not by much. The shift had returned her clothing and healed her injuries, but it had done fuck all for the exhaustion of using so much magic on Mortal Earth.
Lifting her head, she looked around for Conal. He lay ten feet away, covered in even more blood than when she’d dived over the balcony rail. Crap. She lifted Liam and hurried toward him. The closer she got, the worse he looked. “Is he still alive?”
“Barely,” Liam growled. “I’m calling Maeve.”
“What about the geas?”
“Siobhan’s cretins are dead, so the spell isn’t in effect.” Thoughtfully, he added, “Conal acquitted himself rather well. Vicious fighter. I’d figured he’d be a pampered little halfer.”
“Racist.” Helena dropped to her knees beside the Changeling. What she could see of his face was paper pale beneath the blood. The werewolves had mauled him like a dog pack. He had bites and raking claw wounds to his chest, belly, face, legs and arms. “How in the hell was he fighting?”
“Berserker spell. Too bad I can’t do that on you.”
“If you could, I wouldn’t be magic resistant, and you’d have killed me by now. Did you call Maeve? He’s covered in blood.”
“I did, and not all of it’s his.”
Conal’s lids lifted and he looked up at her feverishly. They stared at each other for a long, spinning moment. God, his eyes… The violet irises pulled you in, made you want to watch all those shifting shades of blue and purple. “I’m Helena Baker. Maeve sent me.”
“I know.” A lunatic grin broke across his face. There was blood on his teeth. “Marry me,” he gasped. Then his eyes rolled up, and he passed out.
She blinked down at him, nonplussed.
“Well,” Liam drawled. “He does have good taste, though as proposals do go, that one could have used some work.”
She felt the fireworks burst of an opening dimensional gate. “Conal!” Maeve cried, striding across the room, Essus clinging to one shoulder. The phoenix eagle’s wings beat in agitation. His feathers were glowing, dangerously close to bursting into flame. “Maeve, he’s dying…”
“Not for long.” Maeve dropped to one knee and extended a hand over the Changeling’s bloody chest. Magic poured from her long fingers.
Helena’s nose stung with the scent of ozone as the Mother of Fairies set to work healing each of the Changeling’s wounds, her swirling power making his entire body glow. “Do you think he’s been infected?” Any human bitten that many times would shortly turn furry. Merlin’s Curse was catching.
Maeve shook her head, bells and charms tinkling in her hair. “No, he has enough Sidhe blood to block the spell.”
“Oh, good.” It would suck for the poor bastard to survive all this, only to die from the Bite. Twenty percent of Direkind didn’t survive their first transformation -- their magic escaped their control and incinerated them. Not that the first shift was a party even for the lucky eighty percent. Helena grimaced, remembering her own.
By the time the Mother sat back on her heels with a sigh of satisfaction, Conal was healed and whole. Even the blood was gone, leaving no sign whatsoever of the horrific torture he’d suffered, beyond those gore-splattered jeans. He was otherwise naked, elegant chiseled torso bare, with long legs, ridiculously broad shoulders and powerful arms -- the kind of body designed for combat and seduction.
He stirred with a groan of relief as his lids fluttered and lifted. His face was as ridiculously beautiful as his body. Thick dark brows drew attention to those arresting violet eyes and the kind of sculpted, aggressively masculine features you usually saw only on busts of Roman generals. Long dark hair spilled around his head, revealing ears that swept into elegant points. Changelings so obviously Sidhe usually employed some magical tatt to keep a human disguise going even while they were asleep or unconscious. Probably that sigil on his left pectoral, judging by the magic it radiated. Being a werewolf, Helena saw him as he was. It was a damn nice view…
Her libido picked that moment to wake up and start rumbling, her nipples tightening, heat gathering in her pussy. Oh, shut up. He’s not going to be interested in me. He’s seen my inner Big Bad Wolf.
Healed or not, it took Conal a minute to start tracking. He blinked up at them in confusion, before he sucked in a gasp and jolted into a sitting position, looking wildly around.
“All is well,” Maeve told him, catching a bare shoulder to gently urge him back down before he could leap away.