“The rage of the Beast Lord was a terrible thing to behold. Some people stormed, some punched things, but Curran slipped into this icy, bone-chilling calm. His face hardened into a flat mask, and his eyes turned into a molten inferno of pure gold. If you looked at it for longer than two seconds, your muscles locked, your knees shook, and you had to fight to keep from cringing. It was easier to look at the floor,but I didn’t. Besides, he wasn’t angry with me. He wasn’t even angry with Kate. He was angry with Anapa. I had no doubt that if he could’ve gotten a hold of the god at that moment, he would’ve broken him in half.“It’s only ribs,” Kate told him. “And they’re not even broken. They are fractured.”“And the hip,” Doolittle said. “And the knee.”There you go. Don’t expect mercy from a honeybadger.“How long do you need to keep her?” Curran looked to Doolittle.“She can go to her quarters, provided she doesn’t leave them,” Doolittle said. “I can’t do anything else with the magic down. She must stay down until I can patch her up.”“She will.” Curran reached for Kate. “Hey, baby. Ready?”She nodded. Curran slid his hands under her and picked her up, gently, as if she weighed nothing.“Good?” he asked.She put her arm around him. “Never better.”

“Curran and Kate stood by the door.“I can’t believe you decided to come down here and check on me,” she said.“The guy once handed you a fan and told you to fan yourself if the sight of his naked torso was too much.”“That was like a year ago. Will you let it go already?”“No.” Curran grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her. “Never.”She kissed him back and smiled.Awww. Kate and the Beast Lord sitting in a tree…”

“Vi, are you all right?” Jay asked, right beside her now, pulling her off the ground.Tears burned her eyes, and it wasn’t just from the painful sting radiating up through her hands and knees. Humiliation threatened to overcome the hurt.Jay hauled her up. She could smell his musky scent in his sweatshirt, and she tried to hold her breath against it. This was bad . . . this was a bad, bad place for her to be.“Are you hurt?” He pulled her away just enough so he could look down at her.She bit her lip, trying to will the tears away. She blinked and looked back at him. “I’m okay,” she responded, but her voice broke, making her words sound puny, pathetic even.He cringed as he bent down and looked at the angry red scrapes on both her knees. He reached out to lightly brush away some of the dirt from them, but she knew that he was afraid of hurting her, so he barely touched them. “We’d better get you back so we can clean those up.” He straightened, and then surprised her by picking her up as he started to carry her along the trail.She struggled against him. “I can walk!” she protested, feeling even more like a baby as he held her in his arms.He looked down at her in disbelief. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I think I just saw you trying, and it didn’t work out so well for you.” He didn’t seem inclined to let her down just yet; he just kept walking.She laughed but insisted again through her teary giggles, “Seriously, put me down! I feel stupid enough already—I don’t need you treating me like an invalid.”He slowed down unsurely before setting Violet on her own two feet. Internally she cursed herself for being so stubborn, and she wished that he’d put up more of a fight. Why couldn’t he have insisted on carrying her all the way home?Instead, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll keep ahold of you anyway. I don’t want to be responsible for letting you fall again.”

“Varian cringed as Merewyn faced him. If he looked half as bad as he suspected, he wouldn’thave blamed her had she run for the door. “You don’t have to do this.” She stepped into his arms. “Yes, Varian, I do.” She brushed the matted hair back from his face. “I don’t care what you look like. It’s you I love, not your looks. Your humor, your kindness, even that little snuffle snore you make when you sleep.” “I don’t snore.” She laughed. “Yes, you do.” And with that she pulled his lips to hers.”

“Jay insisted on carrying her up the back steps and into the kitchen, and this time Violet didn’t complain when he lifted her. He set her down gently on the kitchen counter, and then he rummaged through the cupboard while Violet told him where the Band-Aids were. He came with bandages, gauze, cotton balls, antibacterial wash, and two tubes of ointment. It seemed like overkill to Violet, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to see what he planned to do.“Okay, this is probably gonna sting,” he warned as he leaned over and began cleaning her wounds.It did sting, more than Violet let on, and she had to bite her lip as the tears came back all over again. But she let him keep working without even flinching, which was no small feat as he stripped away the layers of dirt from her skin.The wounds were big, and round, and raw. She thought she looked like a little kid with the giant scrapes on her knees, and she imagined that they were going to scab over and possibly even scar. She felt like such an idiot for falling over her own two clumsy feet.But Jay was gentle, and he took his time, being careful not to hurt her. She admired his patience and took perverse pleasure in his touch. He didn’t look up to see how she was doing; he just kept working until he was satisfied that her scrapes were cleaned out. And then he picked up the antibacterial wash and some cotton balls.Violet sucked in her breath when he brushed the soaked cotton ball against the angry red abrasions. Jay looked up at her but didn’t stop dabbing at them. Instead he blew on her knees as he labored over them, just like her mother used to do when Violet was a little girl. She thought it was sweet, and she swore that she was even more attracted to him than ever in that tender moment.When he finished with the wash, he gingerly patted an antibiotic ointment on her knees before covering them with bandages.“There,” he said, admiring his own handiwork. “Good as new.”Violent glanced at the ridiculously huge Band-Aids on her knees and looking at him doubtfully. “You really think so? ‘Good as new’?” He smiled. “I think I did pretty good. It’s not my fault you can’t walk.”

“And then she knew. No vision had ever terrified him. Never. In seventeen years. It was as if his own life were at stake. But he didn't See his own future. He only saw other's. She suddenly had a terrible feeling that she knew exactly whose future he'd Seen. Her voice was a whisper. "Do I get hurt?" His face contorted, but he didn't say anything. "Oh my god. Do I die?" He closed his eyes. "Oh." The air rushed out of her lungs on that one word. She was going to die. Luke's voice was tight, tortured when he said, "We gotta go." He bent down to pick up Sera's bag again, then headed out the door. Sera looked down at her feet. Their book bags lay there. She should probably pick those up, she thought. Luke was already on the porch, waiting. She reached down and grasped the bags, then woodenly stepped outside. Luke stared at her a moment, searching her face, then reached around her and locked the door. He started down the steps, but her voice stopped him. "Luke?" He turned to look at her. She was going to die. She knew she was going to die. But she couldn't stop herself from asking even though she already knew the answer. "Have you ever had a vision that didn't come true?" she said. "Ever?”