Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 414

Chapter 414: Don’t fall
Mia lifted her head in time to see Ford take a flying leap from the horrible monster’s back. He hit the coverlet with enough force to bounce her slightly, and she flinched.

“Ford!”

The animal let out a hiss, but seemed to sway slightly despite the stability of so many legs.

In its rage, it lashed out at the man who was now rolling away from it–towards the edge!

Scrambling, Mia fought against her skirts to reach him. Caught between an enraged beast and a fall the distance of her farmhouse, she didn’t know which end Ford would rather suffer.

The monster’s hiss fizzled, and its front legs shook, though with its claws it still flailed out towards the perpetrator of its injuries.

“No!”

Mia’s word didn’t even distract the huge creature. In its death throes, as it bled out, it had eyes only for Ford.

And how many eyes!

The red of the pupils and the color of the blood made for a gruesome scene. Crimson blossoms sliced through flesh, floating down to the coverlet as scarlet liquid flowed around them.

Like a rain of red, gushing down upon the blanket.

By the time Mia was able to reach Ford, he was nearly to the edge. Throwing herself across him to halt his momentum, she kept him from falling to his death.

Only the breadth of a hand was left before he would have taken the tumble.

Pulling him back towards herself, she was surprised when he rolled rather easily.

“Mia?”

He was dazed, but fully conscious, to her surprise.

“I’m all right, how are you?” She quickly headed off any concern he might be feeling on her part.

“Bleeding,” He murmured. His eyes were unfocused, moving slightly. Likely from spinning across the ground.

“Where?” She scanned him, and found that his pant leg was torn at the shin. Pulling the fabric away, Mia schooled her expression into a stoic stare.

It was not wonderful. It could be much worse, but the blood was flowing steadily.

“Was this a wound from the creature or a flower?” She asked. The wounds from the crocodile had been… unpleasant. The flowers were something of a known quantity.

“I can’t feel anything,” He responded dully.

“Probably the flower, then,” She murmured to herself. Reaching down, she wished she had cleaner fabric to bind the wound. As it was, the best she could do was rip a section of her petticoat.

She did so, turning away from Ford and making sure it was of sufficient length to do the job well.

“Those cut deeply,” She told him somberly as she wrapped the wound as tightly as she dared. Stopping the bleeding without cutting off the circulation was a tricky endeavor.

“Thank you,” He told her with a sigh. “Can I sit up now?”

“Everything all right?”

Trace’s voice came from nearer to the wight Emperor. His back was to them, and he seemed to be almost fully concentrated on containing what other nightmarish visions the dreams held.

“We’re fine… mostly,” Mia amended her statement in case Trace needed something from them. He deserved an accurate assessment of their capability to deal with further dangers.

“Then it’s safe to come back up?” Denholm called from somewhere below.

Mia sneered instead of answering the man, wishing he would stay gone forever. Ford wiped his arm across his eyes and moved to sit up.

“What else do you need?” Mia whispered, leaning close to him. She looked into his eyes, more focused now. Pupils even, tracking together. That was good.

They softened slightly as Ford looked at her.

“I’m perfectly fine,” He said evenly, though his gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second. It made her face color to realize how closely she was leaning towards him. Almost sitting on him!

Blushing, she leaned away.

It occurred to her that though they had kissed twice now, both times were either while invisible or in utter darkness.

Never where she was looking into his face. Never when he was looking at her.

Maybe it would be different?

No. Well, maybe. But hopefully a good different?

“Are you two going to just stare at each other with moon-calf eyes all day?” Denholm murdered the moment by peeking over the side of the bed.

“Trace told you to shut up,” Mia reminded him harshly.

“So he did, but no one answered my question, and I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of voyeur,” Denholm answered with a roll of his eyes. “Oh, I see you killed the thing. Disgusting.”

“‘Thank you’ would be more appropriate if you insist on speaking,” Mia grumbled, turning away.

Ford got to his feet, alternating between hostile glances at Denholm and curious looks towards Trace.

“Are you going to help him?” Mia asked Denholm impatiently. “Surely your magic is beginning to come back by now.”

She worried for her uncle. He was overtaxed, and needed rest. At least if Denholm was making himself useful, she could mitigate her resentment towards him.

“Now that the circus animal is dead, are you going to clean up your mess?” Denholm shot back at her. “Silk coverlets stain so easily, you know. A woman’s touch is usually needed to take care of such things. Of course, I myself could use–”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” Ford snapped. Denholm appraised him openly, then shrugged with an infuriating grin.

“Trace, dear fellow, allow me to assist you in your noble endeavor. Ah, how I love being of aid to the savior of the world as we know it…”

The words were delivered lightheartedly, with mockery in every syllable. Taunting them, because he knew that they would do nothing that would impede his ability to aid Trace’s labor… as long as he was willing to continue doing it.

“I hate him,” Ford sneered under his breath.

“You have from the beginning,” Mia reminded. “I would say you have good senses for that sort of thing, but you hated me, too, at first, didn’t you?”

“Hmph.” Ford grunted. “Can’t be right all the time, can I?”