The wolf takes a few steps forward, then soundlessly shifts. In its place stands a naked older man.
He rushes over the last of the distance before kneeling at our side, uncaring that a panther is mere feet from him. I can’t see the man’s expression, but he must smell the blood on me. I’ve lost a lot, I think…
I don’t know what we must look like.
The man leans into the girl’s neck and breathes in her scent. Whatever he smells causes him to whine. Then he leans over and scents me as well, his nose tickling my skin. Nero growls again but doesn’t do anything else. I hear another whine come from the man, this one slightly different.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I don’t think so, but I don’t bother admitting that.
Instead, I reach out and grope in the darkness for his hand. When I find it, I give it a squeeze.
I swallow, beating back the darkness that keeps clouding my vision.
“They tried…to…bind her,” I whisper. I feel a pressing need to get this story out now, in case more people come for me and the girl. “She was…drugged… Did…my best…to…get her…here.” I keep having to pause to catch my breath. Everything hurts so damn bad. Even pushing out words. And my vision keeps clouding. I think. It’s so dark. I don’t know. Confused.
The girl, I remind myself.
“Please…” I say, squeezing the shifter’s hand, “get her…to safety…before they…come back.”
“Who? Who’s coming back?”
I try to speak again, but I’m so tired. So, so tired.
I think I drift a little, but I rouse again when I hear the shifter howl, the sound of it raising my gooseflesh. I crack my eyes open—when did they close?—and see the girl is in his arms.
“Thank you for protecting Cara,” he says, and oh, he’s talking to me.
I try to sharpen my focus.
“I’m going to send some pack mates over here,” he continues. “We’ll get you healed and taken care of. Just hold tight.” That last part sounds a bit like a plea, and I understand why a second later.
The shifter retreats into the darkness, carrying the girl.
I should feel terrified of being left alone, weak as I am. But Nero is beside me, and I know he’s keeping watch. Between that and my relief that the girl is now back with her pack, I let the darkness take me once more.
It seems like only minutes later when my sleep is interrupted again. I hear the heavy crunch of pine needles as someone approaches.
One of the shifters, I remind myself.
The footsteps halt when they get to me.
“Only fools and warriors pass out under an open sky. Reckless woman, you are a bit of both.”
I jolt when I hear the voice, forcing my eyes open. In the darkness, I can barely make out Memnon’s features, but it’s him.
How did you find me? I want to ask him, but I’m so tired, and I know if I try to speak—if I dare move at all—then my various wounds will start waking up with me.
We are soul mates. I can always find you.
He reaches out and brushes the hair from my face. It’s…nice. I let my eyes drift closed and enjoy the sensation of his fingers on me. Now that I’m vulnerable, I can admit to myself that Memnon’s very presence makes me feel safe.
His hand retreats from my hair, and I hate that his touch is gone. And then I think I’m supposed to hate that I hate that, but fuck, I’m too tired to bother caring at this point.
Hands slide under my body. Even that slight jostling has me moaning as my injuries flare to life.
“It’s all right, little witch. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
The moment he lifts me fully into his arms, it feels like I’m being attacked all over again. I cry out as pain lacerates across my body.
Memnon curses under his breath. “Ease the pain from within,” he utters.
His magic seeps into me from that point over my heart. Almost immediately, the pain dissolves. I want to laugh; it feels so good not to hurt. But I’m so tired. Even more so now that I have a true break from the pain.
Memnon begins to walk, and I lean my head into the crook of his arm, nestling into his chest.
“My flawless queen, my exquisite mate,” he murmurs, and for once I really don’t take issue with the terms he’s calling me. “What heart you have.”
I don’t think we’ve traveled very far when Memnon pauses, adjusting his grip so he can use one of his hands to feel where my clothes touch his. I don’t really know what he’s doing, not until he holds his fingers up, rubs them together, then touches them to his tongue.