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On a sob, she rose on her toes, pulled him down and kissed him. He picked her up with his arms around her back, lifted her so they were face-to-face, and kissed her back with raw ferocity.
“Is it over?” she asked when they pulled apart, and he set her down, though still holding on to her. “Did it really work?”
Her eyes having adjusted to the gloom, she made out how he glanced to the side, to where Selene had painted the sigil—where nothing but darkness remained.
“I saw it shatter,” Tallak said. “When Juneau died, when the circle exploded, the sigil sort of broke apart, and then it faded.”
Her exhale was sharp, her relief swift and crippling. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed on to him for purchase…her hands touching sticky wetness on his side.
“You’re hurt,” she gasped. Of course—the gunshot wound.
He’d barely shown any signs of pain during their frantic race to stop the spell, not even when he’d lugged Juneau over into the circle, but judging by the amount of blood she felt on his torso, the shot hadn’t just grazed him.
“Just a scratch,” he replied with typical male arrogance.
With a cluck of her tongue, her heart hammering in her chest, she batted his hands away and held hers over his wound, muttering a healing spell. A soft glow lit her palms, illuminating the darkness for the seconds during which she mended his injury. Then it faded, along with her magic.
She was well and truly spent now, not a spark of energy left in her. This time, when her legs gave out from under her, she didn’t have the strength to hold on to him.
He caught her, though, lifted her up with one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and held her fast to his chest, cradling her like the most precious treasure.
“My stuff,” she said weakly as he strode out of the arena. “The bodies.”
“Fuck that,” he growled. “Let someone else take care of that shit. I’m taking you home. You need rest.”
I need you.
She laid her hand on his chest, right where his heart beat, the drum of it a soothing rhythm against her palm.
“Tallak,” she whispered.
His fire-touched eyes met hers.
“I do.”
A line formed between his brows, visible in the silver moonlight as he stepped out of the building. “What, love?”
“Forgive you.”
That line, it smoothed out as his face softened. The utter relief, the glowing warmth in his eyes, was the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her mind.
CHAPTER 37
When Hazel blinked her eyes open, her mind just disentangling itself from the shadows of her dreams, it was to a soft semidarkness, an achingly familiar scent all around her—and a naked, well-sculpted male chest right in front of her nose.
Pulling back, she lifted her head to look up at Tallak, whose eyes glowed fiery amber in the low light of the room.
“There you are,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in the dark.
“Hey.” Her hand was on his face before she’d made the conscious decision to move it, her fingers tracing the lines of his nose, over his cheeks, down to his lips. The need to feel his warm skin, feel the pulse of life in him, was a driving force behind every beat of her heart.
He caught her hand, holding it as he kissed her fingertips with such reverence that it made her chest ache.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, nuzzling into her palm.
“Okay, I guess.” Her eyes adjusting to the gloom, she glanced around and realized— “This is your place. You brought me here?”
Raw emotion in the fire-licked depths of his eyes. “Your wards wouldn’t let me back in your house.”
