Bound To The Ruthless Lycan

Chapter 9 : Healing Blood

"Damon!" I screamed, holding my breath as the sword in his hand was raised high.

The tip of the steel blade trembled violently in the air. He took a step forward toward me, but instead of striking, his foot tripped on the even stone floor. The sword slipped from his grip, clattering loudly onto the floor.

Damon dropped to his knees, bracing himself on both hands. He vomited a thick, foul-smelling black fluid onto the ground, coughing until his broad frame shook violently.

I rushed over, kneeling beside him, uncaring of the blood soaking my clothes.

"Damon! What's wrong with you?!" I cried, holding his tense shoulders.

"Back away, Sera..." Damon growled in a raspy, barely audible voice. His blood-red eyes strained to look at me. "Get out of here..."

I pushed aside his torn black cloak, then forced open the shirt over his chest. There, on the left side of his chest, was a wide, festering s***h wound. The flesh around the wound was a bluish-black, giving off a thin wispy vapor with a pungent, toxic stench.

"Wolfsbane poison," I whispered, my eyes widening at the condition of his wound. "This is a high-grade poison commonly used in wild battle arenas!"

Damon gripped my forearm tightly, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "The rogue rebels... at the outer training grounds... they ambushed me..."

"Why didn't you call the guards?! Why did you walk all the way to this vault alone?!" I asked in a panic, holding his body up so he wouldn't collapse.

"There are council spies outside," Damon whispered, his teeth chattering from excruciating pain. "If they know I'm infected with this poison... they will seize control of the fortress tonight..."

"Let me call the royal physician!" I said, starting to stand up.

Damon grabbed my wrist with what little strength he had left. "Don't! The royal physicians are in Lord Vane's pocket. One injection from them... will kill me instantly..."

I stared into his red eyes, which were beginning to lose consciousness. This man had fought with everything he had outside, holding back lethal poison in his body, just so he wouldn't look weak in front of his enemies.

"Help me get you up," I said firmly, draping his muscular arm over my shoulder. "There's a secret infirmary behind these bookshelves, right?"

Damon didn't answer, but he allowed me to support his heavy frame. We moved slowly, dragging our feet across the dark vault toward a small wooden door in the corner.

I laid Damon down on the wooden bed inside the secret infirmary. The room was small, containing only a single bed, a medicine table, and shelves lined with bottles of wound-cleansing potions.

Damon groaned loudly, clutching his chest. Black lines of poison began creeping up from his chest toward his neck. The poison was pushing his Lycan blood to the brink of madness, triggering Frenzy symptoms that stripped him of control over his mind.

"Sera... leave me..." Damon groaned, his eyes flashing red with fury once again. "My mind... I can't control my hands... I could kill you..."

"Shut up and let me work, King," I snapped, grabbing a small scalpel and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the shelf. "You don't get to die before I get my three hundred spears."

Damon stared at me through the haze of pain. "W-what do you mean?"

"The three hundred spears of the Silverwood army my father promised for revenge!" I cried out, tears of frustration dripping down my cheeks. "You promised to help me destroy my family's killers! Don't you dare die right now, Damon!"

Damon fell silent, biting his lip until it bled as I plunged the tip of the knife into the edge of his rotting wound.

"I have to cut away this infected flesh," I said, my hands shaking. "This is going to hurt a lot."

"Do it," Damon whispered softly.

I sliced into the blackened flesh on his chest. Dark, blackish blood poured out, soaking the bedsheets. Damon let out a long groan, his fingers digging into the edge of the wooden bedframe until the thick wood cracked and splintered.

I was gasping for air. The stench of poison and blood filled the cramped room. I poured alcohol over his wound, attempting to cleanse the lingering foul residue clinging between his ribs.

But the Wolfsbane poison was too potent. The flesh around my cuts rotted and blackened again within seconds. The poison was spreading faster than I could cut it away.

"No! This can't be happening..." I said in a panic. I grabbed an antidote potion from the table and poured it over the wound, but the liquid evaporated the moment it touched Damon's black blood.

Damon's breathing slowed even further. His eyes began to close, and the pulse in his neck weakened drastically.

"Damon! Open your eyes!" I shrieked, slapping his cheek hard. "Don't fall asleep! Damon!"

In my sheer panic, I hastily reached for the scalpel. The sharp tip accidentally cut deep into my own thumb.

"Ow!" I winced in pain.

Fresh, bright red blood welled up rapidly from my thumb. Just as I was about to wipe the blood on my clothes, my hand was jolted by Damon's chest heaving from a cough.

A single drop of my fresh blood fell from my fingertip, falling through the air and landing squarely in the center of the festering wound on Damon's chest.

The instant my blood touched the poisoned wound, a strange reaction occurred.

A sharp hissing sound emanated from Damon's chest. The toxic black fluid that had been congealing suddenly dissolved and vanished. The rotting flesh around his ribs flushed back to a healthy, vibrant red.

I caught my breath, staring spellbound at Damon's chest.

Within three seconds, the open flesh knit itself back together. The black veins on Damon's neck receded rapidly, and the wide s***h across his chest sealed completely shut, leaving only a faint red line behind.

The most deadly Wolfsbane poison vanished without a trace.

"How? How is this possible?" I whispered in confusion, staring at my thumb, which was still dripping blood.

Damon's once-labored breathing grew steady and deep again. The glowing crimson in his eyes slowly receded, replaced by their original, clear gold hue. His consciousness had fully returned.

Damon sat up slowly on the bed, staring down at his chest, now smooth and unharmed. He touched his own skin, a look of profound shock on his face.

"The pain is gone," Damon whispered, his voice returning to its deep, calm tone.

He looked up, staring at me as I stood frozen beside the bed. His gaze moved down from my face toward my raised hand.

Suddenly, before I had a chance to pull my hand back, Damon moved with blinding speed.

His large hand gripped my wrist tightly. The grip wasn't painful, but it was so strong I couldn't move.

Damon pulled my hand closer to his face. His eyes locked directly onto my thumb, which was still leaking fresh drops of bright red blood.

His pupils dilated. His gaze suddenly shifted into something ravenous, wild, and consumed by an inexplicable thirst.

"Damon?" I called out softly, my heart pounding rapidly at the change in his expression. "What is it?"

Damon didn't answer. He just stared at the blood on my finger without blinking, letting his warm breath brush against the skin of my trembling hand.