The medicine was a bitter, glowing fire and the only way to deliver it was through a desperate, intimate gamble. Lucius pressed his lips to hers, the contact sending a jolt through his system that had nothing to do with the poison and everything to do with the woman in his arms. He could feel the feverish heat radiating from her skin, a sharp contrast to the cool, night air of the room. The lingering scent of jasmine from the garden still clung to her hair, mixing with the metallic tang of the black blood.
He used his tongue to gently part her lips, forcing the glittering blue liquid into her mouth. He waited, his heart thundering against his ribs, holding her close enough to feel the faint, erratic rhythm of her own heart. Finally, he felt her throat move in a weak, reflexive swallow.
