“Bishop King, please—”
“Make haste, woman!”
His head lowered to the grass, the sky turned above him in a haze of agony as the Bishop’s silhouette blocked the moon.
The arteries of his heart wove tight, stealing his breath. His mother’s lips trembled as she pressed a kiss to his brow. “I love you, my son.”
“He still needs blood,” Larissa argued. Her hands lifted his head off the boggy ground, her wrist pressing to his lips. “Keep drinking.”
“All females inside, now,” Bishop King commanded.
“He needs more blood!”
He would heal. Her blood would speed the process and lessen the pain, but he’d had enough to ensure the fatal wounds had not ended him. He weakly turned his face away from her offering. “Do as you’re told, Larissa.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Her mouth set into a stubborn strike across her beautiful face. “I’m sick of men telling me what’s best. Drink.”
She pressed her vein to his lips, and he was too weak to defy her command.
“Bishop!” His lashes twitched at the panic sound of Gracie’s cry. “Bishop King, we need you inside! Adam’s mate is wounded and—”
Cain struggled to sit up. His cursed wounds hindering his movements and driving him back to the ground. Coughing and choking, he pushed Larissa’s arm away. “An—”
“If you want to help her, you need your strength,” his sister hissed, holding him down. “Do as I say.”
Where had this officious side of her come from? He grappled against her impressive strength. “I need—”
She leaned close to his ear so the others could not hear. “Your injuries will be fatal if you do not keep drinking, Cain. Please. I can’t bear to think of a world without you. You need your strength to escape this place. They’ll punish you.” Her voice ceased with emotion. “You need your strength.”
His heart tore at her words, and he pulled vigorously from her vein, stealing painful gulps to speed the process. He couldn’t bear to tell her it was over. He’d never have the strength to run. Too many witnesses had been present. They would have him in custody before he even got off the ground. And come morning, he’d be executed for his sins.
The Bishop called out orders to the males. “Take him to the detainment cells. See he’s restrained and guarded. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Cain blinked up at Larissa, eyes pleading, speaking without words. What would happen to Annalise? Where was she?
His sister glanced at the house, her brow puckered with worry. As he continued to drink, she leaned close. “Adam will fix her. Worry about yourself. That’s all you can do right—”
“Larissa!”
Her arm jerked away, her flesh ripping hard against his teeth, as Silus yanked her away from him. Pain exploded in Cain’s skull as his head smacked into the ground.
“I told you to get inside!” The back of his hand connected to her cheek, dropping her to Cain’s side.
Fury rose inside of him, but his injuries left him crippled and helpless. From the corner of his eye, he saw her push to her hands and knees, the open flesh of her wrist torn from his teeth. A small trickle of blood dripped from her nose.
“Get up!” Silus bellowed, yanking her to her feet.
Her cry stifled as her husband shook her. “He’s a blight on this order. You embarrass yourself and me.”
“No!” She pushed out of his arms, reaching for Cain, only to be yanked back. “I can’t leave him like this.”
Silus jerked her away. “You can’t save him, woman. His actions assured that.”
The world silenced for a beat. Perhaps he lost consciousness. Then he roared in pain as strong arms lifted him off the ground. They wrenched him onto a gurney, pulling tender muscles and tearing flayed flesh. The pain attacked his mind as they hauled him onto a carriage.
In the distance, his sister’s cries carried. Winking in and out of consciousness, he tried to sense Annalise, but his injuries prevented the necessary level of focus. Each attempt sapped his strength, until he blacked out again and again.
His head throbbed. While his other injuries slowly began to heal, the wound at his temple would not. Sharp, throbbing pain consumed him.
The carriage lurched and he winced, unable to hold on as his body pitched into the side of the wagon. The sound of the others drifted farther away until his pounding heart, and the pounding of horse hooves was all he could hear.
Chapter Forty-Two
Adam reopened his wrist a third time, smearing his blood over her unmoving mouth. “Drink, ainsicht.”
The wound started to seal. “No...”
He shook as the blood flowed uselessly down her chin, mixing with what was already shed. “Drink!”
Working hard to calm his tremors, he bit at his wrist again. His unsteady fingers opened her mouth and he trickled several drops of his blood over her tongue. He massaged her throat, hoping to help her swallow. “Please, ainsicht. You must...”