“I think I like your country, Cosantir,” the dark one murmured.
The blond cahir laughed. “Good mountains, lots of danger, courageous females. What’s not to like?”
Calum gathered Margery up in his arms. “The healing area is north of the grounds. If you could assist?”
The blond cahir walked over and stroked a hand over Heather’s fur. “Come, little female, it’s to the healer with you.”
Although he was so incredibly careful as he picked her up, the movement shot daggers into her head until she could do nothing but shiver and try not to whimper.
The dark one joined them, easing one of her paws to a more comfortable position. He ran his hand down her side. “She’s covered in blood.” He sniffed and made a huffing sound. “From several humans.”
The blond chuckled and started walking. His voice was a low rumble under her ear. “Been busy, have you, pretty wolf?”
His arms were like iron bands, holding her tightly to his huge chest. He radiated heat. And his scent, oh, his wild, masculine scent played havoc with her senses.
She bent her head to his forearm and gave him a little lick. Salty, sweaty, wonderful male. She licked him again.
Even as the dark one laughed, the blond strolled along beside the Cosantir. His deep rumbly voice was quiet and assured. “Calum, the little female licked me. I think that means she’s mine.”
The dark one chuckled. “Ours.”
“Bloody Canadians.” Calum huffed. “No.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Unclaimed territory - one night before the full moon
Something hurt. No, everything hurt, but something hurt worse than the rest.
The intense, aching pull in the center of Margery’s chest felt like someone had roped her heart to drag it through a too-narrow opening.
Fuzzily, she blinked. Why was she lying on the ground? In the dirt. When she moved her head, her skull felt shattered.
She whined. Had a grizzly bit her, trying to crack her head like a walnut?
Trying to check, she lifted her hand—no, her paw. That wouldn’t work. Panting, she trawsfurred to human.
Even shifting hurt.
Her hand shook as she gingerly touched the burning area above her right eyebrow. The flesh was all swollen around an incredibly painful furrow. Sticky, half-drying blood covered the side of her face.
What…? Flashes of memory strobed her brain.
Two mercenaries aiming at Vicki. She’d charged them. And, Gods, one of them shot her. That was a bullet furrow.
No wonder her head hurt.
As she pushed to a sitting position, nausea roiled in her belly.
Was Vicki all right? And wait, a reddish wolf had attacked the one who’d shot her. Was that Heather?
By the Gods, her memories were messed up worse than Breanne’s jigsaw puzzle.
What about the pain in her chest? Had she been shot there, too? She ran her hands over her sternum, breasts, and ribs. Aside from the long knife slash—and a lot of bruises—she was just bloody and dirty.
Carefully, she looked around, sucking in air against the stabbing in her head.
A clearing. Moonlight shone into the center. The tree-lined edges were in shadow. Bodies lay and sat everywhere.
Captives? Terror froze her until she sniffed and found only the wild scent of shifters, blood, and pain. No firearms or armor or humans.
She wasn’t a prisoner.
She was surrounded by the wounded.
If the injured were here, where was Donal? There was no healer moving around, no deep calming voice—or ranting.
The pain in her chest grew, inexorably dragging her attention to her right.
Tynan was kneeling next to…next to Donal who lay so very still.
No. No, no, no.
The ache in her chest was from him. Her bond to him strummed with agony. She tried to stand, failed, and shifted to wolf so she could stagger on four paws between the injured to get to Tynan. To Donal.
Tynan lifted his head before she reached him. “Meggie?” He stared at her in disbelief.
She collapsed next to Donal, whining her questions. Her fears.
“He did too much.” The grief in Tynan’s voice bit at her with sharp fangs. “I tried to give him power. So did Francesca who should have a bond with him. Nothing helps. His breathing is…” His voice went ragged. “Is slowing.”
No. No, he couldn’t die.
Fear shook her and the beginning of grief before Tynan’s words truly registered. Francesca had tried to give him power. A female he’d mated with.
Margery had mated with him…and there was love there. They had a bond. A bond big enough to hurt like fire right now.
Lying next to him, she rested her muzzle on his bare chest. His skin was cool. His ribcage barely moved with