“We need to end this now,” insisted Nelson.
Ezra didn’t seem concerned. “That sounds like two wolves fighting to me. It’s probably Rory tearing his brother to pieces . . . unless her mate’s fighting one of his pack mates, of course, which is quite possible. Those animals know no loyalty.”
Gwen bared her teeth. “He’s an animal? You’re the civilized one?” She flicked a meaningful look at a beaten Yvonne, who’d curled up into a protective ball—her nose was broken, her face was swollen and bruised, and there were scratches on her face from Ezra’s ring. She no doubt had at least one broken rib and a dozen bruises beneath her clothes. Emotionally, Gwen had felt every slap, kick, punch, and whack of Brandt’s crutch.
“You think that makes you strong?” Fists shaking, Gwen curled her upper lip. “You’re a pussy, just like your son. Ah, Brandt doesn’t like being called that either. It’s only the truth.”
“I’m telling you, Ezra, we need to get this over with!” asserted Nelson.
Brandt’s fists clenched. “Aidan said it would hurt her most to see Yvonne hurt.”
“Then your job is done, because Yvonne is out of it,” Nelson pointed out. “Now, Ezra, just kill her now!”
The lights flickered again. Doors slammed all over the house. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
At Brandt’s panicked expression, Ezra assured him in a shaky voice, “It’s just the wind coming through the windows.”
“I can smell burning,” said Nelson. “Can’t you smell burning?”
“No,” said Ezra, but he could. And so could Gwen, just as she could feel the chill in the air. Her muscles went taut, and the hairs on her nape rose.
Brandt jerked. “Shit, I just saw something move in the shadows.”
Moira sighed. “You’re being ridiculous.” But she looked just as freaked.
“I did! I saw something! And it’s not windy out there, so how can the doors be slamming shut?”
Nelson suddenly jumped and whirled, scrubbing at his neck with the hand holding his gun. “Something just breathed on me.”
Taking advantage of his loosened hold, Gwen jammed her elbow into his gut and snapped back her head to connect with his nose. As he cried out in pain, she dived for her Glock. At the same time, Yvonne reared up and stabbed Ezra in the thigh with a thick shard of glass.
Gwen grinned in satisfaction as her hand wrapped around the butt of her Glock. She rolled onto her back, shot Nelson in the chest, and then aimed it at Brandt . . . who was about to slam his crutch over Yvonne’s head. But then the painting on the floor whipped through the air and hit him hard, sending him toppling over the banister with a loud cry.
A screeching Moira grabbed Nelson’s gun and fired blindly over and over. Unused to shooting, her body shook with the impact, and her shots went wide. Except for one.
Pain blazed across Gwen’s temple. “Motherfucker.” She aimed her Glock at Moira’s head, but Ezra’s body knocked Gwen to the ground before she could squeeze the trigger.
For the second time that day, her gun went skidding along the floor. As Ezra straddled her, she heard gunfire and then Moira screech, and she distantly wondered if Yvonne had shot her. But Gwen’s attention was on Ezra as she scratched at his face and fought him like a wildcat. His hand fisted her hair, and he rammed her head on the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. He reached up, grabbed a heavy ornament from the round antique table, and smashed it right over her head.
Without mercy, the wolf stabbed his claws deep into his sibling’s flank. He liked hearing his opponent’s yelp of pain. Liked seeing that pain in his eyes. In retaliation, his opponent bit hard into the wolf’s wounded ear.
The fight was fast and fierce. The wolf was brutal in his attack. Fury was in every vicious bite, every sharp lunge, every merciless swipe of his claws.
The wolf had fought his sibling before, but never like this. Never with the intent to kill. His sibling had not fought with honor then, and he did not do it now. Instead, he bit and clawed at the injuries the wolf had sustained in the battle with the trespassers. Fur already matted from blood, mud, and dirty water was now soaked with yet more blood.
The wolf’s chest heaved, breaths sawing in and out of him. Every heave made the deep rake wounds on his sides burn. The wolf was tired from battle, and the blood loss was beginning to slow him down. But the wolf would not submit. Would not be pinned down. He fought harder.
His sibling’s snarls and yelps filled his ears. The scent of their combined blood and rage filled his nostrils. There was something else he could scent: fear. It wafted from his opponent, inciting the wolf.
With a savage growl, his opponent tore a strip out of the wolf’s badly injured side. Agony blazed through the wolf. Made his knees buckle. But he pounced at his sibling again.
A bullet fired inside the house. The wolf’s heart jumped, and he froze. His sibling took advantage and lunged. Tried to wrap his paws around the wolf’s neck. But the wolf fought him off and swiped at his head. His claws raked over his opponent’s muzzle. Blood sprayed on the ground. The wolf bared his teeth in a feral smile as his sibling bounced back with a yowl.
Flattening his ears, his sibling sprang at him. They collided furiously. Brutally slashed and bit at each other. Teeth and claws tore through the wolf’s skin and scraped bone. Pain rippled through him, but he pushed it aside as more gunshots rang through the air.
His mate was in pain. He needed to reach her.
With a newfound strength, the wolf wrestled his sibling onto his back, pinned him flat, and clamped his jaws around his throat. He sank his teeth down hard. Panicking, his opponent swiped at his bleeding sides, struggling. But the wolf used his rear paw to tear open his opponent’s stomach and then clamped his jaws tighter around his throat.
Finally, his sibling’s body went lax beneath him. Dead.
A dark satisfaction flooded the wolf. But he didn’t take a moment to revel in victory. He needed to get to his mate.
He raced up the steps onto the porch and slammed his body at the door. Again. And again. And again. He heard his pack mates and allies howl as they came to join him. Finally, the door burst open. The wolf followed the sounds of a struggle. Bounded up the stairs.
More gunshots fired. The wolf kept vaulting up the staircase. He saw his mate. Saw the human “Ezra” straddling her. He was smashing something over her head over and over. The wolf heard the cracks, felt her pain, felt the darkness swallow her, and he slammed into the human with a furious growl.
The human screamed as the wolf savagely slashed and bit at him. The wolf did not stop. Not even when the human ceased screaming and the life left his body.
“Zander, I need you over here!”
The man inside the wolf battered at him, reminding him that his mate was in need. He fought for dominance, but the wolf refused to withdraw. He abandoned the dead human and padded to his mate’s side.
She lay very still. Eyes closed. Their connection was weak. Too weak. He licked at her face, trying to wake her. She did not move. Fear struck him hard.
He could feel and hear her heartbeat slowing. Could see and feel her breathing becoming shallower. The man within him was terrified and beating at the wolf, demanding him to withdraw. The wolf didn’t. He couldn’t leave his mate.
The human female who had raised his mate held her hand. “Ally’s gonna heal you, baby girl. Just hold on for us, okay?” She looked at the Seer. “Do what you can. Please. Don’t let her die.”
The Beta male spoke to the Seer. “Her head wounds are bad. He almost bashed in her fucking skull. Concentrate your healing energy there, Ally.”
The Seer looked at the wolf. “Zander, I need you to shift back. She’s barely hanging on here. You have to feed her your energy. I’m hurt and weak from healing other wounds—I’m not sure I can do this without your help.” Her voice cracked, sounding sad.
The words were foreign to the wolf, but he could see that the Seer was weak, could sense her panic, and knew what his mate needed. Bu
t the wolf couldn’t feed his mate his strength. Their bond was incomplete.
The man inside him was frantic, unsure of what to do. But the wolf wasn’t blinded by issues. Wasn’t knotted by emotions. He knew the problem. Knew he himself had held back from his mate out of fear. It shamed him. He pushed aside that fear now. It was easy, because he realized he feared being without her more than he feared the power she had over him.
Pain slammed into his head and chest. His vision darkened around the edges. As the pain faded, the man within him beat at the wolf so hard that the beast could fight him no longer.
Zander’s stomach bottomed out as he looked down at his mate. He felt the blood drain from his face. Felt an all-consuming terror wrap around his heart tight enough to stop it beating.
He knelt beside her, speechless. Blood poured from a wound on the side of her head, drenching and matting her hair. But even with all the blood, he could see that her skull had caved in. “Jesus. Shit. Holy fuck.” He scrubbed a shaking hand over his face. The panic within him swelled until his chest tightened and his lungs seemed to ache with the effort to breathe.
“Don’t go crazy on us, Zander,” said Bracken.
He couldn’t promise anything on that front. Rage and despair filled every part of him. He could feel Ally’s healing energy trickle through Gwen. Feel it soothe. But he didn’t feel it heal.
As Zander reached out to take Gwen’s hand, pain blasted through his shoulder. He’d forgotten his own injuries. They didn’t matter. He pushed the pain aside. It wasn’t important. She was important. Fixing the fucking skull that was caved in was important.
“Tell me you can heal that head wound, Ally,” he said, almost choking on the words. “Tell me you can do it.” Because he’d lose every bit of rationality left in him if she couldn’t make him that promise. He’d seen Ally heal many wounds, but nothing like that.
Ally licked her lips, nervous. “Honestly, I’ve never healed a wound that bad before.” Her voice shook. “That’s why I need you. Feed her energy.”
Squeezing Gwen’s hand, Zander shoved energy down their mating bond, too frantic to celebrate right then that it was finally fully formed. He fed her strength and bolstered the bond that was currently as fragile as she was. Her heartbeat was lazy and erratic. Her breathing was steady but so damn shallow that he wasn’t sure her lungs would keep working much longer.
The entire time, his pack mates and Yvonne alternated between whispering assurances to Zander and urging Gwen to hold on as they gathered around them. But the assurances didn’t work, because she didn’t seem to be healing. His raging wolf was in an absolute frenzy, clawing at Zander, demanding he do something.
Zander did all he could do—he kept on pushing energy down the mating bond, heart thudding in his chest, wishing he could do more. He did it over and over, until his head began to spin and darkness crept around his vision. He was weak from blood loss, but he couldn’t let that matter.
He’d never in his life felt fear like this. Hadn’t known such a level of hellish, incapacitating, debilitating terror existed. It flooded him. Choked him. Ate at him.
“You need to feed her strength, Zander,” Ally said urgently.
“I am,” he clipped. “It’s not making any fucking difference.” Every bit of energy he pumped into her seemed to fizzle out. The head wound didn’t seem to be improving, and her vitals were getting worse. At most, his and Ally’s efforts were keeping her alive . . . but only barely. The weaker Gwen got, the weaker the bond became. Right then, it was threadlike.
Zander was just as weak. He felt hollowed out, like he didn’t have much left to give. He suspected that the only thing keeping him conscious was the crazed terror that was like a band around his chest. “Why the fuck isn’t it working?” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“There are some things that even a healer can’t fix,” said Derren, voice low.
Zander shook his head at the softly delivered warning. No. Gwen wasn’t going to fucking die.
A crying Yvonne shot Derren a hard look. “She’ll live.”
“I’m gonna fix it,” Ally insisted, sniffling. “I am. I can.”
Derren rubbed her back. “Baby, you’re wiped.”
Ally shook him off. “I can do it.”
Derren looked at Zander, his expression sympathetic. “If I wasn’t feeding Ally my strength, she’d be unconscious right now. She’s not going to last much longer.”
Ally blinked back tears. “If Gwen were a shifter, it would be easier—she’d have accelerated healing, and that would help the process. But she’s human, so she doesn’t. All we can do is keep trying.”
Zander felt as Gwen’s heartbeat stuttered weakly. Panicked, he pushed a large pulse of energy down the bond so fast that he swayed. Light-headed, he blinked. He couldn’t afford to pass out; she needed him. His wolf snapped his teeth at him, urging him to stay awake, to hold their mate to them.
“Jesus,” breathed Bracken.
Tracking his gaze, Zander stared. What the fuck? Three people stood a few feet away, their eyes dull and concerned. Which would have been fine if they weren’t partly transparent. He noticed then that their clothes and hairstyles were old-fashioned.
Yvonne shot to her feet, glaring at them. “No, you don’t get to take her.” Her voice broke, and a sob caught in her throat. “You can’t have her.”
But one of the teenage . . . entities, ghosts, whatever the fuck it was . . . slowly came toward them, her eyes resting on Gwen. Yvonne went hysterical. Bracken, Jesse, and Harley started swearing. Frozen, Zander could only stare at the . . . whatever it was.
She walked right through Yvonne, but she didn’t go to Gwen. She went to Ally. Derren growled and pushed at her, which did absolutely nothing because his arm just went straight through her. The girl touched Ally’s head. The Seer’s hair went static, and her T-shirt ruffled, and the girl faded away . . . right along with the other two whatever-they-were.
Zander almost jumped as healing energy literally shot through Gwen. He was honestly surprised her back didn’t bow with the force of it.
Double-blinking, Ally inhaled deeply. “We can do this. We can. Hold her here, Zander.”
He held on to Gwen through their bond, giving her what little reserves he had left. His entire system seemed to shake with relief when her heartbeat picked up and her breathing improved. Their bond soon strengthened, and the color returned to her face. More important, the dent in her skull was gone.
Ally sat back. “She’ll be okay.” Then the Seer burst into tears and leaned into her mate, who held her close.
Zander slipped his arms under Gwen and gathered her to him, trying to keep his hold gentle when all he wanted to do was squeeze her tight. His hands were fucking trembling, and he knew his legs would have given in if he’d been standing.
Heat behind his eyelids, he buried his face in her neck and felt her pulse beat strong against his mouth. She was alive. She was with him.
He somehow swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. For a moment, when their bond had become so thin and fragile that he’d expected it to snap, he’d experienced a hint of the profound loneliness that would overwhelm him if he’d had to live without her. A hint of the emptiness that would have awaited him, that would have consumed him until there was nothing left for him. He couldn’t live without her, and if it wasn’t for Ally, he would have been forced to.
Zander looked up at Ally. “Thank you.” The words sounded like gravel.
She gave him a wan smile. “You’re welcome. Thank you for helping me help her.”
Zander turned back to Gwen, drinking in every detail of her face even though he knew it by heart. His wolf pushed against his skin, rubbing up against her and breathing her in. Zander felt Ally then put a hand on him, felt her healing energy flow through him, warm and soothing, but his eyes were locked on his mate.
“I really thought we’d lost her,” sobbed Yvonne, who kept stroking and kissing Gwen’s hair even as Zander cradled his
mate against him. She didn’t try to take her from him, which was a good thing because it wouldn’t have worked.
He felt Ally’s hand leave him, and he guessed she must have then used her skills on Yvonne, because he heard the woman release a gasp of wonder.
Moments later, Ally sighed. “I got nothing left.” And she slumped against Derren.
Jesse crouched next to Zander. “Come on. Me and Bracken will help you get back to the bedroom before you fall asleep right there.” Before pride could make Zander reflexively jut out his chin, Jesse snorted and said without heat, “Just suck it the fuck up, asshole.”
Too tired to argue, Zander sucked it up.
Eyes closed, Gwen stood under the hot spray. Shampoo bubbles and blood swirled together as they ran down the drain. It was the third time she’d shampooed her hair, and that seemed to be the last of the blood. Finally.
Nothing like your last memory being a large ornament getting smashed over your head.
As everything had started to go black, she’d known death was coming. She hadn’t had even a moment to think about what she would be leaving behind. The world had faded too fast. All she’d felt was a knowing that this was the end. And then she’d woken up. Thank fuck for that, because she couldn’t stand the thought of Zander being left alone.
He’d have senselessly blamed himself. Would have tormented himself about what he could or should have done differently. Worse, he wouldn’t have known that she loved him. He’d never have heard the words. And, hey, just because neither of them were people who liked soppy words didn’t mean she shouldn’t have told him.
Awake, she resolved that she’d tell him at some point that very day—she wouldn’t even let it bother her if he couldn’t say it back. She’d tell him because life was too damn short.
Hearing the shower door open, she turned as a naked Zander stepped into the stall. She smiled. “Good of you to shift back.” She’d woken on her bed next to a deep-sleeping wolf that was covered in blood and mud and that absolutely reeked. Still, she’d grinned, so fucking glad that he was okay.
Zander practically folded himself around her as he kissed her. Softly. Carefully. Like she was made of fine bone china. Yet, there was so much relief and desperation in the kiss—the emotions came from both her and him.