Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) Painter, Kristen (historical books to read txt) 📖

Before he was close enough to set Chrysabelle down, the wysper signed something and ran into a different part of the suite. He maneuvered Chrysabelle off his shoulder and onto the bed, keeping her on her stomach. She whimpered as he broke contact, so he took her hand. Her eyes flickered open, but they seemed unfocused.

‘Shhh, it’s all right now. You’re home.’

‘Hmmm.’ Her eyes closed, apparently satisfied.

Velimai returned, towels draped over her shoulder, a basin of steaming water in her hands and a pair of scissors dangling off one finger.

‘Good.’ Mal sighed. ‘I guess I should go downstairs and let you clean her up. Creek will be here soon with his grandmother. She’s a healer.’

Velimai shook her head and held out the basin, nodding like he should take it.

‘You want me to help?’ He took the basin and set it on the nightstand.

Velimai put the scissors and the towels on the bed, then clapped her hands and pointed at his arm.

He held it toward her. ‘What about my—’

She swiped her fingers across the palm of his hand. Trails of blood welled up, then faded as his skin healed. She picked up the scissors, handed them to him, and gestured at Chrysabelle.

He’d had no idea wysper skin was so abrasive. ‘You need me to do it.’

She nodded, frowning as her gaze drifted to the unconscious comarré.

‘She’ll be okay.’ He hoped. ‘Scarred maybe, but okay.’ Scars that would be a permanent reminder of what he’d cost her.

With Velimai watching, he cut Chrysabelle’s blood-soaked gown off and began the arduous process of cleaning her wounds without hurting her further. She cried out weakly a few times but never fully woke up. At last, he’d cleaned as much of the blood as he could. He covered her to the waist with the sheet, then pulled a chair to the bedside and sat, waiting. Velimai did the same on the other side. They sat in silence, watching Chrysabelle. He was sure the wysper had as little idea about what else to do as he did.

The ticking of the clock on the nightstand filled the room.

From downstairs, a voice called out, ‘Hello?’

Mal started. ‘That’s Creek. Velimai, will you—’

The wysper was already out the door. A minute later, she was back with Creek and his grandmother.

‘Any change?’ Creek asked.

‘No.’ Mal’s gaze went to the woman beside the KM. Hanks of brightly colored beads surrounded her neck. A loose bun held back her gray hair, and behind thick glasses, her dark eyes watched him intently without a trace of fear or judgment.

Creek took the hint. ‘This is my grandmother, Rosa Mae Jumper. She’s a healer from the Seminole nation.’

‘You can help her?’ Mal asked the woman.

She tilted her head back like she couldn’t see all of him. ‘You live in shadow, dark one.’ She walked past him to the bed and held her hands over Chrysabelle. ‘This one is full of light. Too much light. She is unbalanced.’

‘Can you help her or not? All this mumbo jumbo does nothing—’

‘Watch your tone, vampire.’ Creek rested a hand on his grandmother’s shoulder. ‘Mawmaw, what do we need to do to help her?’

She gave him a look that made him remove his hand, then turned back to Mal. ‘Peace, dark one. I am here to heal, but I cannot do it alone.’

He leaned in. ‘What do you need? Just tell me.’

‘It isn’t what I need. It’s what she needs. Blood. Yours.’ Her eyes were unblinking. ‘Are you willing?’

He straightened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your blood can balance the light in her. Your darkness can give her reason to fight. The strength of your blood will heal her wounds and give her a chance to live.’

He took a step toward her. She didn’t move. ‘In English.’

She removed her glasses and cleaned them with the edge of her blouse. ‘Cut yourself. Fill her wounds with your blood. Is that clear enough, blood eater?’

Velimai hissed. Mal backed away, shaking his head. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking.’

She put her glasses back on. ‘Yes, I do.’

Sharing blood with Chrysabelle could change her. She was comarré, she already bore certain characteristics given to her by the presence of vampire saliva in her system. What would blood do to her? He was afraid of the answer.

Creek approached. ‘Are you sure this is safe, Mawmaw?’ Nothing about his demeanor said he thought the old woman’s proposal was a good one. ‘She’s a daughter of light. Putting his blood into her … ’ He scowled.

She sighed. ‘You asked me to help, Thomas. I can only offer what the spirits bring me.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Creek said.

‘You think I do?’ Mal asked.

Rosa Mae walked toward the door. ‘She’s fading, isn’t she? Listen.’

Mal stilled, doing as the woman suggested. Chrysabelle’s pulse was weaker, her heartbeat sluggish. Tired. ‘If this goes poorly, if something happens to her—’

Creek nodded. ‘We both take the blame. We both protect her.’

Mal sighed. Reluctantly, he lifted his wrist to his mouth, tore his fangs across his skin. Blood dripped down his arm. He held it over the first gouge along her spine until the bleeding stopped and he had to open his flesh again. He repeated the process until his blood filled both of the raw grooves in her back.

She shivered as his blood seeped into her body. Her pulse strengthened. The edges of her wounds began to pull together.

‘She will heal,’ Rosa Mae announced.

‘Yes,’ Mal answered. ‘But will she still be herself when she wakes up?’

‘She will be who she is meant to be,’ Rosa Mae said. ‘Take me home, Thomas. Give the blood eater some peace.’

‘I’ll be back,’ Creek said as he escorted her out.

Mal slumped into the chair and settled in to wait for Chrysabelle to wake up. Peace? Not hardly. Never in his life had he had such a bad feeling about something.

He hoped Chrysabelle made it through this unaffected and proved him wrong, but if she didn’t … if he’d turned her … He dropped his head into his hands. She balanced