Brave (A Wicked Trilogy 3)

“And I’m still traumatized by the fact you were about to become a live-action porno right in front of me.” Tink stepped into the room. “I forgot how that happens after—”

“I don’t feel good,” I whispered as my stomach cramped. I placed my hand against it, drawing in a shallow breath.

“To be honest, you don’t look good.”

I tried to step to the side, but my legs gave out. Tink moved quick as lightning, catching me. Somehow we ended up on the floor, Tink holding on to my chin. His eyes were wide with worry.

“Ivy, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Everything was wrong.

The numbness in my skin spread, seeping into my bones and organs. “I can’t . . . I can’t feel myself.”

His brows knitted. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I can’t—” The numbness suddenly turned on me. It started as a humming feeling, but then it began to burn. “My skin—it hurts.”

Tink stared, and I thought I saw understanding creeping into his face, but the burn intensified. I lifted my hand, half expecting to see it on fire as a scream burst out of me.

“Shit,” Tink muttered. “Shit. Shit.”

My entire body jerked against his as the fire spread all over my skin, starting from the base of my spine and rolling down my legs, then up my torso and over my arms. Screaming, my muscles turned rigid as my back bowed.

“Ivy.” A weak, rough voice broke through the haze of pain.

Wide eyed, my gaze swung to the right. Ren was sliding off the table. He took one step but fell to his knees, crawling the rest of the distance. His shadowed eyes widened with surprise. “Ivy—”

Pain I’d never experienced or knew was possible consumed every part of my body. I jerked away from Tink, but he caught me around the waist as Ren grabbed the sides of my face. His lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying. Nothing made sense beyond the way my body was tearing itself apart from the inside.

A screeching noise erupted from me, the kind that would’ve normally raised the hairs all over my body, because it sounded so fae-like. The stiffness went out of me and I curled my legs up, panting as some of the burn eased off.

Then, just as I thought it was over, the most intense craving exploded in my gut. It was almost as bad as the fire. My gaze moved from Tink to Ren.

Need filled me.

Baring my teeth, I jerked toward him, but Tink caught me as Ren fell back on his ass.

“What is happening to her?” Panic filled his voice. “I thought we’d healed her?”

“We did,” Tink groaned, twisting as I railed against him—against Ren. “Now she’s paying the consequences.”

Hours blurred together, a twisted kaleidoscope of razor sharp need and all-consuming desire—lust for Ren and for what was inside him. Then the pain would return, burning through the cravings, turning me inside out.

The world around me faded in and out. There was Tink holding me to him as I felt Ren holding sweat-soaked hair back from my face. He was whispering to me, but there was nothing other than the cool, pleasant abyss where I floated.

Then it happened.

Without warning, intense cold washed over me. So brutally cold, my skin felt like it was set afire. A prickling sensation hit each inch of my body, as if every part of my skin was being pierced to the marrow. Pain enveloped me once more, becoming my world, but this time it was an icy fire.

“What’s . . . what’s happening?” I gasped, unable to see through the pain. The room—the world was white.

“You took too much.” Tink’s voice was strained. “You went too far. I’m sorry, Ivy. I’m sorry.”

His words made no sense. Words in general were of no use to me as the icy fire heightened. Screams tore from my throat, a far different sound from the screeching.

I became aware of being moved, and I only knew that Tink was no longer holding me. I recognized Ren’s scent. He held me throughout, wrapping trembling arms around my waist, his shaking legs hooked over mine. My back bowed and I stretched his embrace until it almost broke.

Then . . . then it was like a raging fire being doused with water. The pain barely eased in the beginning, but slowly, after time, it disappeared like smoke in the wind. After the burn, I fell into a familiar deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but waking up was difficult. My eyelids felt like they’d been sewed together, and it was a struggle to pry them open.

The first thing I saw was the low ceiling. Infirmary. I was in the infirmary. Why? I searched my memories but they were cloudy and I was too tired to wade through the dark and shadowy pieces to figure out what the hell was going on.

But I knew I wasn’t alone.

It took effort, but I managed to turn my head to the left.

Tink sat beside my bed in one of those metal chairs. He had an ankle resting on a knee. Curled in his lap was Dixon. The little kitten was doing what it always did. Napping. That kitten had the best life ever.

The last time I’d seen Tink, he hadn’t had Dixon with him. And he hadn’t been alone. Ren had been with him—Ren had been holding me.

“Ren,” I croaked out.

Tink’s gaze lifted to mine. He didn’t say anything as he stared at me, and the first kernels of unease stirred.

I tried to speak again, but my mouth rivaled the Sahara Desert. I cleared my throat. “What . . . what’s going on?”

Tink looked back at me, stare solemn. “‘The night is dark and full of terror.’”

I frowned. “What?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to say that to someone. All I’m missing is my Lady Melisandre red gown and hood.”

I stared at him.

“You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “there’s another thing I’ve wanted to say. Like when people have bad news? My car just broke down, and I’ll be like, bam! ‘The Lannisters send their regards,’ or I just got fired from my job and bam! ‘The North remembers.’ That probably makes me a shitty brownie, but I don’t care.”

Having no idea why he was so stuck on Game of Thrones references at the moment, I tried to sit and realized right then that I couldn’t move. Confused, I peered down at my body. There was a thin white blanket tucked in at my waist, but that wasn’t what was keeping me in place.

White bands, some kind of cloth, circled my wrists and ankles. My stomach dropped. I was tied down. “T-Tink, why . . . am I—”

“Tied up like you’re engaged in some freaking BDSM shit?” He leaned forward, mindful of Dixon. “‘The Lannisters send their regards.’”

“Tink!” Panic sparked.

His gaze flickered away and then settled on me. “You don’t remember?”

I had the sinking suspicion I didn’t want to remember.

“You were attacked,” he supplied.

Yes. I remember that. Walking in the courtyard, minding my own business. Two fae had attacked me. “They stabbed me,” I whispered, filled with anger and horror. “They actually stabbed me.”

“Yeah, they did. Put some decent sized holes in you, too. You also had a hole in your hand, and let me tell you, that was gnarly. I could look right through it and see the other side of the room.”

I tried to see my hand.

“You’re all healed up now.” Reaching over, he tapped my left hand. “No gaping hole. No fatal stab wounds. You’re good as new.” He paused. “Better.”

“How . . . ?” I trailed off. More memories surfaced. I’d been dying. Like legit bleeding out with internal wounds dying, but I hadn’t.

I suddenly remembered Ren leaning over me. He’d been telling me that he loved me and that there had only been me, only would be me, and he . . .

I’m sorry, Sweetness. Forgive me.

Forgive him?

My heart started thundering in my chest. Pieces of the night started to fall together.

“You’ve actually been asleep for like forever,” Tink continued. “Well, not forever, but like four days.”

>

Four days? Holy shit.

“I was kind of worried that you were dead and you’d start stinking soon.”