“What do you need?” he asked, once he reached her side, bag in hand.
“There’s a vial inside. A potion I made to lessen the effects of the blood
curse. I took one before I broke the spell, but I’m not sure it did much good.”
As horrible as her wounds were, he suspected her potion did help. If Racine’s
account was accurate, the blood curse could have been a lot worse. “This?” He
held up a glass tube with blue liquid inside, so bright it almost glowed in the
dark room.
“Yes,” she panted, clearly in pain. “Pour it directly onto my wounds.”
He hesitated. “Will it hurt?”
She managed a small shrug. “It can’t hurt any worse than it does now.”
If he ever discovered the Sorcerer who created this blood curse, he would put
him or her in the ground. After he made them bleed, a lot. Removing the stopper,
he tipped the vial over her wounds. The blue, shimmering potion dropped into the
deep gashes and started to bubble. Celia sucked in a sharp breath.
“Does it hurt?”
She giggled. “No. It tickles.”
Odd, but better than hurting. If he had his way, Celia would never feel any
pain again.
He watched in amazement as the potion bubbled and sparked. Before his eyes,
her wounds started to shrink. The skin began to knit itself together. In just a
few short minutes, those deep, raw cuts reduced to three long, thin scars. The
skin remained red and tender, but the wounds had closed.
“Wow.”
“Did it work?”
“Baby, you are one amazing Witch.”
A smiled tipped her lips as her cheeks tinged a tempting pink. She rolled to
her side, then winced and rolled back.
“Well, it’s better. That’s a start. I guess I’ll have to sleep on my stomach
tonight.” She frowned and he found the expression adorable. “I hate sleeping on
my stomach. I can never fall asleep that way. It’s so uncomfortable.”
He stood and started to unbutton his shirt.
“Damien?”
He didn’t answer, just continued to undress until he was down to his boxers.
Then he slipped into bed with her and pulled her onto his chest.
“There. Better?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Much.”
Careful of her back, he wrapped his arms around her and immediately realized
his mistake. Celia was naked. He’d removed her clothes himself, but had been too
distracted by her wounds to notice or appreciate her nudity. He noticed it now.
Silky, soft flesh pressed against every inch of his body. Her firm breasts
smashed against his chest, and he felt her nipples begin to harden. One leg
draped across his groin, moving slowly back and forth. Yeah, he noticed all
right. If the rising tent in his boxers was any indication, he appreciated it,
too.
Daemon Deception
Flight of the White Wolf
