With one hand braced behind her neck, I pull her face into the crook of my neck, shielding her from anyone who might still be there.
Hazel loops her arms around my shoulder, tugging at me to let her back down.
Not happening.
I don’t understand why she’s fighting me. Even if she dropped something, it’s not worth more than her life.
I press a quick kiss to her shoulder, tightening my hold as my gaze snaps in every direction, searching for movement.
If he’s still here, he’s dead.
My shadows surge to life, coiling around us aggressively until I can barely see two feet ahead, but nothing’s getting through.
We can’t stay out here. It’s too exposed.
As I run toward her room, her teeth chatter against my neck, sending another spike of panic through me. I need to watch her temperature. I need to stop the bleeding.
I don’t stop until we reach her bathroom. I carefully set her on the counter, pulling the towel tighter around her shoulders.
I step back to assess the damage and curse under my breath. The cuts cover her. Everywhere. But I’m more worried about how they haven’t healed by now.
Hazel isn’t healing as she should, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.
The door bangs open as Khatri storms in, his panic and confusion mirroring my own.
“Don’t move.” I tighten the towel around my mate before turning, shielding her from view.
The second I see my Warriorhead, something inside me snaps. “Where the fuck were you and your warriors? Someone just attacked my mate in my own fucking backyard!”
The color drains out of his face. “That’s impossible.”
A growl tears out of me, ready to rip his throat out, but before I can step forward, Hazel grabs my arm.
She opens her mouth, but whatever she sees on my face makes her hesitate. She swallows, glances at Khatri, then whispers, “It wasn’t someone else. I did this to myself.”
What?
I swear I hear my heart hit the floor and shatter at the sight of a single tear slipping down her cheek. Without looking awayfrom her, I kick the bathroom door shut and link Khatri to leave. I’ll explain later.
Why would she do this to herself?
How can someone tear themselves open like this and not make a sound?
I grab hand towels from under the sink, blinking away the spots in my vision as I crouch in front of her and carefully wrap her feet and calves.
It’s not working. She’s still bleeding.
Why isn’t it stopping?
Hazel whimpers, the sound going straight to my heart.
“I’m sorry. How bad is the pain?”
“It’s fine. I’ll live.”
“Not what I asked.” I snap before I can stop myself. I force a breath, trying to calm the fury clawing its way out, and start cleaning the cuts. After a while, the wounds begin to close, and I finally breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Dean, please stop.” Hazel reaches for me, but I pull my hand away. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”
