when the Scythe took us. Then you talk about attending Gatherings.”
“We’re from the same litter,” he pointed out.
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I feel a lot older than I really am.”
He nodded, his eyes holding a sadness that would probably never go away. “Violence, being treated like animals, killing. That shit changes things. Patrin says other shifters our age seem like younglings.”
Opening the fridge, Margery pulled out the leftover roast beef and a loaf of bread. When Oliver’s eyes lit, she started making sandwiches. “Most of the time, I feel old—and then I trip over a tradition everyone else knows and feel like I’m five.”
The haunted look disappeared from his eyes as he snickered. “Oh, yeah. Like I didn’t remember shit about lifemating stuff. It’s not as if Mom or Grandmama had lifemates. So…I was trying to flirt with a pretty female. And two big werecats saw me trying to get her interest. Turned out they were her new lifemates.”
“Uh-oh. Nice ones?”
“Not. Hardly. They bashed me into the wall, ready to tear my throat out. Thank fuck an elder stepped in and explained I was still learning the traditions.”
Margery felt her breath shudder. The males could have hurt Oliver badly. “I heard new lifemates were unstable, but wow.”
“Yeah.” He drank some lemonade, then grinned. “Do you remember when we were seven, and you asked the Howatt littermates to wait for you so you could be their lifemate?”
“They were so nice. They didn’t even laugh.” Her mood darkened. The Howatt brothers had died on the street the day the Scythe attacked.
Oliver saw her face and looked away. Picking up the sandwich, he moved out of the kitchen. “So, you’re going to work as a banfasa like Grandmama?”
“Maybe. Probably. I have a job as a waitress, but the healer has work for me to do, too. With older shifters and pregnant ones as well as the ones with injuries that take a while to heal.”
“Sounds boring,” Oliver said.
“Not to me.” She settled into a chair in the living room. “I don’t like all the bloody stuff the healers are so good at. I’d rather do therapy to help someone recover their strength, make sure a pregnant shifter is eating right for the unborn cub. I’m good at that.”
“You’re good at all of it.” Oliver sat on the couch. “Grandmama was really proud of you.”
Tears prickled her eyes. “Thanks.” Earning her grandmother’s praise had been difficult—but very rewarding. They’d planned to be partners when Margery was an adult.
Many plans for the future had died the day of the Scythe attack.
“So…have you figured out what you want to do?” she asked.
“Not really.” He scowled. “The human spymaster who helped get us out—his name is Wells—said something about us helping him kill off the rest of the Scythe. At least that’s what he mentioned before we got sent to the Elder Villages.”
His worried expression unsettled her. “I don’t like that idea.”
“Me, neither. Guess we’ll hear soon enough now that it’s spring.”
“It doesn’t seem right. The Scythe are human; Wells is human. He should have to deal with them, not our people.”
“Wishful thinking never gets a person very far.”
His bitter tone broke Margery’s heart. “You’re here now, though. And you’ll have to let me pamper you.”
If Wells wanted him to fight, he’d have to go through her first.
“You always did.” Oliver’s smile slowly changed until it was almost as carefree as it had been when they were young. “I’ve looked forward to being back with you since the day they parted us.”
Maybe she couldn’t imagine what the shifter-soldiers’ lives had been like or how horrible it would have been for a small unaggressive werebear like Oliver, but he was here now.
He’d have the time—and all her help—to finish healing.
A constant stream of wounded shifters kept Donal moving most of the day. By the Gods, full moons were a pain in the tail. But this was the last injured male today…he hoped. He set his hand over the deep abrasions on Devin’s forearm. As his power flowed, he melded the flesh together and then the layers of skin.
When Donal straightened, the middle-aged male smiled. “Not even a scar. Thank you, healer.”
“You’re welcome.” Donal rolled his aching shoulders. “I’m surprised you’re here, though. Post-gathering, it’s usually single males in here.”
Devin and his two littermates had a mate, Jody, and they all ran a cleaning service.
“Ah, well, this wasn’t from a fight.” Devin rubbed his arm. “A pup got herself stuck in a tree out