“Please tell me I’m not delusional.” Rage gasped, still clutching his side. “We’re stuck in the Realm of the Dead, I’m dying, and you’re worried about what to call your new … grandpa…”
It took two full breaths before I realized his wheezing was laughter. I sidled up to my mate and slid my arm around his waist again. Shaking my head, I muttered, “I’m glad you’re seeing the humor in all this because I’m seventy-five point three percent sure I’m losing my mind.”
I rubbed at my temples.
Rage tucked me closer to him until our bodies were flush from my shoulder to our hips, touching almost like we were teammates for a three-legged race, except my mate had several inches on me and weighed at least twice what I did. We walked toward the white castle, and dread tightened its hold on my chest as he leaned on me more every step we took.
“Well, at least if I die, Madame Surlama won’t be able to collect those lame-ass favors,” Rage wheezed.
I shook my head. “That isn’t funny. I’m not going to let you die.”
Rage groaned, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “Are you sure? I feel like I’m dying.”
He grunted and moaned with the next three steps before he stumbled and pitched forward as his legs gave out.
Time slowed as he swayed, panic holding me captive, and then Rage collapsed to the ground.
“Rage!” I dropped to my knees beside my mate, my heart hurtling desperately against my ribs. “Rage?”
No response. Didn’t Grandpa Geoff say we had, like, at least an hour? I was 100.6% sure that our time wasn’t up; we’d only been here all of fifteen minutes!
I grabbed Rage’s shoulder and, with a grunt, rolled him over onto his back. One look, and my stomach sank. His skin, once golden-tan, was now ashy and gray, and his lips were tinged blue. Resting my head on his chest just over his heart provided a measure of relief. His chest still moved up and down, a little, and I could hear his heartbeat although it was faint and reedy. He was alive. Now, how could I keep him that way?
Rolling thunder reverberated through the air then, and I glanced up to the sky, frowning when I couldn’t spot a single cloud.
What the heck was that?The last thing I needed now was a storm on top of my mate’s fatal illness.
I threaded my fingers through his and then straightened, glancing toward the castle. How fast could I get there? Once there, would I find help? Given the fact that Grandpa gave me a gem to bargain with, I was only 10.2% sure someone at the castle would help me. Even worse, I was less certain I’d return to find Rage alive if I left him here.
Another rumble of thunder made me glare up at the pale purple expanse. All of the beauty of this realm seemed to mock my dire circumstances.
Months of lessons at Alpha Academy were worth exactly nada in this situation. How was it that healing ability wasn’t taught until second year of water studies? I didn’t even knowwhatwas wrong with Rage. Other than the whole body-decomposing thing.
His breathing grew more shallow. More rapid.
Crappity-crap, crap, crap.
Did I need to perform CPR? Maybe he was having a heart attack. Could a werewolf even have a heart attack?
“Please don’t make me do CPR on you,” I muttered, shoving the small gem into my back pocket. “I don’t even know how to do that!”
One of the facets of the gem raked over the tip of my finger and, with a yip of pain, I withdrew my hand. I cursed Surlama as fresh blood oozed down my finger. Wrapping my finger into the hem of my shirt, I applied pressure to staunch the flow of blood.
Think. Think. Think.
I slid my other hand into Rage’s, and his fingers twitched. My gaze dropped to our entwined fingers—then zeroed in on our mate marks. Kissing Rage for the first time had bonded us with magic. Would it help now? Did it even count as “kissing” if the other person was unconscious? Pretty sure that was creeptastic. And desperate.
Do something, Nai!
“Please wake up.” I leaned over him and traced his lips with my finger, cringing at the streak of glowing purplish-red left by my touch. Yikes, that was my blood. I lifted the hem of my shirt to wipe off the gruesome streak but froze as the purplish glowmeltedinto his skin, leaving behind only a small smear of blood. Was that … magic?
“Sorry,” I muttered and wiped my shirt’s hem over the streak, which smeared more blood on his lips.
Eww.Crap, I’m making this worse.
I dropped my shirt hem and reached for his. That was seriously gross, but…
Once again, the glowy magic seemed to melt into his skin and disappear. I wiped away the blood and frowned. His lips no longer had that blue tinge to them. If my blood was magically helping him somehow, then maybe…
