Twice.
Three times.
Then I fling the weapon behind the bed and rush back to Salt, who has dropped to his knees and is already tipping backward, about to collapse onto the floor.
I catch him. Panic floods me as my eyes race over his body.
One bullet seems to have passed through his left lung.
Another probably hit his side, grazing his ribs. I heard three shots, so in terror I slide my hand to his abdomen, convinced there must be another wound there, but I don’t find an entry hole.
Moments later I locate it. The bullet passed almost under his arm, tearing through his pectoral muscle near the armpit.
Our eyes meet. The smell of blood fills my nostrils, mine and his.
Salt opens his mouth, and I freeze when I see blood there. I remember what Anzo once told me, blood in the mouth means certain death.
As I stare at his lips, I see them shape a single word.
At first I don’t understand it, then it hits me.
"Joining."
He must see the shock on my face, because he nods firmly and his lips move again. He repeats the word. His hand, the one on the side that wasn’t shot through the armpit, grabs my shoulder and yanks me closer.
"Joo… ining…" he rasps.
I realize what’s about to happen. Our souls are already bound. If Salt dies, I die too, instantly. It’s happened before in my family, the day Anzo came to our house and killed my dad. The energy coil ruptured, reducing them to ash. They died at the same moment.
Joining is a powerful healing process between fated mates, something that can repair wounds over time, but can it work this fast? When we’re both injured and Salt is on the edge of death?
But do I even have the luxury of thinking about that, or about the morality of penetrating my dying mate when we have absolutely nothing left to lose?
We might have one or two minutes left on this planet.
A final, vague chance.
With the hand that isn’t wounded, I tear at his pants and open mine. In a situation like this, an erection should be impossible, but the moment I press my cock to his entrance, something incredible happens. His muscle ring tightens around me, almost drawing me in, as if it knows something drastic is happening. My body responds in kind. I feel my blood rushing downward even though there’s no arousal, just that strange, almost invasive sensation of stretching unready tissue, and yet it happens.
A moment later, I slide into him.
I press myself against him, my uninjured hand dropping to the wound on his chest, pressing hard to slow the bleeding.
Salt coughs dully, a thin stream of blood spilling from his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face to his cheek.
What if this is the end, if the magic of True Mates isn’t enough to stop it?
Our last moments on Earth.
I want it to mean something.
"I love you, baby," I whisper. "Everything will be okay. Whatever happens, we’ll go together. Our souls are one now."
That’s all I manage to get out.
From the corner of my eye, I notice a vast pool of blood spreading near my shoulder. The bullet must have hit an artery. It’s everywhere.
