Ruth McKell

“"Eva?" the monster whispered, feathering a panicked touch to her cheek. Her color was fading, a deathly pallor swallowing the rosy hue of sun-touched skin. "Wake up," it pleaded weakly, cradling the back of her neck to prevent her head from lolling. Salt burned the corners of its eyes. Strange, how tears could hurt sometimes.
With a little sob, the monster repositioned Eva on the grass and pressed both palms to the wound in her side. The gentle pressure made Eva convulse, her eyes slitting open.
She moaned.
"I’m sorry." The monster couldn’t tell where its panic ended and Arthur’s began. The level of terror coursing through their shared being was so violent it made the monster nauseous. "I’m so sorry. But you’ve got to stay awake for me.” It scrubbed under its eyes, clearing the blurriness away, tasting salt. "You have to stay.”
Eva’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The monster stripped off Arthur’s shirt and balled it up, then pressed it to her wound. "Come on, Freckles,” it choked out.
The monster had never prayed before. What was a creature like it supposed to do with God, anyway? But it firmly believed that if anyone should curry divine favor, it was Arthur’s bee girl.”
― Ruth McKell, Honey in Her Veins

“You're not dying today, Freckles," he said with a grunt. When they were on the ledge, he thumbed the dip in her waist. "If he won't save you, I will.”
― Ruth McKell, Honey in Her Veins