Hellfire

Chapter Thirty-Four

I woke and felt terrible because of it. Every inch of me ached, my mind cotton and my throat was as dry as a desert. I still felt hot, it clung to me like film, but I was surrounded by heavenly cold, like my bed was made of ice.

I swivelled, instinctively seeking it, but the memory gradually bubbled to the surface when I felt the frame of a man surrounding me, a firm arm pillowing my cheek, the tips of my fingers touching taut muscles and frigid skin, and a broad firm chest meeting my gaze. I tilted my head, eyeing Lucius' languid face, his eyes swept closed, his breath even, his masculine neck lengthened and red raw from a healing burn. He was asleep.

My heart was flying instantly, my body tense with alarm, and my instant reaction was to get up and leave. I tried. I tensed myself up and made to rise, but a possessive arm was locked about my waist, immovable, and too strong without my fire. All I could do was lie there, so I did.

I blew at a strand of hair irritably and settled against him, deciding to nap to ride out the slight fear fluttering in my chest. Sleep never came though. It refused to come, my body so utterly focused on the man surrounding me, my throat aching from the memory of what he was capable of. I drifted my thoughts to my job instead. There was so much to do. Ella needed to be tracked and I needed to know how far Arnold managed to follow. I needed to see to Alistair, calm him and see how bad his sunburns were. I needed to help the Bullards clean the house, organise repairs and dispose of the bodies. I needed to see how hurt Doc was, whether the youngsters were okay. I needed to hunt a witch that moved weirdly and kill her before she went and told her superiors that I was a witch living under Vortigern's wing.

But, as I created this list in my head, I found myself peeking at Lucius. I was able to look at him at least. It didn't spin me into a spiral of terror and burning, instead I saw the hellfire burns clustered over him and it rang concern within me. I might as well check him over while I was here, I decided.

I shuffled closer to him and managed to get my trapped hands free. With a gentle touch, I reached for his face. Blood coated him, but it was very old now, crusted, so that was good. I noticed the hellfire burn along his neck was spreading up over his right ear, turning his skin red raw and blackened. I saw patches of sunburns too. They weren't bubbling though, pockets of puss gathering, and his body still felt full of physical strength, so clearly Lucius hadn't been in the sun long enough for infections or withering to start, but he was still burnt.

'Fucking idiot.' I told him under my breath as I touched his jaw, looking beneath the blood to see that cold, stern face I loved so fiercely and stupidly.

Just where had he been? How many hunters had he faced alone? The fact he turned up in this state told me he'd found a bunch, likely expecting him and armed to the teeth.

I slipped my touch down over his throat, finding only burns there, before drifting to his set shoulder. A hole was there from where a bullet had punched deep. I touched it, not liking the heat emanating from it, the black veins slipping outwards that glowed darkly against his white skin.

'Infected.' I breathed heatedly.

Again, expected. Witch-blood and silver was very damaging for immortals. Ply that with holy water and you'd have bullet not even vampires could easily heal from. That could kill them if it caught the heart or head.

I found another in the middle of his firm chest, two in his left breast, and another five along his stomach, and that didn't cover the hellfire burns left by the witch that blasted him close range. I felt myself bunching up at his skin marred, bloodied and wounded, my fire stirring with outrage. I set my jaw and struggled against my temper, but it was difficult. The last twenty-four hours had thinned out my patience.