I faded in and out, never once opening my eyes, even when I felt someone’s hands on my face, another set holding my head in place.
Somewhere in the darkness, I stared into Seamus’s wide, scared eyes. When I opened my mouth, no sound came out. We just looked at each other, both of us terrified.
Chapter 14
Daniel
“Idon’t know,” Aunt Alice told me for the fiftieth time, her voice less patient than it had been hours before. “Once she’s awake, I can check.”
“She’s already healing,” I said desperately, running my hand down Rosemary’s arm. “That’s good, right?”
“Of course it is,” Alice replied. She turned away and walked back to the other bed where Dalton’s youngest son, Seamus, lay.
The boy had survived the surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage. The bullet had entered through the front, but lodged extremely close to his spine. He hadn’t woken up, but they knew he would—and thanks to his genetics, he’d be fine. His mother sat in a chair next to his head, her hand on his shoulder. Dalton sat at the foot. Their sons had fallen asleep on the floor just as the sun rose. The younger one’s head was pillowed by Thunder’s torso. The dog’s snores were oddly pleasant in the silent room.
Alice had worked all night, patching the rest of us up. I realized after we’d finished with Rosemary that I’d been slowed down by two bullets in my thigh. I’d barely paid any attention asAlice had dug them out and sewn me up, watching Rosemary’s slow and even breaths.
My father had taken a bullet in the chest. Ambrose had a large cut down the side of his stomach. Beau had dislocated three fingers and had a graze wound up the side of his forearm.
All of us were exhausted.
My body didn’t even feel like my own. Every muscle ached. The stitches on my thigh barely registered, because everything hurt anyway. It was worse than the mating heat, which had dissipated. That ache had felt clean somehow, purposeful—this ache felt dirty and wrong.
My hands hadn’t stopped shaking.
By the time we’d gotten to the house, Rosemary had been pretty out of it. Alice had already been finishing up on Seamus, and it hadn’t taken her long to rescrub and get started on my mate, but it had felt like forever.
When we’d taken off her pants, I’d finally seen the damage that the bullet in her hip had caused. A large-caliber round had torn through the muscle. Without the pressure of her waistband, the blood had been hard to contain.
I didn’t know how she’d stayed on her feet.
I didn’t know how she’d even been awake.
Alice had managed to staunch that bleeding first, her hands moving over my mate with speed and expertise that I’d never equal, no matter how long I’d lived.
Then she’d moved to Rosemary’s shoulder.
She’d cursed the entire time.
There was so much damage that she wasn’t sure how much function Rosemary would have in her arm.
My mate, who could take me down like it was nothing, who climbed like Spiderman and flipped an old tractor tire when she felt overwhelmed, may never be able to do those things again.
The scar that would bisect my mate’s cheek for the rest of our lives felt inconsequential in comparison.
“How’s he doin’?” Gary asked Dalton, wheeling himself slowly into the room.
“No change,” Dalton replied tiredly.
“Not a bad thing,” Gary replied gruffly as he passed the Vampire. “Means he’s not any worse.”
“I’ll take it,” Dalton mumbled.
“How’s my girl?” Gary asked, stopping at the foot of Rosemary’s bed.
“Still sleeping,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
Gary grimaced as he looked her over. “She’ll be all right.”
