The reverse shift tears through me, and I land on my hands and feet, every wound screaming without the wolf’s buffer. Using my last bit of strength, I rush over to him.
“Kain!” My voice is breathless, shaking with molten fear.
He looks up at me. His eyes are clear—that is the first thing I check, some instinct taking over—but when I look at the rest of him, my heart drops into my stomach.
The blade is still buried in his chest. Silver, wolfsbane-coated, buried to the hilt, just left of center mass. His wolf healing cannot close a wound with the blade still inside it, but I can’t pull it out—that deep, I’m sure it would kill him even faster I were to. Even his breathing is wrong, shallow and wet in a way that must mean the lung is compromised, that the wolfsbane is already in his blood.
“Lie down,” I say, and my voice comes out too high, too fast. I correct it. “Kain. Lie down. Now.”
He does, and the fact that he does without arguing tells me more than anything else could.
I kneel next to him and press my hands to his shoulder wound. Looking up, I shout, “I need a healer!”
My voice is hoarse, my own injuries draining me, but I’m so scared. I hear myself call out again, hear the words leave my mouth with clarity and volume I did not know I could still muster. Ethan is with Violet, yelling for a healer for her, as well.
I look back down at Kain. He is watching my face as if it is the only thing he wants to see.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you already know how this ends.”
“That’s exactly the problem. I don’t know how it ends.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I let it.
His mouth changes shape, not quite a smile. “Healer—”
“The healers are coming. But you are not—” I stop. Start again. “You are not dying, Kain. I am not going to sit here and watch that happen.”
“Anne…”
“No.” I’m already crying. I didn’t realize it until I heard my own voice, but tears are flowing, and I don’t try to stop them. “No. Do you know how many times I’ve lost you already? Twice. I refuse—I refuse to do it a third time. Do you understand me?”
He is looking at me with something in his eyes that I have no name for. All I know is that I want to hold him close and never let him go. I want to protect him from this world that has been so cruel to him.
My mind is running a mile a minute, and the words leave my lips faster than my brain can process.
“Mark me.”
His hand reaches up and finds my wrist, his grip weaker than it should be. “Anne. Don’t.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“I’m not—Listen to me.” His fingers tighten slightly. “I didn’t take that blade so you’d feel obligated. I don’t want to force you to forgive me.”
Tears spill down my cheeks freely. “I’ve already forgiven you, Kain.”
Kain’s eyes widen, and I nod.
“You are my mate, and I am not losing you. You are going to let me do this, and you are going to live, and then, we are going to have all the time in the world to be complicated and honest and work out everything we still have to work out. Do you understand me?”
His eyes are wet. He nods once and lets go of my wrist.
I lean down and present my neck to him. With what feels like the last of his strength, Kain marks me.
The pain is sharp and immediate, a bright flare that I feel just before the magic hits.
Light and warmth flood through all the space that grief carved out, and through the new fullness of the bond, I feel him, beyond anything words can convey or eyes can see.
