She bent to retrieve her blade and stumbled to the side again. “Are you okay?” he asked. Juliana didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge he had spoken. Instead, she was examining a dark smudge on the ground. “Juliana? Joya?” This wasn’t just her ignoring him, something was wrong.
The elemental called for a portal with the earpiece. “What’s wrong with her?”
Thomas shook his head and headed across the floor toward her. She turned as if sensing his approach. That was when he noticed the thin line of blood running from her ear. He reached out and wiped it away with his fingertips. Holding out his hand, he showed her the smear. She shrugged. His mate had obviously shattered her eardrums and she was shrugging. Gods grant him patience.
“Did you get the other one?” she asked at a volume just short of yelling.
No, he hadn’t. The damn thing had eluded him. Its single-minded fascination on escaping him to get to Juliana disturbed him. It had tried several times during the course of their battle. Of course, after he ripped one of its arms off, it had lost interest in her and focused on surviving. It took off in the opposite direction and he went after Juliana.
Given the fact that she most likely couldn’t hear any of that even if he was to explain it, he just shook his head. The portal opened and Thomas took her arm. She twisted out of his grip. Cursed woman. Fine. Let her fall on the wet cement and broken glass.
Three men came through the portal to assist with the wolf. Once they were cleared away Thomas and his bride moved to follow. When he was certain she wasn’t watching, he placed his fingers in his mouth. The exquisite nectar of her blood coated his tongue, entered his system, throbbed through his veins. It fed the blood magic that sustained all of his kind. It thrummed within him, making him stronger. One drop of her blood was like a liter of anyone else’s. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation.
“Gods, Thomas, get a move on,” his mate yelled and grabbed the front of his shirt to haul him through the portal.
Chapter Thirteen
Juliana sat on one of the beds in the infirmary, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her head hurt so bad it made her teeth ache. One of the medics kept running disinfectant over the wounds on her back. If there were any germs left in there, they’d earned the right to stay at this point. Thomas, Jeremiah and Ben carried on a conversation of which she was not a part because she couldn’t hear a cursed thing they said. It was getting old and she was getting paranoid.
Doc was giving Nathaniel a complete workup on the other side of the room. He hadn’t woken up yet. She let the scrubs top she’d been holding up for the medic fall and hopped off the table. He must have protested because the men turned to frown at her. She grabbed Thomas’s arm and dragged him into a small room off to the side, slamming the door behind them.
She let go of his arm and moved farther into the room to put some space between them. “I can’t stand not being able to hear. It’s driving me nuts. I’m not yelling am I?”
He shook his head and stepped toward her.
“How long till I can hear?” she asked.
He held up two fingers, then three.
“Two or three hours?” That wasn’t so bad. She could handle a few hours. Maybe.
Thomas put a finger under her chin and lifted it so she focused on him. He shook his head.
It took her a moment to get what he was telling her. She gaped at him. “Two or three days?”
He put a finger to his lips and glanced at the door. She knew she’d been yelling. She thought she was entitled. There was no way she could go that long without her ears working. A high-level demon still lurked out there somewhere. Not to mention Raoul. She needed everything functioning the way it was supposed to if she was going to make it through this alive. She ran a hand through her hair.
“Fix it.” It was more a question than a statement. She’d beg if she had to.
His brow furrowed and he frowned, confused.
“Give me some blood. Just enough to fix it,” she pleaded. He started to shake his head but stopped when she added, “Please?”
After a moment of studying her, he walked to the door. Tears welled in her eyes and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to ask this man for anything, let alone beg. Yet here she was doing just that and he ignored the sacrifice.
He flipped the lock on the door and turned back to her. Her pulse sped in anticipation when she realized he wasn’t abandoning her again. She swiped a hand across her eyes, removing any trace of tears. Putting his hands on her waist, Thomas lifted her to sit on the counter that ran around the edge of the room. She closed her eyes and savored the contact.
His warmth seeped into her skin, penetrating to the very core of her. She’d missed that more than anything else about him. The way he made her feel protected, the way he took care of her. She wanted to wrap herself in him and never leave the embrace of his arms. There were times like this when she was so utterly tired of being strong, of pretending that she could handle the world on her own that she became tempted to let him rescue her. He was the only one that ever cared enough to take care of her. That’s why it broke her heart when he left.
He laid a hand against her cheek and she looked at him. There was a question in his eyes and she shook her head. He didn’t need to know that she was feeling sorry for herself. After a moment more, he took a step back and pulled out a pocketknife. He opened it and handed it to her hilt first.
Seriously? He wanted her to cut him to get the blood? Nope, wasn’t going to happen. “Can’t you just put it in a glass like Tony does?”
Thomas’s features sharpened in anger and his eyes darkened. Grabbing her chin in his hand, he turned her head to the side. He leaned in and sniffed along the side of her neck. Her pulse sped and her breath hitched but it wasn’t from fear.
His tongue flicked out to taste her skin. A tremble wracked her body. Their eyes locked. Heat flashed in his, a mirror of her own desire. At least she wasn’t the only one affected.
He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment then stepped back to pull his T-shirt off. Taut muscles worked with the motion. Only with great effort did she manage to keep her mouth from falling open. He was perfect, just like she remembered. Just like she dreamed.
Closing the distance between them, he wrapped her hand in his. Before she could think about stopping him, he ran the knife across his chest. Blood welled in the two-inch wound. His free hand pulled her head toward the wound. She wrinkled her nose then told herself to stop being ridiculous. Her tongue lapped the blood from his skin. A shudder cascaded through him.
This was too much, too intimate. When she tried to pull away, he held her head tighter. She knew what he wanted. Truth was, she wanted it, too. With a sigh of surrender, she laid her mouth against the wound and sucked, pulling the blood directly from his body. A ripple of lust ran through her with the sensual act. As angry and frustrated as he made her on a regular basis, she still loved him. Would always love him. Would always crave this intimacy with him.
She ran her hand up the length of his back, relishing the play of muscles beneath the skin. He released her other hand and the knife clattered to the floor. She laid her hand against his chest, anxious to feel more of him, to touch as much of him as she could. He ran both hands through her hair in a feather-light caress then dug his fingers into her scalp, massaging it.