Page 65 of Of Flame and Fury
Tears well in Emme’s eyes. My lips part. She blinks several times, allowing them to spill. Bren bows his head, burying his face in his hands. God help me, I can’t take this.
He jerks when more of the knitting muscle tears open with an audible pop. I sigh and wipe a few tears of my own. “Just let her help you, Bren,” I beg. “If nothing else, do it for Celia and her baby.”
Bren lifts his head. “Fine,” he mumbles, pointing. “But I better be that kid’s godfather.”
I don’t bother telling him Aric’s already asked Gemini. I prop myself up on the cold counter and yawn. This bathroom has a modern flair. Square, elevated teal glass sinks sit atop a large cool slab of white quartz. Dark cabinetry line each side. Seafoam gel, soap, lotion, I don’t know, seafoamsomethingpenetrates through my nose permitting me to relax just a little. I start to lift the dispenser beside me to take a good whiff when I catch Emme’s state.
For all she insisted on healing Bren, her hands quiver, and she stays firmly in place. Roles have reversed, and now she’s the one afraid to touch him.
I slip away from the sink, wincing when my heels smack against the tile and throb. “Hey,” I say. “Are you okay?” I clasp her hands and turn them, examining her palms. They don’t carry that same redness displayed earlier, and while clearly tired, she appears well enough. Except Johnny’s magic has screwed with mine, it could have very well affected Emme’s.
“Taran, I’m all right.”
She’s speaking to me, but again her attention is on Bren.
“Is it hurting you to heal others?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” she admits. “The tainted magic within the manor is affecting me, and I’m feeling every injury I touch—it doesn’t hurt,” she insists when Bren’s head snaps up. “I just feel more of the person I touch.”
Emme rushes to Bren when he tries to stand, her small hands smoothing over his shoulders and keeping him in place. Bren grunts, his face twisting in agony the moment their skin connects.
I whirl around, yanking open drawers and searching for something that may help his pain.God damn it. Is it too much for the broom humpers to keep some ibuprofen up in this bitch?
Emme gasps, her eyes closing and her head falling back. I hurl myself on her, certain she’s passing out only to stop short.
Emme’s body trembles with the impact of their connection. Light spreads through her hands, cocooning him in her pale light. The light amplifies, swirling back to her and through her body, joining them both in brilliant light.
Emme is not simply healing Bren. Oh, hell to the no. She’s doing a lot more than that.
Their shoulders rise and fall in sync, their breathing tortured and increasing in speed. Emme moans, her head lolling from side to side.
Her lips part, and another quiver rocks her body. “I’m almost there,” she says.
Oh, shit, and so is Bren.
I drop the damn bottle of basil, peppermint, and lavender oil I managed to find for headaches, and my chin becomes one with the floor. Bren is pitching a massive tent. Massive! I almost expect people to come running out.
Emme cries out, her moans increasing, and her small brows knitting tight. Bren growls, low, deep, pained.
Emme’s head tips forward, and she presses her forehead against his. Bren grasps her wrists, holding her in place and keeping her close.
Bren’s skin seals closed, what remains of his wolf’s healing powers pushing out the infection he developed onto the floor. I toss a few towels on top of the mess because what the fuck else I’m going to do? That’s my sister, damn it.
As the last drop of tainted blood trickles down his leg, Bren wrenches away from Emme and grips the side of the sink. I catch Emme when she teeters back. She wipes the perspiration from her brow, her eyes glassy and her lashes fluttering madly.
She tries to speak. Her agonized breathing makes it hard. “I think I got all of it.”
Bren nods and blasts the cold water from the sink, splashing his face as hard as he can.
Emme straightens and edges toward him. “Are you all right?” she asks him. “Bren?” she says. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you.”
I’m ready to blast his balls into oblivion, but when he turns and looks at her, I can’t. There’s no erection. No evidence of pleasure. Only sadness plagues his features. His blue eyes shift from side to side as he takes Emme in. He nods once and leaves, his limp is gone, but misery weighs him down in a way I’ve never seen.
Emme watches him as if he will somehow return. When he doesn’t, she leaves without a word, passing Gemini as he enters with a stack of fresh towels.
“Hi,” he says, shutting the door.
I glance at the closed door briefly. “Hi,” I say.