Sofia’s head snapped up.
“But…” Hunter cursed under his breath. “…that is his story to tell, and believe me, he’ll be cross if I’m the one to explain it. Simply stay by his bedside. Don’t they say true love’s kiss cures all that ails us?”
The doctor let out a soft chuckle and finished sewing Ash’s wound while Sofia pulled a chair to his bedside.
Three hours later, and his condition still hadn’t changed. A fever had set in, causing him to thrash about. One minute the man was speaking French, then Russian, only to fall back into Spanish, and then some other language she wasn’t able to identify.
“Ash.” She draped a cold cloth on his forehead. “Ash, you must stay with me. You must fight.”
Words were useless. If he could not hear her, what was the point?
Feeling silly but desperate, she took one glance at his lips and leaned in, touching hers to his in a soft brush and then harder. Perhaps if he could not hear her, he could at least feel her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
There was darkness — and then light, as blinding as winter’s snow… and then there was a kiss, a searing kiss. —The Grimm Reaper
ASH WAS FALLING, CATAPULTING toward the fires of hell. It seemed that every moment he started to feel relief across his body, it was stolen again by the flames.
He was dying or already dead — he wasn’t sure which — but he was certain things were not good. Fire was never a good sign, after all.
And then, just when hope seemed lost, something cold touched his lips. It was so deliciously cold, like eating an ice in the middle of summer, or lying down in a pile of snow. He clung to the cold, worshipped it. He made promises to it.
The ice was so much better than the fire. He imagined his lips sucking in the ice and blowing it across the flames.
It seemed to be working because the more he focused in on the cold touching his lips, the better his body felt, until suddenly the flames simply stopped.
And he realized, with certainty, that he was not dead.
He was very much alive.
And he was being kissed — not by snow, though it had once been his nickname for her. Snow White… he was being kissed by the princess, by his love, and through her kiss she was saving his life, giving of her own? Greedily he took and he took, until finally he felt the pain leave and in its place…
Peace.
“Snow…” he whispered. “White.”
“Ash?” Her voice was as soft as a snowflake touching his face. “Ash, are you awake?”
“More.” His voice was hoarse, dry to the bone. “More snow!”
“Snow?” she asked.
“More snow!” He licked his lips.
And then he felt her again, her lips cool, water trickling into his mouth, for she was not simply kissing him, but aiding him in drinking water.
He felt each drop as it flooded through his system, putting out the fire, dissipating the pain.
“Open your eyes,” she urged.
“Open them for me.” Opening them himself seemed too great an effort.
“How about this?” Her breath was cool on his cheek. “Open your eyes, and I’ll give you more.”
“More?” He squeezed his eyes tighter.
“Mmm.” Her cold nose nipped his neck, and then her teeth were pulling at his ear, and it was bliss. He damn well better not be dead and forced to live in that very same position while her lips assaulted him. Then again, he wasn’t complaining if that was his future, but he wanted to open his eyes, damn it!
“Ash…” Her lips teased his cheek. “Open your eyes.”
He forced one eye open and then both. The room was one large blur and then movement to his left. He blinked a few times, swirls of color danced in front of his eyes. He held his breath willing them to part so he could focus on something—anything other than the pain. A movement from his left had him concentrating on the air in front of him, slowly, it cleared, forming a shape. Full crimson lips, curing gently upward into a breathtaking smile was the first thing his eyes beheld, and by God if it were to be his last, it would be enough. Beautiful, like a shining beacon they beckoned him, called out to him. He needed to touch her face, to see that she was real, that he was alive. With an arm that felt heavier than sand, he reached for her, grunting with effort, somehow managing to push back more of the colors that threatened to blind his vision. He almost made it to her lips, to her face, but his arm fell lamely by his side.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “Am I dead, then?”
“Am I only beautiful if you die?” Sofia countered.
“I imagine this is a trick question, where if I answer badly, I’ll not be on the receiving end of the more that was promised me.”
Sofia smiled, a brilliant smile, one that lit up the room — lit up his dark world and caused a slow crackling fire to burn in his soul. “God…” He choked. “I love you.”
Sofia’s breath hitched.
Yes, apparently he had voiced that thought, and quite bluntly, if the look of pure joy on her face was any indication.
Sofia launched herself onto his body.
“Ouch!” He heaved beneath her. Sight as she was, in his current state, she might as well be a coach horse. He frowned, best to keep that thought to himself lest he find himself injured again.
“Oh no!” Sofia pulled back. “My apologies I forgot and—”
“I’ll trade pain for pleasure any day, my love.” He tugged her with as much might as he could. Her face touched his, and their lips met.
“I truly am dead, for how could a woman this beautiful—” The word lodged in his throat. “—stay by my side, pulling me back from the dark pits? In what world is it fair that the most beautiful princess — be mine?”
Sofia kissed him harder on the mouth. “In what world is it fair that a man should punish himself for crimes he did not commit, for things not his fault?”
“It seems Hunter’s been quite chatty, then?”
“Not Hunter.” She sighed against his chest. “Pierce.”
Of course. “Bloody nuisance, he is.”
“He told me about her… about what happened so long ago.”
Ash sighed; the last thing he wanted to speak of was his greatest sin, his greatest error. “I was working for the Crown… and from far away — especially in our younger days — Hunter and I were near impossible to tell apart.”
“And she thought you were he?”