My heart thundered against my ribs with the terrible realization. There was no way for Rage to win this fight unless we broke the spell at Clive’s throat. It was keeping him from going for the kill. This was a fight to the death, and the likelihood of Rage getting to another significant artery was super slim. With our werewolf healing, the peripheral arteries healed too fast to bleed to death.
‘Can I send the magic of the mixture through our bond?’I asked Grandpa Geoff as I chewed on the root and tried to think outside the box. I held my hand out to Honor.‘Please bite me.’
He’d seen what I did for his mom, and without saying anything, Honor bit into the meat of my hand and tugged, opening a deep gash. I winced as the pain radiated from my palm, but I ignored it. Spitting the mixture into the wound, I grimaced as I mashed it into the blood.
‘Grandpa?’Maybe if I rubbed the spellbreaker blend on me and then—
‘No. You need to apply it to the spell for it to break it.’
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I hollered to Rage:‘I need you to get Clive over here so I can rub this spellbreaker mixture on his throat and break the spell he is illegally using!’Still, no idea how I would do that.
Rage froze as I spoke to him, and Clive lunged.
The crunch of Rage’s bone tore through me, worse knowing I’d caused the distraction. I looked up to see my mate crumple to the carpet.
No!
What had Sara said about me being able to take some of Rage’s pain? Would it even work without us having sealed the bond?
I had to try.
Closing my eyes, I imagined siphoning away some of Rage’s pain, sucking the blinding agony into my body.
Nothing.
The only pain I felt was on his behalf—its own kind of agony.
Maybe I could send him healing vibes. Focusing on the mate marks on my finger, I visualized how the same lines traced his finger. The curves and swirls connected us—a connection I loved because I’d grown to love him.
Fate may have picked us, but we chose each other right back. The love I felt for him was more than blind adoration. He was brave. Kind. Thoughtful. Loyal.
My right forearm began to throb; then the deep ache of a broken bone sent a wave of pain through me, and I sucked it into myself, knowing I was sparing Rage a portion of the discomfort.
Thank the mage. It worked!
I looked up as Rage delivered a similar bone-crushing bite to Clive’s back leg.
The grey wolf went down with a whine.
This time, instead of Rage going for Clive’s throat, my mate took the opportunity to crawl toward me. Wait … why was he crawling?
My arm hurt bad enough—
That’s when I noticed his other wounds.
Blood dripped from Rage’s muzzle, his shoulder looked like ground meat, and several deep gashes ran along his ribs.
Clive was no less battered. The gray wolf’s face was marred by new wounds that oozed as did the ones on his flanks and middle. Like Rage, he had several deep gashes from where he’d been clawed during the fight.
The battle for alpha king had extended several minutes—minutes that were hours and lifetimes and eternities.
I opened myself to Rage’s other wounds … and crumpled to my knees, gasping.
Mother … Mage.
Anyone who looked on might have just seen a grieving mate, but Sarah had a knowing look in her eye and gave me a short nod of approval from across the room.
