It’s beentwo days since Raven fell from the sky. Two days of watching her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, two days of counting heartbeats and wondering if she’ll wake up. I lie on the bed, shifted in my blink hound form, using my massive body to support her back. My fur is warm against her cool skin, and I can feel every breath she takes vibrating through both our bodies.
The doctors came in yesterday and fully wrapped the wounded wing closed—a cocoon of white bandages that smell like medicinal herbs and something sharper, more chemical. They applied ointments and padding between the delicate bone fingers before adding additional support to the main bone. I watched every moment, memorizing each wrap and twist of fabric in case I need to help her later.
There’s a moan—soft, pained—and Raven shifts a little. I hear her wince; the sound cuts through me like a blade, and turn my massive head to look at her. My blink hound eyes see everything in sharp detail. The way her face contorts with pain, the flutter of her eyelashes, the slight tremor in her lips. I bark once, loud and urgent, the sound echoing off the bedroom walls.
I need to get the others in here fast.
“Who’s there?” Raven’s voice is rough, scratchy from disuse. She turns her head to look over her shoulder at me, and I can see confusion clouding her sapphire eyes.
Gently, I lay my massive head over her body to keep her still, my weight distributed carefully so I don’t hurt her but firm enough that she can’t move and injure herself further. My fur must feel strange against her skin—coarse and warm and very much not human. The guys enter the room, skidding to a stop on the hardwood floor. Theirscents hit me all at once—Corvis’s freshly baked bread and cedar, Hemlocke’s wild meadow smell.
Raven’s eyes shift to her dragon’s, the brilliant sapphire blue deepening to something primal and otherworldly. The color almost steals my breath away—like looking into the heart of a glacier, ancient and powerful. She double-blinks asrecognitionflashes in her eyes, pushing through the confusion and pain medication haze.
Her hand reaches out for my head, movements slow and deliberate. When she rests it on me, fingers tangling in my thick fur, it’s like a force of nature washing over me. The sensation is indescribable—warmth and light and acceptance flooding through every nerve ending. The beast that’s been clawing at my insides. The blink hound that’s been demanding blood and violence and protection, stops trying to tear me limb from limb.
My mind, for once, goes silent.
The constant howling, the endless pacing, the territorial rage that’s been my companion for weeks—all of it quiets beneath her touch. Her fingers are gentle as they stroke through my fur. I can feel her pulse through her palm, steady and strong despite her injuries.
“Keir?” she whispers, and hearing my name from her lips makes something in my chest crack open. “You’re a blink hound?”
I can’t respond in this form, can’t tell her yes, can’t explain the months of watching and protecting and falling hopelessly in love with her from the shadows. So I do the only thing I can—I press my muzzle against her shoulder carefully, mindful of her injuries, and let out a soft whine that carries everything I can’t say.
Her fingers tighten in my fur. “You saved me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nod my massive head anyway, careful not to jostle her wing. Behind us, I can hear Corvis and Hemlocke moving closer, their footsteps soft on the floor.
“He hasn’t left your side since we brought you here,” Corvis says, his voice rough with emotion. “He’s been supporting your wing, keeping you warm. The doctors said his body heat has been helping with the healing.”
Raven’s hand continues to stroke through my fur, the motion soothing us both. “Thank you,” she whispers, and I feel her gratitude like a physical touch against my soul.
The beast inside me settles completely, curling up in contentment for the first time in my life. This is where I belong—beside her, protecting her, being accepted by her despite everything I am.
My mind remains blissfully, peacefully silent.
Chapter 38
Raven
They saythe fall is the worst part.
I can say from experience it’s the sudden stop at the end that’s the killer. The memory of impact flashes through me—water like concrete, air forced from my lungs, the sickening crack of bone. The guys help me sit up, and Keir moves around the room in his blink hound form. He looks like a Great Dane in height, with a lion’s coloring—tawny gold and cream—and maybe a dragon in the way bony spines jut out of his back, starting at the base of his skull and running down to his tail. Each spine catches the light, sharp and dangerous.
“I’m hungry...” I force out, my voice still rough and scratchy. Keir vanishes—or should I correctly say he blinks out of existence. One moment he’s there; the next, the space where he stood is just empty air.
“I guess we know how he moved around so easily through the apartment.” Corvis laughs and shakes his head before he kisses me. His lips are warm, and he tastes like freshly baked bread and safety.
“He feels bad that his presents upset you.” Hemlocke says as he moves close to kiss my lips gently, offering me a cup of warm bone broth. The steam carries a rich scent of marrow and herbs. His pink eyes are soft with concern. “Before you ask, Isolde is home safe and sound. She’s uninjured.” Hemlocke spits out before I can ask.
Keir appears a heartbeat later with a grease-stained bag of fried chicken that smells like french fries and salt and exactly what I need. “You need protein. The doctor said you’d heal faster with protein.” He holds out the bag of food with a hopeful smile that transforms his entire face.
I never really looked at Keir before—truly looked. He has that guy-next-door look to him. Floppy, sandy brown hair the same color as his blink hound fur. It’s shaved tight to his head on the sides, but the top is long with a natural wave to it. His skin is golden brown, like he spends time in the sun, and his eyes are storm gray—like angry thunderclouds rolling across the sky, always moving, always churning. “Eat with me?”
Corvis moves and sets up pillows to brace my wing...my wing.I turn to stare at it, and the tears come before I can stop them. They roll down my cheeks, hot and unchecked. It appears to be mummified—wrapped in so many layers of white bandages I can barely see the black leather beneath. My mouth works several times, trying to form words, but I can’t spit them out. A dragon without the skies is not a dragon at all.
I’m grounded.
Helpless.
