Perry's POV
I cradled Phoebe against my chest, pressing my lips to her forehead while desperately trying to stem the blood flowing from her neck. Her name fell from my lips over and over, but she remained still and silent.
"Please, open your eyes... please, wake up."
I brushed my mouth against the tip of her nose, then against her lips that had grown frighteningly cold.
Even her long black hair was matted with crimson.
"I want to hear your voice... ask me anything, everything and I will do it for you. I will give you whatever you want... but, please, wake up..."
I pressed my forehead to hers, gently shaking her limp form.
Somewhere behind me, Wallace had sent one of his men to fetch Marcela. The rest remained on their knees, careful not to draw my attention or disturb this moment. They had no idea what I might do.
Right now, I was consumed by grief over losing my mate, but they couldn't predict when that sorrow might transform into something far more dangerous.
