Rabid (Kingdom of Wolves #6) - Ivy Asher Page 0,134

anger as he calls out into the night again. His need beckons me, and I snarl, knowing what it means. A frustrated, screaming growl vibrates through my chest, but when it comes to choosing between vengeance against Burke or answering the call of my mate, my mate will win every time.

I slam a clawed fist against the driver side window, and it shatters under the force of my vehemence as Burke screams. I look him in the eye, my rabid stare vowing that he’ll see me again, and then I slow my pace, letting the van race away from me as I turn to answer Tyran’s howl for help.

Sprinting back the way I came, I race past the pack house. Part of me is demanding that I turn and finish off the threat to our pack, to destroy the reason why we’re even here, but our pack needs us. Twin Rivers wolves yip in fear as they part and make way for me, quickly backing away as I approach the gathering in the heart of their territory. Just behind the pack house, surrounded by a protective circle of our wolves, I find Tyran, Kier, Vorria, and another male. I don’t know him, but he smells like magic, so I assume he’s Plummet Lake’s healer. Just past them, with a wicked scowl, bruises all over his face, and a makeshift sling on his arm, is Britton. Thank the moon our pack’s Second is okay.

As soon as we’re close enough, Tyran comes over to rub against me and my wolf, not even bothered in the slightest by our new form. His response warms us, and I run my claws through his fur, beyond grateful to have found such a worthy male who understands and accepts everything we are no matter what.

Vorria’s gaze snaps to me. “Luna, we need you,” she barks, her thoughts and actions firmly planted in healer mode. I recognize the strong countenance. I’ve seen it many times from my mother over the years when situations were dire and there was no time to waste. My wolf releases her hold on our form, and our souls drift apart as her wolfish features pull away, leaving only me in possession of our body.

I rush forward and bite back a gasp as I see Harlan and Hess lying before me, both healers scrambling to save them. Harlan’s wolf whines, quietly snapping my attention back to her, and I kneel down and shove my hands in her bloodied fur, knowing healers need contact to do what they do.

Vorria places a hand on my arm and the other against the bleeding hole in Harlan’s side. I keep replaying the image of her jumping in the path of a bullet that could have killed my mate. My eyes burn, and I beg the spark of magic that exists inside of me to help her. The Ruin Falls’ healer chants something so quietly that I can’t make it out. Instead of focusing on the words, I allow the rhythm of how she’s saying them to wash through me, while I try to lend her everything I can to help the wolf beneath our touch.

The telltale coolness of healing magic seeps out from Vorria’s hands, coating Harlan’s body. I add that same heady warmth I felt when Vorria asked me to help with the knife wound in my stomach, hoping I’m actually doing something. The third healer presses sharp looking tongs into Harlan’s wound at the same time, and I can’t help the warning growl that spills out of my lips when he twists them, causing Harlan to yelp in pain.

Tyran steps up, shifted back to his human form as he presses a hand against my back to calm my growl. “It’s okay, Vicious. He has to get the bullet out, or we’ll never be able to heal her completely,” he assures me, and I do my best to swallow down my warning.

With another twist, the other healer pulls the mouth of the tongs out, which are now clamped around a small piece of metal. I stare at the bullet, hating how something so small could cause so much damage. The healer drops it into a pad of gauze, and I focus all my attention back on the she-wolf, making sure we fix her up and get her back on her feet in no time.

Harlan’s bleeding slows, and I watch in awe as the wound slowly knits back together. Her uneven pants begin to even out into