Savage Urges (The Phoenix Pack, #5)(96)

Her eyes closed again, and Ryan’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Kenna, look at me.” She didn’t. He shook her. “Open your eyes.” Her sluggish heartbeat stuttered and their bond began to wink out. “No.”

Hands yanked at him. “Get the f*ck off me!” They didn’t. They pulled at him, ignoring his efforts to fight them off, and dragged him away. He couldn’t get back to her, couldn’t fight them; he’d pumped most of his strength into Makenna and wasn’t able to—

“Easy, Ryan! Just give her some room! If you want your mate to live, give her some room!”

He stilled, only then noticing Ally squatting beside his mate. The Seer could heal, he remembered. Derren and Dante released him, and his knees nearly buckled.

“Don’t let her die,” Madisyn hissed at Ally.

Hands on Makenna’s stomach, Ally looked at him. “You’re going to have to help me, Ryan; she’s hanging on by a thin thread.”

Ryan went back to his mate and held her hand, trying to push what little strength he had left into her, whether it knocked him unconscious or not. But the bond was too weak to take it.

Ally’s eyes stayed closed as she did . . . whatever the hell she did. Unlike when Taryn healed, the wound didn’t glow. He couldn’t tell what the f*ck was happening. It was only when Makenna’s heartbeat steadied that hope trickled through him. He tightened his grip on her hand as her pulse quickened and their bond strengthened.

Pale as a ghost, Ally sat back. “She lost a lot of blood, so she’ll be unconscious for a little while, but she’s gonna be okay.” Then the Seer slumped . . . right into Derren’s waiting arms.

Ryan scooped up Makenna and cradled her tight against him. God, he was f*cking shaking. It actually hurt to breathe. His lungs burned and his throat felt clogged up. It didn’t matter that he could feel that she was alive; fear still had him in a tight grip, and it wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Breathing her in, he kissed her forehead and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. His wolf was still pacing, unable to relax in the belief that she was okay. Madisyn and Dawn, faces red and puffy, were still at her other side. Ryan knew they probably wanted to hold her, but he couldn’t let go. Hearing her heart beat steady and strong was really the only thing keeping him and his wolf stable at that moment.

“Ally had a vision that Makenna would be shot,” said Derren. “I’m glad we got here in time.”

They almost hadn’t, but Ryan wouldn’t let himself dwell on that. He gave Derren a nod of thanks, unable to speak while a knot of emotion was lodged in his throat. Ryan owed Ally more than he could ever repay.

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Shit, the battle on our territory!”

Dante dug out his cell phone. “In case the others are still fighting, I’ll call Grace and ask what’s happening.” He then faded from the crowd to make the call.

“When we left, it was starting to settle down and things were going in our favor,” said Marcus. “Most of the wolves actually retreated pretty quickly. They’d expected an easy defeat. The sight of us with so much backup threw them. And they started to panic when they realized there were trip wires and land mines on the territory.”

Jaime inhaled deeply. “Any casualties on our side?”

“Trick nearly had his throat ripped out. Dominic came very close to dying while defending Eli.” Eli was Nick’s brother and Head Enforcer. “They’re okay, though. Taryn healed them.”

Dante returned to Jaime’s side. “It was Rhett who answered. Grace was busy tending wounds. The battle’s over. And Zac’s old Alpha is being held captive in the hut.” Dante looked at Ryan. “Everyone figured that kill was yours.”

Still not trusting himself to speak, Ryan inclined his head.

Jaime let out a long breath. “Let’s see who needs help here and then go home.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE





Makenna woke to the feeling of warm lips on her stomach. Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open. Lying on top of her, Ryan had pushed up the long T-shirt she was wearing and was kissing where her gunshot wound should have been. But there was no wound, no bandage, not a spot of blood on her body. She frowned. She had been shot, right?

“Ally healed you,” said Ryan, feeling her confusion. He was so relieved she’d finally woken that a breath shuddered out of him. “She had a vision that you were shot.” There was no evidence of it now. Only unmarred velvet-smooth skin. He couldn’t help remembering the warm blood flowing between his fingers and pooling beneath her. Fuck, she’d almost died right in front of him. When he thought about it too much, his chest would tighten and his throat would start to close.

She stroked his head, sensing his distress. “How long was I out?”

He slipped his arms beneath her and held her tight. “Nine hours.” It was the longest nine hours of his life. Not once had she stirred—not even when he’d stripped and washed her before dressing her in one of his tees.

She scowled as she remembered something. “Your jaw was swollen and you had gashes on your forehead.”

“They healed. None of my wounds were serious.” Unlike hers. He rubbed his jaw against her stomach. “I was scared.” It seemed okay to admit that to her. “You were slipping away from me. I could feel it. But there was nothing for me to grab on to.” Her soul wasn’t a physical thing. “No way for me to make you stay.”