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Sniffing Isaiah, she carefully clambered onto his stomach, her light-green eyes tired.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft. He wanted to cuddle, nuzzle, and surround her protectively. But he didn’t dare even touch her until she’d been healed, not wanting to accidentally aggravate any of her wounds.
His cat glided up to writhe just beneath Isaiah’s skin, anxious to comfort her. He hated the scent of her pain; hated the fatigue dragging at her bones.
As a strange energy ever so slowly began to ease into his body, Isaiah glared at her. “No, do not use up any of your strength relieving my pain.” But it was too late; the energy gradually chipped away at the agony tearing through him.
The cat didn’t look one bit sorry. She met his gaze evenly, a Whatcha gonna do about it? challenge there.
Vinnie let out a soft snicker. “She could no more ignore your pain than you could ignore hers. You know that.”
Helena materialized at their side, wincing. “Oh, hell.”
“Heal Quinley’s cat first,” Isaiah told her.
Kneeling beside him, Helena rested a hand over the little black-foot.
Isaiah felt a faint echo of healing energy sizzle through his mate; felt her pain lessen and lessen until finally it disappeared. Helena gave him the same aid, and he felt his injuries right themselves.
“Thank you,” Isaiah said to the healer, gathering his mate into his arms as he sat upright. “Alex took a bullet to the chest, just in case you didn’t know.”
“I’ll see to him,” said Helena. “If someone can convince him to shift back, that is—he’s presently having way too much fun mauling the wolf over there.”
“Typical of Alex’s wolverine,” muttered Vinnie, standing. He and Helena then melted away.
Isaiah nuzzled his mate, who gave his jaw a quick lick. “You had them idiots running around chasing their asses, didn’t you?” He was proud of her even as he wanted to shake her for not simply remaining out of sight. “Let me look at you.”
Even as he intellectually knew she was healed, he needed to see for himself that her wounds were all gone. He carefully checked, skating his fingers through her fur; earning himself the occasional yowl of complaint when he accidentally plucked at the matted strands.
“Sorry,” he said, cuddling her close. “I’m done now.”
His own cat—still in full-on protective mode—wanted to take her upstairs, lick the blood from her coat, and tuck her away someplace safe and comfortable so she could rest. A place where no one else would know where she was.
Isaiah was certainly behind the cleaning-and-cosseting-her plan. He wouldn’t even mind hiding her away from the world. But there was something he needed to do first.
He gently bumped her nose with his own. “You stay here,” he began, a deadly intent creeping into his voice, “while I go murder the living fuck out of the bastard who tried to take you from me.”
He rose to his feet and carefully set her down on the upturned sofa. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He purposefully strode over to where Sebastian lay, flailing and crying out.
The wolf was still covered head to toe in pallas cats, all of whom were delighting in introducing him to a new level of pain. The scent of his blood was sharp in the air.
“Back up,” Isaiah barked out.
The cats reluctantly did so, though they didn’t retreat completely. They kept the wolf’s limbs pinned to the floor with their weight.
Sebastian stared up at him, his gaze glazed over with pain, anger, and powerlessness. He looked… pitiful. A mess.
Claw marks crisscrossed over his face, many of which sliced through his lips, eyelids, nose, and eyebrows. Strips had been torn from his scalp. His clothes were ripped enough that Isaiah could see the many puncture wounds and rake marks littering his body.
Isaiah towered over him, both he and his cat admittedly liking the sight of all those injuries. The wolf deserved every single one of them—not only for what he’d done since targeting the pride but all the crimes he’d committed before then.
“You should never have come here.” Isaiah sliced out his claws. “Which I suppose you’ve already figured out by now.”
Sebastian gifted him a sneer. “What kind of dominant male shifter needs their pride mates to hold down another before they’ll strike? Let us fight one-to-one.”
“I would. If you were worth it. But you’re not. I don’t duel with those I don’t respect. I just kill them.”
The wolf’s attention cut to the side as Quinley’s cat flounced over, twitching her tail.
