“I will—” I start to say when Grim groans. I lean over him, searching his face. “Grim, can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open, unfocused and confused. They roll slightly before finding mine.
“Wren?” His voice is hoarse and weak.
Relief crashes over me so powerfully that I sob. “Yes. Yes, it’s me. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Drake moves to his other side. “Hey, buddy. Welcome back.”
Grim blinks slowly, trying to focus. His gaze drifts between us, then down to where my hands are pressed against his leg. Confusion creases his brow.
“What…?” He tries to move, to push himself up.
“No!” I press down on his shoulder with one hand while keeping pressure on his thigh with the other. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. You need to stay still. You were badly injured.”
He winces, his face contorting in pain. “Everything hurts.”
“Understatement of the year,” I tell him.
“I hate being burned.” He closes his eyes briefly. “It’s the worst.”
“Worse than being shot?” I ask, trying to keep him talking, keep him conscious.
He actually manages a small nod. “Way worse.”
“You’ve been burned before?” I sound shocked because I am.
“Yes.” He nods. “Worse than this.”
I’m shocked into silence. I can’t imagine how that’s even possible, but the haunted look that flashes across his face tells me he’s not lying.
Drake uncaps one of the water bottles.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help.” He helps Grim, who downs half the bottle.
“Can you get up?” Drake asks. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.” Grim starts to push himself up.
“Absolutely not.” I glare at Drake. “Forget it. He needs to stay still, or the bleeding will start again. He’s lost too much blood already.”
“I’m fine.” Grim’s jaw sets.
“You’re not fine!” My voice rises. “You want me to list everything that’s wrong with you? Two gunshot wounds, one of which more than likely hit your femoral artery. Extensive second and third-degree burns covering at least fifteen percent of your body. Possible hypovolemic shock. Tachycardia. Hypotension. Signs of—”
“Wren.” Grim meets my eyes. “I’m a shifter. Not human. I’m already healing.”
“That’s not—”
“It might take a few days before I’m fully back to normal,” he continues, “but I will be. I promise. There won’t even be so much as a scar.”
I stare at him, my mouth open. A few days? He should be dead in a few hours, not healed in a few days. But the absolute certainty in his voice gives me pause.
Drake is already moving to Grim’s other side. “Come on. Let’s get you up.”
“This is insane.” But I ease back, letting Drake help Grim to a sitting position.
Grim grimaces, breathing hard through his teeth. Sweat beads on his forehead. But he doesn’t pass out or collapse back down.
