The Ultimate Reflective by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Author:Tamara Rose Blodgett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tamara Rose Blodgett LLC
Published: 2017-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

“Stop.”

Cyrn slows, shadows covering his face like the patches of a calico feline.

“We need to keep moving, Beth,” Gunnar says from behind them.

“Set my arm and maybe I'll cooperate. It's already starting to heal wrong.”

Gunnar comes round to the front of the two of them. Now that they've advanced two hours in the shadow line of the trees, Gunnar's skin has been mostly repaired by his body's own healing. “She's right, First.”

Cyrn frowns. “I can feed her my blood again.”

Beth's eyes travel his face. “But you don't want to,” she says softly.

“It is my duty to heal a female.” Cyrn's face closes down.

“Uh-huh,” Beth says, not as though she believes him but as if she is weary.

The pain. The pain makes her tired. Gunnar knows because he feels the same, though there is no broken arm for him to contend with.

“I believe, with the arm set, you will heal the break on your own, correct?” Gunnar asks gently, giving a sliding look of contempt at Cyrn while Beth is distracted examining her injury.

Cyrn carefully sets Beth down, returning Gunnar's expression. “There is a sacred magic to blood sharing,” Cyrn announces.

“I know of it,” Gunnar replies instantly—he is Bloodling, after all.

Beth looks between them, obviously dismissing the undercurrent, and commands, “Just do it before I lose my nerve.”

Gunnar kneels before her, and their identically colored eyes meet. “I am sorry to cause you pain.” He brushes a finger from her temple to her jaw. “And you will never lose your nerve, my blooded daughter.”

Their eyes lock, and Beth gives the barest nod.

Gunnar removes one of the thickest hair bindings he has from a small sack. It’s tightly hooked to a belt that keeps his pants secure and his weapons tight against his body.

The piece of rawhide is wide as a blade. Generally, he uses it only for battle, like a cup against the base of his skull, when too much hair is nothing more than a handle for an enemy.

Beth opens her lips, and he seats the thick strip between her teeth. She bites down, her black eyes too wide in her pale face.

They don't look at Cyrn but only at him.

Gunnar takes the small limb in both hands and applies expert pressure. He's tended to many a break in his time.

Never on a female. Never would he imagine he would on his own blood.

Beth screams through the leather as Gunnar rebreaks her arm. Her eyes flutter closed, her body falling limp.

“Do you have extra material?” Gunnar asks Cyrn without bothering to look at the other male.

Cyrn hands Gunnar a strip of cloth, and with a few expert wraps, tugs, and a final knot at the shoulder, Gunnar has secured the limb in a binding to keep the arm stable.

Standing, he turns to Cyrn.

Cyrn’s expression is full of pain. “If I share blood two more times, the female will be mine, regardless of my thoughts—choice.”

Gunnar growls low in his throat, grabbing the front of Cyrn's travel-beaten tunic and drawing him to within centimeters of his nose.

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