Soaked with effluvia, I had barely enough control to nod. Nate seemed so damned proud of his accomplishment. And dismissive of the wound that had my insides bristling, tiny pinpricks catching fire. All he need do was make a single ejective move – free the knife or bury it deeper – and I’d be done. It would present a crossroads for him: save me or end the prophecy, thus saving the world from my eventual progeny. Naturally, I didn’t mention this.
“Called for help. Might heal me. Might kill me.”
Glass doors shattered, and Kaia flew in on black wings.