followed by pounding from next door. At Tynan and Donal’s house.
“Donal, need help! Got banged-up shifters here. Two-car accident,” a man yelled.
“By Herne’s hooves.” Tynan pulled in an exasperated breath.
He set her up, gliding his fingertips over her cheek. “I should go help. There might be more injured or a mess on the highway.”
Or bodies. “Of course.” With a grunt of effort, she swung off him, feeling the ache of unresolved need deep in her pelvis.
As he rose, she bit her lip. “Do you think Donal would like my help, too?”
Tynan bent to kiss her again. “Banfasa, you have his approval, which means he’ll always appreciate assistance. The cat loves help.”
Oh. That was perfect because she loved giving help.
Smiling, Tynan handed over her shirt. “I’ll walk over with you, and we’ll take care of things.”
Delight sparkled like stars inside her chest.
Hearing a male’s raised voice in the waiting area, Donal tuned it out. He didn’t have time for peacemaking, not with the way Kepler’s lacerated liver was bleeding.
“Am I dyin’, healer?” Kepler lay supine on the exam table.
“No, bear, you’re not.” With the abundance of alcohol in the idiot’s system, he probably wasn’t in too much pain, either. “Now, shut up while I try to put your liver back together.”
And next time wear your seatbelt.
No point in saying that now. Not when the shifter’s brain had sopped up that much alcohol. Bending his head, Donal extended his sight, sent forth power, and slowly, carefully, mended the tears on the liver, then healed the rest of the mess.
Finished, he straightened and saw Kepler had passed out. Didn’t that just figure.
After washing his hands, Donal walked out into the waiting area. If anything, the noise had gotten worse. To his surprise, little Margery was there, standing in front of Emma and Darcy, defending the injured females from Kepler’s littermate, Norman.
“I don’t care whose fault it is,” she was saying calmly. “This isn’t the place or the time. Leave them alone.”
Norman started to advance on her—lovely, he, too, was intoxicated—and Donal stepped in front of him. “Norman, you—"
“What’s going on in here? I could hear you from the street.” Tynan walked inside. His frown at Norman had the werebear taking a step back.
Excellent timing, brawd.
Hearing the unspoken words, Tynan nodded to Donal. “Vehicles are secured off the road—and you have no more injured, other than this bunch.”
Now that was the kind of report Donal liked.
“Deputy.” Donal gave his littermate a quick grin for the use of his official law enforcement title. “Can you collect Kepler from the healing room and see that he and Norman here get home safely.”
“Sure and I can do that.” Tynan shot a look at Norman. “Norman, you’re going to want to back away from our banfasa and healer. Right this fecking minute.”
The growl that ended the order made Norman backpedal clumsily. “Sorry, sorry,” he said to Donal and Margery, before turning to Tynan. “Deputy, hey, those females, they caused that fucking accident. It wasn’t Kepler’s fault, not at all. They—”
Ignoring Norman, Tynan disappeared into the healing room and returned with Kepler in his arms. “You can tell me all about the accident on the way to your house. Your littermate needs to be in his bed, don’t you think?”
Not waiting for an answer, Tynan winked at Donal and Margery and simply walked out the door.
After a moment to get his brain into gear, Norman followed.
“Whew, wasn’t that fun,” Margery muttered and pulled in a breath. “Healer, Darcy has a fractured wrist. The side window broke and gashed Emma’s head and shoulder. She might have a bit of a concussion, too—she thinks it was her head that broke the window.”
She’d stepped back to stand between the two women who were seated on the bench. Both women leaned against her, like she was their pillar of strength.
But their pillar was shaking, too.
Donal stepped close and touched Margery’s cheek with his fingertips. Evaluating. Pale face, skin too cold, heart racing. “He scared you.”
“Some.” She drew herself up and nodded at the two females. “He scared them worse.”
Aye, and Norman’s yelling would certainly frighten the already shaken females. Especially these two who, like Margery, had experienced violence in their pasts.
“Darcy, let’s get that wrist taken care of.” He could see Margery had done quick patch jobs on both female’s wounds and splinted the fractured wrist. He gave her a nod of gratitude. “Nice work. Thank you, banfasa.”
With Donal’s help, Darcy rose. One step into the healing room, and she was trying to