Chapter 16

A very vivid image of Noah with a spike made of pure silver straight through his heart flashes in my mind. The cardinal wants him dead. The cardinal wants my mate dead.

I have spent fourteen years of my life with the man. And when he wants someone dead. They die.

"Leona," Noah says, very carefully. As though I am a delicate piece of art.

"Shall I send for the healer, sire?" the guard says.

"Yes. Now."

I faintly hear the door opening and closing. Then Noah grabs both my arms like I will fall if he doesn't. He looks at me like I am a broken thing in need of fixing. Which is exactly what I am but that is another story.

His touch is both a balm and a torment, a reminder of the vulnerability that clings to me like a shadow. The image of his impending death claws at my mi