Repairer of the Breach (Stones of Fire Book 4) by Sarah Ashwood (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

anymore. I was in a strange place and, if Carter died, would be totally alone. I wasn’t much of a nature girl or a survivalist. I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if I had to try and make it on my own out here. Not to mention, I had no idea where to get help, or if I were even physically capable of searching for it. I hadn’t tried to stand yet, but my legs had that heavy, numb feeling of limbs that had fallen asleep.

Maybe that’s all it is, I reassured myself. I’ve been laying here so long my legs are asleep. There can’t be anything wrong with me. There wasn’t before I fell through the portal.

True. Not like Carter, who’d surrendered his life’s blood—the Talos’ blood—in order to save me. Which meant it was now my turn to protect him.

My medical training kicked in.

He’d been bleeding before our journey. Was he still? If so, I needed to stanch the flow if he was going to survive.

I pushed myself back up on my knees, willing my legs to move. I crawled one pace, two, three until I was down by my husband’s legs where I could bend over and see his feet, his ankles.

My heart sank.

Dark blue liquid seeped from the self-inflicted slash above his ankle, staining the sand beneath his bronze heel. There wasn’t a large pool, and it looked to me like the cold and inertia had helped reduce the flow, but who knew how much blood he’d actually lost back there on the country club grounds, in the circle of shifters? Who knew how much he could afford to lose? This wasn’t normal human blood. This was magical blood from a unique, powerful shifter.

Nothing in my nurse’s training had prepared me for dealing with magic and ichor—the supposed blood of the gods—or for trying to stanch blood on a bronze body. Nevertheless, my nurse’s training was all that I had. I still wore the gown Mrs. Costas had purchased for me, but me lying on the sand had left it damp and covered with grit. I was afraid to put it against Carter’s wound due to the risk of infection. I doubted antibiotics would be available if he did get infected. As it happened, my bra was the cleanest thing on me, so I reached back and unzipped the dress enough to slide it off my shoulders. After removing my bra, I twisted my arms awkwardly to refasten the dress, then folded the bra, placing it over the open wound, using its straps to bind it to Carter’s bronze flesh as best I could.

Would it work? I swiped damp hair off my forehead with the back of my wrist, studying him worriedly.

This isn’t good enough. It might stop the bleeding, but what if he’s already bled too much? What if it’s already infected? I need some type of antiseptic. I need bandages. I need to keep him warm. Or does a bronze man have to be warm? Can a bronze man get an infection? What if I’m doing this all wrong?

Tears flooded my eyes. I was cold and lost and terrified, both for Carter and myself. I felt like I was at the end of my rope. I was weak. I admit it. For a few seconds I sat there and cried, grasping one of the Talos’ cold, bronze hands in both of mine.

“I don’t know what to do,” I begged through the tears. “I don’t know what to do. Please wake up, Carter. Please wake up. Help me out here. Help me know what to do to save you.”

Nothing. He might as well have been a genuine, inanimate bronze statue for all the response I got.

Desperation deepened, but I knew I couldn’t sit here crying and not do anything to help us. Wiping away my tears, I gave Carter’s heavy hand a final squeeze I doubted he could feel and pushed myself up to standing. Dizzy, I swayed, clapping a hand to my face, shutting out dim light and the unfamiliar world around me. After a couple of deep breaths the sensations subsided and I was able to think more or less clearly again.

“Okay. Help. Got to get help,” I whispered aloud, encouraging myself. “Nothing to do but search around, find it.”

I hated leaving Carter, not knowing if he’d even be alive by the time I returned. There was also the question of who or what I might run into while searching, or who might stumble across him while I was gone. Friend, foe? Ordinarily, I wouldn’t do it, but I’d simply run out of options. I couldn’t drag Carter anywhere, especially in his altered form. He was too heavy. I didn’t have a coat or sweater or even my light wrap from last night to drape over him. I could’ve taken off my dress and gone three-quarters naked, but that wasn’t going to do either of us any good, I thought wryly.

Before walking away, I knelt next to Carter, saying into his ear, “Honey, if you can hear me, I’m going to go find help. I’ll be back. Hang on, Carter. Hang on for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Naturally, I had no idea if I could keep either of those promises—to find help or to return—but it was do it or die trying.

Chapter Two

I left my designer heels on the beach next to my husband, figuring they’d be more of an impediment than a help at this point. Once I was off the sand and in the grass I regretted it. The grass was prickly and tough; not exactly easy to tramp through. The fog refused to yield, but I hadn’t struggled through the grass very long before dark shapes loomed before me. I pressed towards them despite my reservations. Quickly, they solidified in the weaving grey mist, and I could see they were trees.

Beyond the beach, a forest soared. The ground beneath the thick, overhead boughs was damp with a carpet