It took more effort to remove his sword from this creatureâ as it was imbedded fully between the ribs of the dead siren. He gave one unsuccessful tug before placing his foot on the creature to keep it still while he gave a second attempt, the blade finally coming free and pulling a stringy chunk of innards with it. His lip curled in disgust, shaking the sword one vigorous time to rid it of the putrid flesh. But he should have known better than to have wasted so much time removing his sword; even if it were a few brief moments, every second counted. He whirled around to where Adelise had once stood, realizing that she had been snatched up from her place on the ground and was now hovering beyond the cliffâs edge.
He ran forward, unsure of what he could even doâ but he had to do something. Audric would have his head on a pike if he returned to the castle without his sister; but beyond that, Geralt didnât want her to dieâ regardless of what the consequences for himself would be. He sprinted towards the hovering mass of their entangled bodies, boots pounding the ground below him almost as hard and fast as the mutant heart pounding within his chest.Â
Helplessly he watched as Adelise plunged a dagger deep into the chest of the flying beast, forcing her own release into empty air. He knew at this point, that there was no getting her back onto the cliffâ he would have to follow her off the edge, and think quickly before he did so. With each stride, he rid himself of first his sword, stabbing it into the dirt, followed by piece after piece of leather armor that he discarded each time it was freed from his body. The leather would only weigh him down, and even though there could be more monsters down in the sea below, there was no way to effectively wield a sword underwater. He was down to his black leather trousers, a black, low-buttoned, half-sleeve undershirt, and his wolf medallion that slapped against his chest with each pace.
There was no hesitation on his part when he reached the cliffâs edgeâ launching as far as he could away from the ground to avoid hitting any rocks close to the cliff wall at the bottom. He dove head first, arms above his head, eyes searching for any signs of her. She had already hit the waterâ but luckily, he jumped just in time to see the rippling foam where her body must have broke the ocean surface. He tucked his head down upon impact, squinting his eyes and hoping that he wasnât going to immediately collide head-first with one of the jagged rocks below the surface.Â
Yellow eyes opened beneath the waterâ he was fortunate enough to avoid a large rock that was a mere foot or so away from him. He fought the desire to close them, the sting of the ocean water not even slightly subsiding the longer he remained underwater. Frantically, he twisted in the water, trying to locate her, but the current and breaking of waves on the surface above made it difficult to see anything more than a few feet in front of him. He quickly became disoriented, and decided to swim to the surface to reevaluate where he was in comparison to where heâd seen her impact zone. His lungs were begging for air once he broke the surfaceâ which reminded him that if she were underwater for much longer, there would be no chance of him finding her alive. After a quick evaluation of his position, he took one more deep breath and dove down again, fighting the current with every ounce of strength within him as he searched. The deeper he swam, the more clarity he receivedâ the darkness of depth was not a barrier for him, as his eyes were trained for night vision anyways. Finally, he located her, and despite his lungs feeling like they were about to burst, fought the urge to return to surface. He couldnât see her faceâ her long, dark curls swirling in front of her as she continued to slowly sinkâ but he didnât need to see her dormant expression to know that she was unconscious; her motionless limbs were enough of a sign.Â
Relief rushed in once his hands reached her waist, but the battle was not over yet. He soon realized why she was unable to swim to the surface, as his own feet began getting stuck in her skirts, keeping him from being able to drive them to land. Veins popping out on his neck and forehead, he grunted, fighting both her clothes and the urge to inhale a breath full of sea water. Running out of options, he made one final attemptâ reaching for the neckline of her bodice and tucking his fingers between her cleavage and the fabric. With one hard tug, he tore the cloth in half, the sound of it muffled by the water in his ears. It sunk into the darkness below them as he moved to her skirts now, grabbing fistfuls of fabric and tearing it open at the seams. Once there was enough space, he was able to yank her through the skirts, kicking at them with his feet until she was free of those as well, leaving her only in her shoes and white underdressâ which he would have noticed was now completely see-through were he not fighting for both of their lives at the moment.Â
He held her tight against him, the pads of his fingers digging into her mid-back as he used his other hand to swim. His muscular legs kicked with the only strength he had left, though he was mostly just running on adrenaline now. Finally, as if the moment would never come, he breached the oceanâs surface and gasped so hard for air that it pained his throat and chest. However, slowing to catch his breath was not an option at the moment, so he pressed on, exhaustion evident with each stroke of his arms and kick of his legs.Â
Just as they were about to give out, his foot struck sand, and he was able to began climbing up shore, dragging her with him. He stumbled here and there, his feet sinking into the sand, but never once fell. Only when he reached semi-dry sand did he fall forward, landing at her side. The heaving of his chest kept him from being able to speak, so he just continued to act, swiping strands of wet hair from her face. Her lips were a blueish-purple, the skin around her mouth was ghostly white, and upon checking for a pulseâ there was none.Â
Despite the exhaustion that he felt, another round of adrenaline kicked in, his will to see her live through this stronger than anything else at the moment. Palms flat on her chest now, between her breasts, he began rhythmic compressions, using his own body weight to aid him as he grunted with each push.Â
âWake up, Adeliseââ he hissed breathlessly between clenched teeth, the first time he had referred to her as anything other than âprincessâ or âyour highnessâ. His hands relocated from her chest to her face to pry her jaw open; simultaneously clamping her nose shut before falling forward and latching his open mouth to hers, emptying the contents of his lungs into her.
It was an empty blackness. Nothing. She simply ceased to exist. It was almost comforting in a way, the silence, the endless expanse of oblivion. Her peace did not last long though, her senses surging to the surface, muffled and distorted, her mind restarting and trying to get her body to function. Her limbs were heavy and it felt as though she were still underwater, useless and unable to move.
The brightness of the living world nearly seared her eyes as she gained consciousness. Eyes open but not quite yet able to focus, she was acutely aware of a warmth pressed against her mouth, before she pulled away from it, rolling to her side and coughing the sea from her lungs. She shouldnât be alive. Had she still been human, she would be well and truly dead. There was no way a mere mortal would be able to come back from a drowning like hers. No, the only reason she was still alive, was purely because of vampiric disease coursing through her bloodstream.Â
After another coughing fit, she rolled back onto her back, inhaling deeply, relishing the air within her lungs. It took her a moment to remember where she was, what had happened, who she was with. Geralt. Blue eyes met gold as she finally focused on her rescuer. Her chest, still heaving, the white shift soaked with saltwater and very much see through, leaving nothing to the imagination.Â
Adelise couldnât bring herself to care. She was on a high, a rush of pure adrenaline surging through her. She didnât know if it was from the fight, her drowning, her resurrection, or perhaps a combination of everything. All she knew was that everything was more intense. The colors were brighter, the sounds were louder, everything was sharper. Her fingers curled themselves into the sand, relishing in the rough texture. She stared up at Geralt, her eyes searching every feature and scar of his face in great detail, committing it to memory.Â
Before she could stop herself, her hand hand found its way to his cheek, dragging along his jaw, tangled in his wet hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling him down to her, she met his mouth in a hot kiss, forcing her tongue into his mouth, not even giving him the chance to reject her.Â