““It couldn’t be.” “Upon my thirteenth summer, Kerrasis himself punctured my breastbone and drew out an entire pint.” Tyr inclined his head toward the tiny vial. “After his distillation, that is all that was left.” With a whole new level of respect, Sal looked at the vial. How she wished she had a micropipette to take out the absolutely smallest drop. In her effort to be so cautious, her hand shook, and half a drop spilled off the Q-tip and onto the carpet. Tyr’s sharp intake of breath was great...er than when she had been cleaning his wound. “When it is gone, there is no more.” He recorked the vial and took it back from her. “With no serum, such a wound would be… when there is no more…” His hand went toward his chest, then fell away. “I am no more.” Oh, God. Why did he have to tell her that? Why entrust her with such responsibility? She was a doctor, used to holding people’s lives in her hands, but for some reason, she was shaken. Sal didn’t want Tyr’s life in her hands.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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