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.
And then everything stopped. Misty dragged in a long breath that seemed to come from the ends of the atmosphere, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing for the last . . . however long it had been.
As soon as Misty exhaled and blinked, the cubs went into paroxysms of joy, dancing in circles, yipping, tails moving rapidly.
Misty found herself drenched but realized it was with sweat. The sheet was soaked with it, and so was the big T-shirt she was wearing. Not hers.
The runes on Sean’s sword, still in his hand, flashed out once, then went dark. Andrea was up, her hand on Misty’s forehead, her face relaxing. “It’s gone,” Andrea said. “I don’t see the spell anymore.”
Graham unfolded himself like a huge bear coming to life, his eyes silver white and wild. He wrapped his arms around Misty, picking her up away from Andrea, gathered her against him, and buried his face in her neck.
Misty held his shaking body, both of them rocking a little. “It’s all right,” Misty said softly, stroking him. “I’m here.”
Graham lifted his head. The relief in his eyes went a long way down, along with pain and stark terror. He drew a breath.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he roared in his loudest voice. “Going for the sword like that?”
Misty closed her eyes, sinking into exhaustion. “Love you too, Graham,” she murmured, and hugged him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next morning, Sean made everyone pancakes, which he’d assured Graham were famous. Graham never thought he’d see the day he’d let a Feline into his kitchen to cook for him, but times were strange.
But nothing mattered anymore. Misty was alive. That was all he needed. Graham’s heart lightened when she came into the kitchen, looking tired but rested. Bandages bulked up her side under her tank top, but other than that, she moved with a sure step.
The cubs, in little boy form again, were happy to see her too—that is, when they could lift their faces from their plates of pancakes.
Andrea had been explaining that while Misty was healed once again, and she’d closed up Graham’s wound, he was still under Oison’s thrall.
“But you took the magic out of me, right?” Misty said, sliding into the empty place at the table. “Can’t you take it out of him?”
Andrea shook her head as she wrapped her hands around her cup of coffee. Andrea was a Lupine, a gray-eyed wolf who had agreed to mate with Sean, a Feline, in exchange for a safe move to a new Shiftertown. Somewhere along the way, the two had found the mate bond.
“The magic dust my father gave me counteracted whatever Fae magic touched you from the sword,” Andrea said to Misty. “Graham’s a different case. He’s under a complete Fae spell that seeks to control every aspect of him. I knit up his wound, but I couldn’t break the spell. I don’t have that kind of power, and my father doesn’t either. The magic that entered you, Misty, was incidental. The Fae is not after you.”
“Just Graham,” Misty said. She looked across the table at Graham, unhappy.
“Not just me.” Graham rejoiced that Misty was here to look at him at all, even with sadness and worry. Her brown eyes were free of pain, her face pink with health. “All Shifters.”
Sean said from the stove, “Liam told me about the connection between Oison’s sword and your Collar. I agree, we need to get the Collars off if the Fae have a big ‘enslave the Shifters’ plan. But, unfortunately, it's going slowly. The element we need to remove the Collars safely is rare. That’s why the research.”
“Yeah, I know,” Graham growled. “Why do anything when you can think about it for years, have meetings about it, talk about it?” He pinned Misty with a stare. “Too much damned talking.”