Captive Mate - Eliot Grayson Page 0,31

coffee in his other hand to be completely at his ease.

Ian, Jennifer, Paul, and Ian’s two muscled clones were prowling in a half-circle, chivvying the Kimballs and Parker’s group into the SUVs. Someone must have convinced Ian to fight another day. I noticed that Jennifer was right in Ian’s space, probably making sure he didn’t change his mind and charge the retreating enemy.

At Nate’s shout, though, Ian broke off and loped back to us. With a choking cloud of dust and a spattering of gravel, the SUVs reversed and shot backwards out of the access road, their tires squealing as they turned to burn rubber down the highway. Dor sheathed his sword and followed Ian, and both of them knelt down by Matthew’s head.

It was getting really fucking crowded.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ian demanded. And then looked at me, of fucking course. “What’s happening to him?”

“I might be able to tell you if I wasn’t cut off from using any magic,” I snapped. All my limbs were growing cold too. My head spun. Was I going to die with Matthew a lot more directly than I thought if I couldn’t use my magic to cut myself off from my spell’s effects? I squeezed his hand, hard. He didn’t even stir. “Why don’t you ask one of the two mages sitting right here not fucking doing anything?”

Ian and Nate both went bright red and started to talk over each other, worrying and speculating and arguing, but I focused on Dor. He was frowning down at Matthew, his head cocked to the side.

“I can see there’s something wrong, but I can’t do anything about it,” he said. “I’m sorry. Healing isn’t really in my wheelhouse, at least for this type of being.”

“Healing is just energy,” I protested for — only the second time? Panic was starting to set in. Matthew had bought me a reprieve from Parker, but what the fuck good was that if he died on me and left me at the mercy of everyone who’d blame me for it? “You can figure it out.”

“Nope,” Dor said with a sigh. “Not so much. Wrong kind of energy. I’m more…” He twiddled his fingers in the air. “Subatomic, I suppose you’d call it. If I try to heal him, he’s a lot more likely to glow in the dark than he is to survive.”

“Sub what?” Ian demanded, breaking off his argument with Nate. His eyes were huge in his pale face, and all his freckles were standing out like dirt in milk. “Dor, Nate can’t do it alone. The two of you need to —”

“I’m sorry,” Dor repeated. “Not happening. I would if I could, believe me.”

“You’re telling me he’s going to die? Because he fought for this — for this —” Ian broke off with a wordless, miserable little moan, jumped to his feet, and stalked away, covering his face with his hands.

A long time ago, I’d lost someone I considered an older brother. He hadn’t died — though I’d have been surprised if he was still alive now. But I’d watched him walk away, going somewhere he’d probably get killed, and known I’d never see him again. That was the last time I’d cared about anyone enough to feel that gut-wrenching, lung-twisting agony when they were gone.

Ian was feeling that now. And for a moment, I felt it with him, visceral and nauseating.

I let go of Matthew’s hand and held out both of my own. They shook visibly, tremors running all the way up my arms.

“I can do it,” I said, looking at Dor and only Dor. Nate didn’t have the authority to make the decision. Ian might agree, but his posturing and freaking out and threats would take too long. Matthew was slipping away; that was obvious even without being able to feel his life force. His chest was barely rising and falling. If he wasn’t an alpha, he’d have been dead before we even started to fight about what to do to save him.

“No,” Nate said. His voice shook nearly as much as my hands. “He’s lying. Or he isn’t lying — I believe he can do it. But he won’t.”

Dor stared at me. His eyes — speaking of subatomic. There was something about his eyes that sucked me in, down and down, like a whirlpool that led somewhere horrifically creepy and seductive that would never let you out.

“Yes, he will,” Dor said, and reached for the cuffs.

“Don’t! Matthew wouldn’t want you to!”

Dor shrugged. “They’re my manacles.”