Revyn
Sienna disappearsover the cliff’s edge, taking Alistair with her as they tumble into the silver glow of moonlight. Her eyes flash gold as she sinks her teeth into his foreleg, and a wave of pride fills my chest at seeing my girl fight back. Alistair had no right calling her out in front of all those shifters—and to be honest, I don’t know why the hells she even told him the truth about her heat cycles. It’s not like he needs to know.
He’s never going to have the chance to fuck her.
I barrel toward the ledge and hear the crack of bone before I see it, Sienna’s yelp of pain setting off alarms in my head. She’ll heal—with time. Being half-wolf means that her genes aren’t as pure, and her healing process is slowed as a result, or so I assume. I’ve never asked a healer, and Sienna has never wanted to know.
Suddenly, it feels like the most important detail in the world. Like the key to keeping her safe lies in knowing every single thing about how her body functions—why she doesn’t have a heat cycle, why her speed is outmatched despite her size, why her gifts, like a shifter’s innate healing, don’t always work like they should. I’ve questioned it once or twice, sure, but didn’t put much thought into it beyond that.
Why didn’t I?
We’ve been in life-or-death situations before, and she’s always come out okay, no matter how many bumps and bruises she takes. I’m the one with the scars—she’s the one who heals like a newborn, her skin as soft and tender as a peach. It just takes a few days for her to heal, whereas I’ll heal within hours, if not minutes.
I jump over the edge in hot pursuit, just in time to witness Sienna shift back into a human as hertruemate breaks her fall.
What a fucking bastard.
I snarl as I land a few feet away, determined to get her the fuck away from him. My ears ring and I blindly burrow into the snow, reaching for the woman I can no longer live without. I retract my claws and dig, the snow melting and refreezing on my fur, stalling my progress, making my body heavier, denser, slowing my movements, filling my lungs, making it impossible to get to her, let alone breathe?—
Coming up for air hurts.
Scenting Sienna’s blood on the snow hurts worse.
Crimson blooms across the glittering white ground, and I catch Alistair’s frustration as he curses to himself over and over again. Kneeling in front of Sienna’s limp body, he presses both of his palms against her side, staunching a wound as best he can with his fingers. “Cmon,” he growls, his gaze steady on her wound. “Why the fuck isn’t it closing?”
It’s dangerous to shift in front of the enemy, but I do it anyway. Alistair doesn’t pay me a single thought, doesn’t even look my way as I walk over and kneel opposite him. “She heals slowly,” I murmur, scanning her body for injuries. The rib she broke by the bonfire has bruised her skin, but the gash on her other side is what worries me. There are a few scrapes along her feet, but nothing major. The only other injuries are from the entrance trials, and those are covered in bandages “We needto clean and dress her wound.” I glance in the direction of the academy, but its glow is muted through the trees. “How far to the dorms?”
“Far,” Alistair mutters, his brow pinched. “What do you mean, she heals slowly? How slowly?”
“We need to dress her wound,” I repeat, irritation making me sweat despite how goddamn cold it is. “I’ll take her. Let go.”
“No,” he snaps, exhaling harshly. “I’ll heal her, just—” He glares at me. “Turn around.”
Like hell, I’m leaving him alone with her. “She’s injured because of you!” I knock his hands away from her ribs. “Get the fuck off her!”
“I willhealher.” His eyes flash gold—a fucking nightmarish resemblance to Sienna’s when she’s angry—and he growls deep in his chest. “Make sure no one sees her. No one,” he repeats firmly. Without waiting another second, he lowers his body to the snow and levels his face with her wound. Blood pours in slow bursts, timed with her heartbeat, and Alistair takes a deep breath before pushing the skin together with his fingers and kissing it. His tongue peeks between his lips a moment later, and a sound catches in his throat as his eyes slide closed.
I want to throw the fuck up, but as her wound closes before my eyes, I can’t look away. It stitches back together with a soft glow of light, and my heart breaks yet again.
The bastard can heal her, and I can’t.
Healing is a rare gift, but true mates are said to share each other’s pain. The divot between Sienna’s eyebrows eases, and when Alistair finally stops making out with her waist, his cheeks are flushed the same pretty pink as hers. He wipes the blood from his lips and inspects his work, testing her skin with his fingertips.
“How did you know to do that?” I ask, resentful that he has the ability but grateful at the same time.
He doesn’t answer me and reaches for her broken rib on the other side. When he pushes against it, he sucks in a pained breath.
Sienna doesn’t move, blissfully unconscious.
While he molds his palm to her side, I clench my fists. “How did you know how to do that?” I ask again, gritting my teeth as his hand begins to glow a pale shade of amber. It takes longer for Sienna’s rib to heal without Alistair’s magic goddamn saliva—something I hope Ineverhave to witness again—but when he sits back, the side of his chest is bruised instead of hers. It heals damn near instantly.
“My mother is a healer,” he explains, “or I wouldn’t have known.”
“Your mother is a healer,” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Great. Your bloodline’s perfect.”
A smirk touches Alistair’s lips. “Jealous?”
I ignore his jab and lift Sienna into my arms, cradling her against my chest and turning to leave. Fucking asshole. I don’t care that he healed her—he needs to get the fuck away from my mate.
