“That’s some double bluff, doc.”
Devan hummed and began the painstaking process of dripping sap onto Bomber’s wounds. “It takes more than flesh to make us whole, so I guess we’ll see, eh?”
Bomber didn’t answer. Pain overwhelmed him, and he passed out. Devan was glad of it, though the concentration it was going to take to heal him was a huge risk. Without Bomber’s eyes watching Devan’s back, anyone could come up on them.
Focus. Devan sealed Bomber’s wounds and searched the ground for any scraps of flesh and bone he could use to create a permanent fix. It was a gruesome task but necessary.
He gathered what he needed and returned to where Bomber was slumped, face grey, lips turning blue.We’re out of time. Devan laid hands on the very worst injuries and closed his eyes. Magic filled his veins. Warmth spread through him, different to the heat he felt every moment Zio was near, but no less potent. No less the essence of his entire existence.
The world as he knew it faded. Devan couldn’t say how long he would sit with Bomber like this. Time ceased to matter. Life, death... only Bomber’s mattered. Energy flowed from his fingertips, magic warring with anatomy. The natural and the supernatural. Bomber’s wolf accepted Devan’s helping hand, but his human form rejected it over and over, until heartbeat by heartbeat, Devan won.
He opened his eyes. Though Bomber was still unconscious, colour had returned to his face and his leg. Though it would never be whole, it was healed, the stump smooth and marred only by scars that would fade with time. Devan slumped forwards, exhausted, but before he could give in to the fatigue washing over him, a panicked bark startled him back to life.
Devan spun around. Mere feet away, wolves fought for their lives in the dirt. Devan shielded Bomber with his body as the northern wolf closest to them held his ground. More wolves entered the sunken clearing created by the earlier explosion. The brindle male Devan knew to be Michael reached them. He sniffed Bomber and nudged Devan’s shoulder, the message in his flinty gaze clear:I’ve got him.
The northern wolves in the clearing were winning. Devan locked gazes with Michael, and the wolf jerked his head east. An hour ago, Devan would’ve had to guess to interpret his meaning, but in that short space of time, their blossoming pack connection had forged a deeper bond with Devan’s powers. Now he understood without question.Go. Others need you.
Devan shot back the way he’d come with Bomber’s team, leaving a part of himself on the ground with the young wolf who would never be the same. But his grief and worry for the wolves behind him had nothing on the growing fear of what he’d find when he reached the end of the scent trail he’d picked up with no conscious thought. Zio’s scent had consumed him for weeks, but with every step he took, a new desperation took hold within him.
He needs me. Even if Zio didn’t know it yet—because, gods, Devan could sense his pugnacious temper a mile out from the furious fight he could hear in the distance.
The route Zio’s team had taken was rockier than the path west and more exposed. With no trees to swing through, Devan leapt boulders and scaled chalky cliffs. As he got closer to the fighting, Zio’s emotions changed. A rush of uncertainty and fear tainted his vengeful anger.
Devan scrambled up another cliff face. On the ground, dead wolves were everywhere, but he didn’t stop to check who they were or who they belonged to, instinct driving him on through a small copse of trees and into a moonlit glade that might’ve been beautiful if not for the violence tearing it apart.
So much blood.
The scent of savagery had been Devan’s constant companion for days. Nausea churned with exhaustion even supernatural strength couldn’t mask. His legs wavered, and he started to fall, but before his knees touched the ground, a low whine broke through the fog, pushing him down. Devan rallied and staggered to his feet, hand flying to his chest as the ache there burnt his soul.He’s hurt.
Heart in his mouth, Devan ran harder than he’d ever run before, feet barely touching the ground, but with every step came certainty that he wasn’t going to get there in time. An overgrown path led to a stile, and then a long-abandoned sand processing plant. In the potholed yard, three wolves advanced on Zio. Outnumbered, Zio whined again, foreleg hanging limp and useless, blood dripping from his mouth.
More pain lanced Devan’s chest. Zio was badly injured and too weak to move the earth beneath him. If the enemy wolves reached him before Devan, he wouldn’t survive.
No. The vicious snarl in Devan’s mind came from a part of him he didn’t recognise. It rumbled through him, bringing with it bright light that blinded him to all else but getting to Zio. A chain reaction burst to life, instincts he’d fought for so long breaking free with a growl that echoed in the vast yard.
Devan hurdled a fallen tree and leapt into the fray, shifting with a singular thought in his mind. A vow. A declaration that he could never take back.
Mine.
Chapter Sixteen
Zio woke up backed against a wall, crumpled in his human form. He tasted blood on his tongue, but his shattered jaw was fixed. His ribs and legs too. He tried to sit up, but a paw large enough to span his chest pushed him down.
Breath caught in his throat. He looked up and met a bright blue gaze that was so familiar he wanted to cry, but at the same time, that of a stranger.Devan.
But was it? Zio had never seen his shifted form before, and the huge white tiger pinning him down was fucking terrifying.
Zio’s hands reached out of their own accord to touch the big cat. Soft white fur awaited them, and beneath, corded muscles that made even Varian seem like a household pet.
The tiger growled. Zio snatched his hands back, but the beast wasn’t looking at him, gaze trained instead over his shoulder.
Zio peered around him and gasped at the sight of a dozen bodies, all of them enemy wolves. He reached again for the tiger and buried his face in the fur that of course smelt of Devan.He saved me.
A violent shudder passed through Zio as he recalled his last moments of consciousness. How three wolves had become four, and then five... more. He’d pictured his own death. Resigned himself to it. Then something had changed. A burst of energy had rippled around the derelict yard, and the wolves were gone. He didn’t remember the tiger, only the peace that had washed over him when its scent had reached him. Somehow, he’d felt... safe.
Zio sucked in greedy breaths of Devan’s enhanced scent, gorging himself until he was drunk enough on it to think clearly. He looked around Devan again to see more wolves had joined them, a handful of soldiers, Danielo taking point.
He relaxed, but Devan was still growling, poised to attack. “Hey.” Zio rubbed Devan’s shoulder. “It’s Danielo. You know him. He’s pack.”