The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)

by Richelle Mead

“Sage?” Adrian appeared in the doorway, and I quickly tried to blink away the tears that had started to fill my eyes. “Yeah?” “You okay?” “Can’t you tell from my aura?” He didn’t answer but instead took the washcloth from me before I dropped it. “Turn,” he commanded. I did, and he dabbed the scrape with it. With him standing so close to me, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot. I could also smell the alcohol on him. Nonetheless, his hand was steadier than mine. Again, he asked, “You okay?” “I’m not the one who had a sword to my throat.” “That’s not the question I asked. Are you hurt anywhere else?” “No,” I said, looking down. “Just maybe… maybe my pride.” “Your pride?” He paused to rinse the washcloth. “What does that have to do with anything?” I looked up but still didn’t meet his eyes. “I can do a lot of things, Adrian. And—at the risk of sounding egotistical—I mean, well, I can do a lot of pretty awesome things that most people can’t.” There was amusement in his voice. “Don’t I know it. You can change a tire in ten minutes while speaking Greek.” “Five minutes,” I said. “But when my life’s on the line—when others’ lives are on the line—what good am I? I can’t fight. I was completely helpless out there. Just like when the Strigoi attacked us and Lee. I can only stand and watch and wait for people like Rose and Dimitri to save me. I… I’m like a storybook damsel in distress.” He finished cleaning my cheek and set the washcloth down. He cupped my face in his hands. “The ...