Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (72 page)

“
Tyr DeadBlood.” She didn’t need to picture the man she loved, because he stood before her. She didn’t need to imagine what he meant to her as his eyes misted over.

The knife’s path across her skin didn’t even hurt this time. The tingle was nearly sensual. Too quickly, the blood dripped from her vein, filling the vial. Tyr fitted the stopper.

At first, Sal was surprised that he didn’t bind the wrist wound, then he brought her hand up to his lips. Tenderly, he kissed her flesh. She’d never felt such a rush of desire before. If it weren’t for his burns and the conflagration outside, she would have broken every vow to Richard that she’d ever spoken.

Just as quickly, his lips pulled away from the wound that was already healed. The effect on her pulse didn’t abate so quickly. It became hard to follow his words.

“
Do you understand the fire’s font?” he said, then slumped.

Sal caught him. His weight pressed against her.

“
I’m sorry?”

Tyr’s teeth were nearly clenched shut. “What intent did you infuse into your edict?”

She already knew where he was going with his inquiry. That rush when “ignite” came off her lips told her she’d stepped over some invisible line into descent. There had been hints of it before, but it had felt like the blaze had flowed first through her veins before it set fire to the gel.

“
How much I feared and hated the beast,” Sal said in an almost girl-like tone. How could she have been so stupid? Pouring such negative emotion into such a volatile substance.

“
But not even I hate him that much.” Sal indicated toward the small window, which showed a whipping wildfire.

His teeth were clenched. “Think to the place’s intent. What sort of men sweat against these walls?”

Oh, no. Alcatraz was a prison. A cruel, maximum-security prison, where the worst of the worst were housed. And if only a tenth of the stories were true, the worst guards. Her fear and hatred might have sparked the fire, but the prison itself, with its decades-worth of rape and torture was its fuel.

A nearly endless font of pain.

Knowing what fueled the fire didn’t help her fight the fire, though. They needed to get the hell out of there.

“
Can you make it downstairs?” she asked.

The fire licked under the doorway, sweeping the floor, looking for a new victim. Tyr didn’t bother to waste energy on an answer. They either made it downstairs, or they were dead.

“
You must purge your heart of the beast. You must—”

“
I got it,” she said, helping him toward the door.

“
No, you do not.” He found her eyes. “Not only must you feel no hatred or even fear, you must hold only that intent which filled the vial.”

She searched his features and found that he wasn’t exaggerating.

Tyr held the tiny crystal container in his hand. “To feel anything less will spell our end.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 96

“
But, hey, not too much pressure,” Sal commented.

Tyr’s eyebrow went up.

“
Never mind. I can do it.”

“
It is far, and—”

Sal put his arm over her shoulder, taking the bulk of his weight off his injured leg. “I
will
do it.”

He still didn’t look completely convinced, but let her open the door.

The fire roared into the room as they used the door as a screen. As the metal burnished orange, Tyr dashed the blood onto them.

“
Protect!”

As if the inferno could sense their presence, flames licked around the door, tumbling over itself to claim them, then the blast hit their Praxis shield.

With Tyr pressed so closely to her, it wasn’t difficult to project love.

Whatever the fear stirred up by this cauldron of fire, it could wait until later.

They took to the hall, walking through what should have been a wall of flame, only they traveled unscathed. Sal could feel the blasting heat all around her, yet her skin wasn’t scorched.

Frustrated, the fire roiled around them, trying to find a way past Tyr’s blood shield. Licks of flame danced at their feet, hoping to trip them. Despite the primordial terror that gripped her belly, Sal took care to project only a calm, loving demeanor. Tendrils of fire snaked into any tiny crack between their bodies, yet she held fast.

Their lives depended on it.

Tyr’s leg nearly gave out on the stairs, slowing their progress. The conflagration seemed to sense his weakness. The fire pressed in closer, mocking her efforts.

Sal began to sweat. Not so much from the mystical flame, but from the effort of supporting Tyr. They had barely made it down one flight of stairs, how were they going to climb down another?

Worse, when she reached out to open the door to the next stairwell, it was locked.

“
Open!” but the damn thing was metal. Even Tyr tried, but in his weakened state, the door refused to budge.

She looked down the long, enflamed hallway. It was so long. And so enflamed. Sal silently sought Tyr’s advice. Tight-lipped, he nodded. It was also their only choice. She helped him hobble down the lengthy passage. Sal tried to ignore the hideous sights as they passed by the torture chambers. The waxen figures melted where they stood. The manufactured horror had become real. Eyes liquefied, running down dripping cheeks. Bodies molded with their torture devices, becoming one.

If they didn’t get the hell out of there soon, very, very soon, that would be them, melting into the concrete.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 97

Finally, they were to the far stairwell. Tyr more slipped down the steps than walked, but they made it to the first floor.

A pop within the fire sent a small ember into the air that struck her cheek. It burned for a millisecond, then disappeared. But the flame, in only this small way, had gotten through. Emboldened, the air warped around them as the temperature skyrocketed.

It might not be able to roast them, but the fire could consume the oxygen they needed to breathe. Her lungs complained as the air became thin.

Ignoring her brain’s frantic call for oxygen, Sal thought of her most powerful memories of Tyr. The first time he had ever touched, but not touched her. On the bank of the lake when he struggled to ask for her help. Him sailing over her on horseback, knocking that bastard Crusader on his ass.

Yet the fire was winning. Had she failed yet again?

Then she realized it was not her failing, but Tyr. His head had slumped against her shoulder. He was barely conscious. Without his skill to bind her intent to the blood, their protection was waning. Waning rapidly.

There was no way they could make it all the way to the exit, as another ember landed on her skirt, smoldering a hole down to her knee.

Wait. The main entrance wasn’t the only way out. Sal searched the walls. Sure enough, a charcoaled sign announced the “Inter-facility Tunnel System.” Hauling Tyr’s near-dead weight, she reached for the handle.

The fire knew her intent and heated the metal until it glowed red-hot.

Not allowing anger to get the best of her, she thought of adorable little puppies, a newborn baby, and ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream. The knob under her palm cooled, if but a fraction.

Sal knew the knob was metal. She knew that the tension strength of the material was far higher than she should ever hope to control, but the flames were not content with just licking at them any longer. They flared and sparked, eager to have their revenge.

Asking not for herself, or for her life, but for Tyr, Sal breathed the word softly, carefully, kindly, “Open.”

With no resistance whatsoever, the metal turned under her hand. Any calm she felt evaporated as she dragged Tyr’s heavy frame through the door.

They tumbled down the damp stairs, fire on their tail. Sal let Tyr fall to the floor. She could carry him no farther.

“
Back,” Sal commanded, her panic barely contained.

The air crackled its aggravation. Sparks danced before her, trying to breach that last thin layer of protection. Damn it. She couldn’t use fear or anger. Those emotions only fueled the fire she had begun. Unfortunately those were the only emotions she had left.

The flames encircled her, whipping around her. Testing the magic.

Was desperation a viable emotion?

“
Please,” she begged, tears dripping from her eyelashes. “Leave us.”

It seemed as if the wind changed, despite the fact there wasn’t any breeze in the underground tunnel. The inferno rolled back upon itself, climbing the stairs. Knowing that fire was nothing but fickle, Sal charged after it and slammed the door shut.

As if just made aware that its revenge was thwarted, she felt the flames blast against the door. The metal heated, but held.

Sal rushed to Tyr’s side. His face was ashen and his skin pasty. She checked his pulse. It raced like a hummingbird’s.

Severe shock. Life-threatening shock.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 98

Sal pulled Tyr’s coat away from his right side. His flesh had become nothing more than a molten smear of pink. As gently as she could, Sal probed the tip of the wound.

Tyr roused. At least that meant the area still had functional nerve endings. It also looked like there was a good blood supply. Some fluids, antibiotics, and debridement of the damaged tissue, and they wouldn’t need HeartsBlood to heal him.

“
Fret no more,” he said feebly.

She pushed away the hand that tried to keep her from examining the lower section of the burn. His pants had melted onto his leg. Leather and skin had become one. The smell of charred flesh threatened to upend her stomach. Sal refused to vomit. She’d seen bad burns before. She’d treated horrible burns before.

But as she picked away the flakes of burnt clothes, she found something she’d never seen before. Beneath the layer of scorched leather, she could find no flesh. Sal took off three layers of char only to find more layers of char.

This wasn’t a second-degree or even a third-degree burn. It was a tenth degree burn. It was like the time she’d forgotten a steak in the broiler for over an hour. The meat had gone from well done to burnt to charcoal. Just like Tyr’s flesh.

Horrified, Sal looked up, but he seemed to already know the extent of the damage.

“
There is a last prayer of my people …”

“
No!” she exclaimed. “No,” she said again, this time more measured.

Sal refused to give up. His heart was still beating.

But inside, she cringed. While that was her normal mantra, there was one condition where she had to counsel her students not to hold out hope.

Extensive third-degree burns.

The body simply couldn’t cope with that much damage. While medicine had advanced greatly over the centuries, burns still exceeded their ability to heal. And these burns?

“
No,” she moaned, tears spilling over, falling on the charred tissue.

Tyr reached a hand out and wiped her cheek. “Even a witch of your skill could heal not a blaze of intent.”

Sal hung her head. It had been her hatred that would kill him.

“
Before …” Tyr had to stop and lick his lips before he continued. “Before the pain becomes too great, let me teach you the prayer. It must be spoken at the moment of my parting.”

His words washed over her, but Sal didn’t really hear them. She was still immersed in her grief.

“
If intent caused the injuries,” Sal spoke her thought process out loud, “could intent not heal them?”

Tyr shook his head. “Without HeartsBlood, I am done.”

“
Damn it! Why did you use the last of it on me?”

He cradled her cheek in his hand. “It would not have been enough. Please allow me to teach you—”

“
No,” she said forcefully, pulling his hand away. “Think. If we just need more HeartsBlood, let’s figure out how to get more HeartsBlood.”

“
The heart holds its blood dear. Only one highly skilled in the art of drawing may attempt such a feat, and even then … many do not survive.”

Of course they didn’t. No matter how tough the heart seemed, it was actually quite a fragile organ. The heart was a tissue like any other in the body. It needed oxygen and nutrients to fuel its constant pumping. And since it worked harder than any other organ in the body, it was highly sensitive to any interruption in its circulation. Although bathed in the blood that it pumped through the body, the muscle took no nutrients from it.

As any heart attack victim soon realized, the organ had its own set of blood vessels that fed the pump. Something as tiny as cholesterol plaques could block the oxygen supply to the muscle, and once that happened, the tissue died and the pump that kept the rest of the body alive stopped. Now imagine sticking a needle into that frail organ. It didn’t mind you drawing blood from its chambers, but lancing one of its vital blood vessels?