling snow, I scanned the covered courtyard, dragging a hand over my chest. The wound was already closing.
“The woods.” Elijah stood at the keep’s entrance. “She ran into the woods.”
Where did she think she was going, unprotected from the elements and without a weapon? My chin dipped, lips curving into a snarl. Whatever humor I’d found in the situation vanished. Stabbing me was one thing. Risking her life like this was something entirely different.
Poppy was bound and determined to get herself killed.
And perhaps I was, too.
The pain and blood loss sharpened my senses, leaving little room for anything beyond anger. That was dangerous for anyone, but especially an elemental Atlantian.
Crossing the courtyard in the blowing snow, I hit the woods and picked up speed. The snow-dusted branches were a blur as I caught her scent. Veering to the left, I rushed beneath a half-fallen pine.
I noticed a flash of dark red among the world of white and green, and a savage smile split my lips. There she was.
Warning bells rang in a distant part of my head. I’d felt this kind of madness before. I’d lived it. Regretted it. Accepted it. Only once. Decades ago, when I locked eyes with Shea and realized that she’d betrayed my brother. That madness was like standing on the precipice of a cliff, staring down at the fall.
And here I was, on that edge once more.
Like a predator, I made no sound. I gave no warning as I hunted Poppy and caught her with an arm around her waist.
She shrieked as her feet left the ground. I hauled her back against my chest, and the anguish I felt had nothing to do with the pain of the still-healing wound. It was for her. Me. This situation. Us. And the madness I was teetering on the verge of—the kind that erased all that mattered and left no winners. I gripped her chin, forcing her head back with the very hand that had killed so many. Those who had it coming. Those who didn’t. My fingers pressed into Poppy’s jaw just as they had hers.
“An Atlantian, unlike a wolven or an Ascended, can’t be killed by a stab to the heart,” I snarled into her ear. My anger at her reckless flight faded. The disbelief that she’d actually stabbed me vanished. All that was an agony that ran deeper than the physical. “If you wanted to kill me, you should’ve aimed for the head, Princess.” My jaw throbbed. “But worse yet, you forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she gasped.
“That it was real,” I growled.
I began to fall into that madness.
I struck, sinking my fangs into the side of her throat. I felt her entire body jerk against mine as my arm clamped down on her. Hot blood hit my tongue. I didn’t even taste it. I was falling, my mouth sealed to her throat, my fangs still buried deep in her flesh. I knew exactly what it felt like when the fangs remained in. The bite would feel like being burned alive, creating a firestorm of pain. Fragile skin would eventually tear. Her neck wouldn’t be broken by my hands, but Poppy would—
No.
This wasn’t Shea.
This was the Maiden.
The Chosen.
Penellaphe Balfour.
Poppy.
Mine.