Page 99 of Not Your Ex's Hexes
“Working on her?” Panic seized his throat, making it tight. “Should we be taking her to the hospital, or…”
The youngest Maxwell witch gave him a funny look.
“Right. This isn’t something Norm medicine can fix. Can I see her?”
Olive glanced at Julius and back, looking unsure. “We can’t afford distractions.”
“I won’t distract anyone. I swear. I just… need to see her. Please.”
She studied him closely, and it took him a spare moment to realize he was still demon’d out. He dragged that bastard back to his cage, but not without breaking a slight sweat. Once all his parts were back to rights, he gave her another pleading look.
“Please, Olly,” he begged.
Fuck, he needed to see Rose more than he required his next breath, and he couldn’t let himself dwell on why, too consumed with the need to see her for himself. If Olive told him to go away, he would… at least off the porch. But he wouldn’t go a step farther.
He couldn’t.
“Let the brothers in, dear.” Edie Maxwell’s voice spilled onto the dimly lit porch. “But any more of that porch nonsense and I’ll happily blast them to another continent. One that doesn’t have demon portals for easy transportation.”
Olive cocked a blond eyebrow, glancing from Julius to Damian. “Well? You heard the lady.”
“No more nonsense,” Damian promised.
Julius nodded. “Sorry, love.”
Olive studied them both a few seconds longer before nodding for them both to follow. “Stay back, stay quiet, and for the love of Goddess,don’tinterfere. Gran isn’t the only one with the ability to give cross-continental ass-blasts.”
“How is she?” Damian asked, stepping into the house.
“Better than when she got here,” Olive answered grimly.
He scanned the cottage until his gaze landed on the barn-style kitchen table and the pale, unconscious Rose lying on top of it. His feet froze to the floor.
Devoid of the blush he loved seeing creep into her cheeks, Rose’s pale skin starkly contrasted her dark hair, and her lips, usually a petal pink, nearly matched the rest of her. The only color in the vicinity was the pool of bright red blood beneath the table, and on Violet’s and Edie’s hands.
Rose’s blood.
He shifted close and immediately received a stern look from Olive.
Edie and Violet, their eyes closed, held their hands over Rose’s stomach, their purple-and-gold Magic swirling over the gash responsible for so much blood loss. They murmured repeatedly, focused on their task while Olive slipped past them to dip her fingers into the ceramic bowl by Rose’s head.
She recited her own gentle chorus as she gently rubbed the bowl’s concoction onto Rose’s temples, and then walked around her sister and grandmother to place more on the base of her throat, her wrists,and finally, the tops of her feet. Once done, her hands joined the other two witches’, her soft green Magic intertwining with theirs.
After his ex hexed him for being a demonic asshole, Damian vowed never to get mixed up in witch affairs again, and he’d kept that vow. Until now. No way was he turning away.
With his gaze locked on Rose’s pale face, he missed the fact that the musical chanting had stopped until Violet said his name. All three Maxwell witches watched him with varying expressions.
“Is that it?” Rose still lay unmoving on the table.
The Prima gifted him a small, exhausted smile. “She’ll be okay. She’s made it through the worst of the healing.”
Her words didn’t match the worry on her face.
“When?” His voice cracked. “When will she be okay?”
“When her Magic restores enough to finish the healing process. Maybe you two can help relocate her to the back bedroom.”
“Of course.” Julius stepped forward as if to touch Rose.
