Page 127 of Treasured

I had no idea it was possible to be so sore, so hurt, and so utterly bad at something.

Did I ever think I was good at fighting? Every other time we had practiced these skills together—which, admittedly, was not much—I’d at least felt like I was learning something. When Sebastian and I flew together, I felt like his equal.

Now, every single year that separated us was evident. Every decade he had more than me was echoed in the aches in my joints. Even my fangs hurt.

Blood tears streaked down my face, having started flowing around the same time I’d lost feeling in my ass. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop crying. I was a bloody, snotty, achy mess.

And Sebastian did not give up.

“Again,” he snarled for what must have been the hundredth time. Shadows whirled around his arms, and I sobbed as I reached within myself.

You can do this, I told myself. You must do this.

Thirteen days remained until we would challenge the strongest vampire in the land. That didn’t seem long, especially considering the abysmal state of my fighting abilities.

I wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but I didn’t. I kept looking for the Tether. It took a few heartbeats before the flickering cord appeared.

I sought it out, grabbing and yanking it as hard as I could. A heartbeat passed, and then I felt it. A floodgate opened, and his magic slammed into me just in time. I threw up a wall of shadows, stumbling back. His sphere collided with the barrier with a boom, and I fell to the floor, exhausted.

Instantly, Sebastian drew his shadows into himself. He crossed the room in a blur and gathered me in his arms.

“Good job,” he praised.

I stared up at him. We had vastly differing definitions of “good.” I said, “I barely touched the Tether.”

“But you did it.”

“Barely,” I grunted. One success after hours of failure wasn’t much.

Seeming to sense how done I was, Sebastian’s shadows gathered around us. He held me close as the empty storage room disappeared. We were in the Void for seconds, if that. I barely had time to inhale and prepare for the onslaught of voices when the shadow rose, and the scent of salt filled my nose.

Sebastian placed me on a bench. “Put your wings away,” he directed.

I did.

“Lift your arms.”

I complied.

He slipped my disgusting, sweaty tunic off me, discarding it on the ground. My leggings soon followed, and then he divested himself of clothing. He picked me up once more and walked slowly into the water.

I hissed. The liquid was at once a soothing balm and too much for my weary muscles to take. He slowed down even further, only moving when I confirmed I was alright.

Eventually, we made it into the water. I stood… or at least, I attempted to. My aching legs shook so hard, my teeth clattered. Wordlessly, Sebastian held me up. When my arms trembled during my attempt at lathering shampoo into my hair, he took over. Every glide of his hands over my skin, every gentle caress, every feather-soft kiss was an apology for the so-called training.

I leaned against him, letting him take care of me. He was my other half, my strength, my rock.

Once my entire body was clean, Sebastian placed me on the ledge. He dunked himself quickly. I absolutely, definitely, did not watch as the water sluiced off his sculpted chest. Nor did I observe as he washed his hair and body, noting how he seemed unaffected by our training session.

Then, when Sebastian was still completely bare, he turned to me and offered his hand. He lifted me out of the water as though I weighed nothing, and I clung to him. We hadn’t even been out of the water for a minute before he wrapped a fluffy towel around me. He maneuvered another around his waist, somehow making sure he didn’t drop me during the process.

“Hold on,” he said gruffly.

I nodded, words still too hard to come by.

The shadows came, and we traveled through the Void once more. The voices barely had the chance to begin their now-familiar tune, crying out, “Death is coming,” before we landed in our bedroom.

The moment the shadows lifted, Sebastian put me on the bed. Rummaging through the wardrobe, he pulled out a nightgown and helped it over my head. His movements were so gentle, so soft, that it was hard to remember that a mere hour ago, he had been attacking me relentlessly in the name of training.