What happens when demons die?
I shake my head. No. I’m not letting him die. There’s been enough pain because of me. Gripping his arm, I fling it over my shoulders and force him to his feet.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice weak and strangled with pain.
I drag him forward, taking the weight of his body onto mine. “We have to patch you up. Maybe find some cave or hidden entrance in this path so you can rest.”
Zaki tries to pull back. I dig my nails into his arm and his waist, keeping him against me. “Thanks, little moth. But you can let me go. I’ll just hinder you.”
“You helped me until now. I can’t let you die without fulfilling my part of the bargain.”
“If you drag your feet, you won’t make it back to your mates.”
“They would hate me if they knew I only managed because I abandoned the person who helped me.”
Zaki releases a defeated sigh, and his body weighs a bit more against my shoulder. “It’s your death sentence,” he murmurs, but there’s not much fight left in him. I bet he’s in too much pain to argue, which is good for me. Grinding my teeth together, I force my muscles to cooperate and half-carry him down the road.
We walk for a while before Zaki points at a fallen tree near the path. Behind it, there’s an outcrop of rock that serves as a low ceiling, creating not a cave, but a shallow indentation in the rock. “Here,” he breathes out.
“There’s not much hiding us here,” I say. From the road, the tree and the outcrop create a slight hindrance, but if someone’s looking, they’d easily find us. “Maybe we can find a cave?”
“No caves,” says Zaki, breathless. “I’ve been here before. No caves.”
I glance into his face to see his tanned skin has turned white as paper. Shit. He’s not good. The blood running freely from his wound has already drenched into my dress, slipped down my leg in a viscous trickle. He has to sit. He won’t make it farther than this.
We make it past the tree and stumble to the wall. Zaki lands a bloodied hand to the rock, and I help him sit. His entire face is scrunched with pain, and I can only gape at him. What should I do? I don’t have my shadows, I don’t even have a first-aid kit. He can’t die like this. My heart jerks in my chest. How do I heal a demon?
His knuckles brush down my cheek. I meet his gaze to find him smiling at me. “You look worried. I like that.”
My brows shoot up. “You like that I’m worried about you bleeding out?”
“I like that you’re worried about me.” And he rests his head against the wall, his lips parted. “I’m screwed, Cassandra. You should leave while you have the time. This path will take you there. Just follow it, and you’ll be back home in no time.”
I swallow hard. Yes, I could do that. Leave him behind, make my way back to my mates. I would even get rid of the demonic deal I find myself in. Maybe I’m stupid, or maybe it’s some of that darkness inside me, but I can’t leave him behind. He wants freedom, and he’s been fighting to have it, and then I leave him to die. How could I do this?
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving you,” I say with finality so he knows not to waste his breath. He won’t convince me.
Zaki stretches his lips into a tired but grateful smile. His fingers snake into mine, and he pulls my hand to his lips. He kisses the back of my hand once, twice, then turns it to press a kiss to my wrist. We stay there, his breath hitting my skin, his eyes half-lidded as he bleeds out in front of me.
The sight of his lips on my wrist hits me like a slap. A memory rises in the back of my head. Donatello, wounded Donatello, bleeding Donatello. He drank from my blood, and that patched him up. When it wasn’t enough, he drank from Ren. That’s how we healed him.
Hope flares in my chest. “Zaki. Listen. Once, Donatello got wounded, and if he fed, he would be alright again, okay? So, he fed from me. Then from Ren. And that made him okay.” The words spill out from me too fast, making little sense. I shake my head, trying to organize them. “Donatello is a vampire. He was wounded, he drank my blood, and that patched him up. Do you have anything like this? Is there any way you could consume something that would heal you?”
Zaki shoots me a weird glance. I cock my head in wait, and he narrows his eyes. “Little moth. You don’t want to hear that,” he finally says, a weak chuckle escaping his lips.
“I asked, of course I do.”
He lets my hand drop from his hold. “Yes, I have something like this,” he says, locking eyes with me. “But you won’t like it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asexdemon. Remember?”
I narrow my eyes, then it dawns on me. “Oh. So, you heal with sex.” He nods. “Okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Right...” Shit. I can’t let him die. What if he’s teasing me? What if he’s only saying that to see if I’d give in? I slide a glance at the wound. No, I don’t think he’d take this joke so far. He’s been infuriating, yes, but never a joker. “Shit. Okay. What do I have to do?”