Lethe's Kiss (Ari & Soren Book 3)

Chapter 3 - Ari

For a fraction of a moment, I floated, suspended in the air. I saw Volkir reach for me and heard him shout my name, and then I fell.

It should only have taken a few seconds for me to reach the floor, but time is different when you're about to die—or at the very least, sustain serious injuries—and it felt like I tumbled a mile through the air.

Even so, I knew I didn't have time for real magic, but I reached for it by instinct anyway, drawing on my own reserves and on whatever ambient energies might be nearby. I tried to imagine something catching me—a cushion of air, maybe—and then I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for either oblivion or pain.

It was not air that caught me, though, but Volkir.

His body collided with mine, his arms snapping me into a crushing embrace with a force that stunned me and knocked the breath from my lungs. A split-second later he landed, the impact jolting me, but causing me far less harm than the unforgiving stone would have done.

Then he knelt, loosening his grasp so he could look at me, worry etched in every line of his face.

"Dear gods, boy, are you hurt? Speak!"

My lungs hadn't quite unlocked yet, and I couldn't move. His eyes flicked between mine, and then I felt his hands on me, searching for injury. A moment ago I'd never seen him so angry, and now I'd never seen him so scared.

"Oh, Great Odin, what have I done?" he gasped, as dramatic as ever, and if I wasn't currently paralyzed I'd have rolled my eyes. "Speak, my dear, I beg you! Tell me, are you hurt?

Finally, and to my great relief, my brain managed to reconnect to the rest of my body, and I drew a shuddering gasp. After a few such desperate inhalations, my breath settled into a steadier rhythm, and I took stock.

I was not hurt. Not badly, anyway. I'd have some bruises, no doubt, but I was not in serious pain, and at last, I was able to speak.

"I'm okay," I said. "I'm fine."

Volkir continued to study me with intense anxiety. "You are not injured?" he asked, his one hand supporting my head at the back of my neck and the other resting on my chest.

"No, I'm okay," I said again.

His eyes widened slightly, and then he crushed me to him with enough force that I was again in danger of not being able to breathe. "Oh, thank fuck," he gasped.

I'd never heard Volkir swear before. He must have been truly shaken.

As he held me, I realized I was trembling with adrenaline and with the aftermath of fear, and that my heart still ran a wild race in my chest. I made a conscious, if feeble, effort to slow its pace, and then felt Volkir's vampiric power flood me as he calmed us both.

His energy and mine had never mixed well—resulting in a feeling that was both slightly enjoyable and uncomfortably violating, and which I didn't like at all—but I was happy enough to accept it now.

When at last my heart beat at a reasonable pace and I'd stopped shaking quite so much, he took a deep breath, loosened his grip, held me away from him and shook me lightly by the shoulders.

"Aristotle Lorenfield," he said gravely, his eyes fixed on mine, "what on earth were you thinking, to come down here alone?"

"I—"

Before I could answer, a loud bang sounded from above, but it wasn't whatever was in the safe-room this time. I looked up and saw Soren leaning over the rail, looking down at us with an expression of shock and horror. Then he launched himself into the air, plummeting to the floor and landing like a cat.