SAVE THE LAST DANCE

Chapter 5

Sara led Ian to the bathroom, where she sat him down and began to carefully clean his wounds.

"Ian?" she said softly.

"Yes, milady?"

"How long has he been doing this to you?"

"Since the day we last met."

"Eleven years?"

"Yes, Lady Sara."

"Please. Just call me Sara."

"Yes, mi—yes, Sara."

"And Ian?"

"Yes…Sara?"

"Did you really mean what you said? That you wanted to be with me for a lifetime?"

"Always and forever, my Sara."

Sara paused for a moment in her ministrations, and he turned to see what was wrong. She looked deeply into his eyes for a long moment, then pressed her lips to his once more, putting all of her love for him into the sweet touch. The kiss deepened, and, as they embraced, silver tendrils snaked out from the bracelet on Sara's right wrist and sank into Ian's own wrist. They both gasped as they pulled apart, watching the pulsing streams of liquid metal as they twined around their joined right hands. Then, as suddenly as the tendrils had appeared, they retreated, leaving only two tiny puncture wounds in the tender skin of his right wrist. They stared at one another for a moment before Sara pulled back further, indicating that he should turn back around.

When he complied, Sara was rendered utterly speechless.

His back was smooth and unblemished—there was no sign of the bloody mess that had been there just moments ago.

He was completely healed.

"Ian, you—you're healed! All of it—the blood, the cuts, the old scars—they're all gone!!" Sara said softly, her voice tinged with reverence at this miracle.

Ian turned. "It was the Witchblade. It sensed who I was, recognized me as your Protector, and it felt the love you must truly have for me."

Sara looked down at the bracelet, thanking it silently. She looked up at the dark man before her.

"Ian, I'm sorry I was angry with you—"

"You were hurt badly. I understand."

And as Sara looked into his eyes again, she saw that he truly did understand.

She saw the hurt that he, too, had felt—and still felt—at their forced separation.

Kissing him lightly once again, she took him into her bedroom, where she pulled an over-sized shirt from a dresser drawer and handed it to him.

She waited for him to don it, then said, "Ian…come meet your daughter…our daughter."

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