Wild Wolf (Shifters Unbound, #6)(60)

A faint ting as metal touched metal. Then a touch on Misty’s side. She cried out, cringing away, as pain intensified.

“What are you doing?” Graham said immediately.

“Calm down.” Andrea’s voice again. “I can see the spells. They’re complex, a mesh. It will take a bit for me to untangle them.”

“Just do it,” Graham rumbled.

“She will,” the Irishman said. “Stop interrupting.”

Graham made another noise of impatience, but he subsided. He must be truly worried if he actually shut up.

Misty felt the cold of animal noses touching her arm. Little noses. Two of them. She wanted to smile, but couldn’t move.

And then more pain. Misty started to scream. She heard the sounds come out of her throat, hoarse and cracked. Another touch, this one Graham’s big, rough-skinned hand holding hers.

“Easy,” Graham said, so gently Misty was surprised it was he who spoke. “Easy, now.”

Misty tried to lie still, but the pain pulled her. She writhed, only to find Graham’s warm strength holding her down.

“Poor lady,” Sean said.

Andrea drew a breath. “Ready.”

“Aye, love.”

Did that mean they hadn’t started? Dear God, how much more could Misty take?

She forced her eyes open a crack. Sitting beside her bed was a dark-haired woman with gray eyes and a lovely face. She had one hand on Misty’s side, the other wrapped around the blade of a sword that looked much like Oison’s. Misty saw the runes on the silver metal, which began to glow.


The sword’s hilt was held by a man with black hair and very blue eyes. He had his arm around Andrea, his free hand resting over hers on Misty.

Andrea closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drawing in another breath. Sean kept his hand steady on Andrea’s.

Graham lay half on top of Misty, his short hair tickling her chin. His hard hands held her arms in place. The wolf cubs were beside Misty’s head, peering worriedly into her face.

It’s all right, Misty wanted to reassure them. But she wasn’t certain it would be.

Another wave of pain, white-hot. She thought she was being sliced in half. The screams came again. Graham tightened his grip on her, and one of the cubs whimpered and licked her cheek.

Andrea’s head went farther back, her eyes moving as though she watched something behind her lids. “Now, Sean,” she whispered.

Sean removed his hand from Andrea’s. He reached for something out of Misty’s line of sight, then clamped what felt like a poultice to Misty’s side, Andrea at the last minute moving her hand to rest it now on top of Sean’s.

Misty thought she was dying. The agony reached a peak, beyond which there was no feeling. After a very long time, she heard Graham again, his voice harsh. “It’s not working.”

“Patience,” Sean said, but Andrea drew a breath.

“He’s right,” she said.

I don’t want to hear that, Misty thought frantically. I want everyone surprised but happy I’m alive.

“Move.” Graham again, his weight rocking Misty. “Let me.”

“No, you don’t know—” Sean began, but Graham cut him off.

“Tell me what to do. What is this stuff?”

Andrea answered. “Fae . . . medicine.”

“Yeah, don’t reassure me. Why is it hurting her so much?”

“The Fae magic in her is fighting it,” Andrea answered. “It’s strong.”

“I’m stronger.” Graham’s voice was rough, breathy. “Misty, love.” He wrapped his hard fingers around hers. “Hold on to me. Tight as you can. And fight. Fight it for me, sweetheart.”

Misty had no strength to fight. Nothing. She didn’t want to die, but right now living was so, so tiring.

Graham’s large hand went to her side, and he pressed a cloth filled with something over the sword cut. Misty half sat up, trying to scream again, but her voice had gone. Her vision was blurred, but she saw Andrea and Sean collapsed onto a couch pulled to the bed, holding each other. Matt and Kyle sat up next to Misty, anxious, two pairs of wolf cub eyes fixed on her.

Graham was merciless. His eyes were the light gray of his wolf’s, determined, angry. He pressed her side, holding Misty down while she tried to wrench herself away from the pain.

“Hang on, baby,” Graham said. “I know it hurts. You can kick my ass later. But hang on.”

Misty clamped down on his hand, clinging to it as though it was a lifeline. Graham forced whatever it was into her wound, the pain searing, something hot rushing to her heart. She couldn’t hold it in—her heart would burst, and Misty would die.

Through the pain, a small dart of warmth touched her chest. The tiniest piece, and yet it was something outside the pain, something to focus on.

She heard Graham draw a sharp breath, saw his gaze go to the middle of her chest, as though he knew what she felt. He looked down at his own chest, and his look turned startled.

Misty had no idea why. Was he feeling what she felt? Was that possible? But strange things had been happening all day. Night. Whatever time it was.

The piece of warmth suddenly flooded her chest, spreading, widening, burning through her to engulf the pain from the wound. Her body seared hot, hotter . . . hotter than she could stand.