Another lovely postcard from Cassandra Jean, another Lady Midnight snippet — though some of you may have seen a bit of this. :)
“Why did you pull the arrow out?” Emma demanded, unzipping her own jacket and pulling her sweater over her head. She had a tank top on under it. She patted his chest and side with the sweater, absorbing as much of the blood as she could.
Jules’ breath was coming in harsh pants. “Because when someone shoots you with an arrow, you immediate response is not “Thanks for the arrow, I think I’ll keep it for a while.’”
“Good to know your sense of humor is intact.”
“It was burning,” Julian said. “Not like a normal wound. Like there was something on the arrowhead, acid or something.”
“Raziel,” Emma muttered. She’d mopped away as much of the blood as she could. It was still welling from the puncture wound, running in thin streams down his stomach, gathering in the lines between his abdominal muscles.
She took a deep breath. “You’re too skinny,” she said, as brightly as she could. “Too much coffee, not enough pancakes.”
“I hope they put that on my tombstone.” He gasped as she shifted forward, and she realized abruptly that she was squarely in Julian’s lap, her knees around his hips. It was a bizarrely intimate position.
