Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(21)

Obviously braced for her to ask the opposite, Donal gave her a nonplussed stare.

Gawain chuckled. “Never underestimate a female.”

Still holding her leg, Owen studied her, his brows pulled into a line.

“All right, Darcy. Since you’re ready…” The healer examined the ugly hole in her calf, and his expression darkened.

She could see the skin around it was crimson and puffy. Red streaks of infection extended upward. “I’m ready.”

After the healer cleaned the hole out, the true torture started.

As Donal used forceps to dig for the bullet, fire erupted in her leg, and she clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. Sweat broke out on her face, tears ran down her face, and she…endured.

“Almost…” With a pleased sound, the healer pulled out the forceps and dropped the bullet onto the instrument table. “By the Mother, you’re a brave female. Didn’t even try to claw me.”

“She is brave, isn’t she?” Gawain released her and ran his hands up and down her arms.

At her feet, Owen studied her.

He’d been so brave, had drawn off the dogs, had run for the truck on a broken foreleg. And she was sitting here bawling. Sit up and act like an adult, tinker. With a shaky breath, she wiped her face.

“One more minute, and I’ll have this closed.” Donal bent his head, his hands on either side of her leg wound, and she stared as the hole filled with tissue, as the skin grew over the hole.

Donal straightened, ran his finger over the slightly dented, shiny pink skin, and scowled. “I’m sorry, lass. This one will have a scar.”

“Sorry?” She stared. “I’m alive. You got the bullet out and closed the hole. What do I care about scars?”

Owen’s gaze met hers, his surprise obvious.

Not noticing, Donal laughed. “You’re a prize, my sweet. Now, since healing takes a toll, you’ll be sleepy for another day, tired for a week. You can—and should—trawsfur to cat and back. Since the repaired tissue remains fragile for a few days, take it easy. You’re underweight, so eat more, especially meat. Am I clear?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You sound like Calum’s Vicki.”

The scary Cosantir had a mate? Her mind boggled at the thought. The female was probably over six feet tall, hugely muscled, and as scary as Calum himself. Maybe the female was a grizzly shifter or—

The Cosantir walked in, and Darcy flushed, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something embarrassing. Calum’s gaze ran over her, and he glanced at the healer. “Donal, are you finished?”

“Almost. There’s just this mess on her thigh.” He poked at it, making her wince, and clucked his tongue. “Were you in a knife fight? Why did someone stab you several times in the same spot?”

“I stabbed myself. There was a GPS tracker in my leg, and I couldn’t find it at first.” Yawning, she sagged against Gawain. As her fear waned, so did her energy. Somehow, the table had turned into quicksand, pulling her down into its softness.

As her eyes closed, she heard Owen ask, “A tracker. Is that something they could use to locate you?”

“Mmmhmm. I removed it and the one in my arm and smashed them with a rock.”

She felt the healer’s fingers run over the wound, and pain flared. “There’s nothing in there now.” Heat tingled deep in her thigh muscles, moving outward as he healed the sliced flesh.

“I need to find the shifter-soldiers. To tell them…” Her thoughts drifted away despite her attempts to cling to them. “I need to find them.”

“Check for other surprises,” the Cosantir said quietly.

The healer ran his hands over her, head to toes. “Help me turn her over, cahir.”

She was slid down on the table and rolled over. They were being very careful not to hurt her. Wasn’t that lovely?

Light hands ran over her scalp. Her neck, shoulders, and down. “Nothing else, Calum. I’ll check on her tomorrow, but I’m done for today.”

“Excellent. Owen, Gawain, please take Darcy to the Wildwood Lodge. Zeb and Shay have a room for her in the main cabin.”

“Aye, Cosantir.” That was Gawain’s smoother voice. Owen made only a sound of assent.

Donal cleared his throat. “Cosantir, save me some work and order your cahir to take a few days of rest. At the lodge, not his cabin. His broken wrist and the new wound need time to heal—and he’s more stubborn than a boggart spotting salt.”

Calum huffed a laugh. “You heard the healer, cahir. Consider that an order.”

Darcy thought Owen’s rude response wasn’t nearly as muffled as it should have been considering he was answering a Cosantir.

She tried to open her eyes to see how the guardian had reacted to being snarled at, but…someone had tied boulders to her eyelids. That was discourteous. Honestly, she needed to get on her feet. To find Fell and Patrin. To help…

Her thoughts faded away like mist dissipated by a warm sun.





Chapter Five





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By the God, Calum had a nerve, ordering him to stay in Cold Creek. Growling under his breath, Owen led the way up the stairs in the Wildwood Lodge. Behind him, Gawain carried the female—the one who had caused all this fucking trouble.