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Just a few minutes ago, I had been worried about never finding my mate, and suddenly they were here in my cave. But that wasn’t the only thing hitting my senses, and my heart started pounding at the realization that the metallic scent of blood was his. I surged forward.
If my mate was truly in that cave, then he was hurt. If he wasn’t out here, my scent drawing him to me, then he was hurt badly. Very, very, badly.
I dropped my pack to the forest floor and rushed toward the entrance. My mate needed me, and all sense of self-preservation faded away. Against my better judgment, I entered the cave without any thought of assessing the danger that might lie in there. This blood wasn’t drawn by accident. There was too much for that. The trail of too much blood on the ground was visible and would’ve been even to a human’s eyes.
The person, my mate, hadn’t been there long; the blood was still bright red and wet, not yet dried. Even knowing that, I hadn’t been prepared for the sight that lay before me when I was fully inside.
A man—a lion—lay face-first on my sleeping bag, as if he had fallen and not intended to use the bag at all. He wore ripped and muddy jeans, with no shirt. It looked like there possibly had been one, but whatever remained of it was just rags that hung around his middle. Bruises and cuts adorned his back and shoulders, and his hair was a mess of twigs, leaves, and tangles, the part of it not saturated with blood.
“Hello,” I said tentatively, not wanting to scare him.
He responded only with a groan. I rushed outside for my pack and brought it back inside, grateful I had it with me. I’d planned to come in beast form this time, but at the last minute, Morgan had handed me a new emergency kit to replenish the one I had, and I thought it would be wise to bring the old one here.
I fumbled for the kit, never so grateful for following my instincts in my life. It wouldn’t help much, but maybe there was something I could do. At this point, any help was help well needed.
Kneeling beside the man, I put a hand to his skin and nearly pulled it away. The heat of his skin was like putting my hand near a flame. However new those cuts were, infection had set in, and it was bad. Where was his lion? Was he too weak to help him shift? Was there something else at play that had prevented it? There were far more questions than I’d ever have answers to sitting here staring.
“I’m going to move you over. Not gonna lie, it’s going to hurt, but I need to assess your injuries and infection,” I said, wishing I had more healer experience. “If you can hear me, can you say something?”
He didn’t respond. Not a flinch or anything.
“Can you hear me?” I asked again.
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand. I leaned closer.
“Didn’t do it,” he said.
“Didn’t do what?” I questioned. “I have to move you over to see your injuries.”
Thankfully, he understood enough to at least help me to roll him over. Not that he managed to do much, but he wasn’t fighting me, and that went a long way.
I had to bite back my reaction. He didn’t need to know how bad off he was. My training kicked in, and I scanned him for injuries, not allowing myself to have emotions about it. Emotions would lead to mistakes, and I wasn’t sure that handled perfectly, he’d pull out of it.
I noted the side of his face, bloody and swollen. The features contorted where his nose had been broken. The blood trickling down from his head injury made it difficult to tell how extensive each one was on its own. But really, at this point that didn’t matter. Not with the infection.
He sucked in a ragged breath, drawing my attention to mouth.
“Nathan,” he muttered under his breath.
“Is that your name?” I asked. “Who are you?”
“No, omega,” he replied.
“Nathan is your omega?” My heart lurched, and my cougar let out a yowl within me. He couldn’t have an omega. I was his omega. Would fate truly deliver my mate to me only to have him be taken by another? If they did, that didn’t change what I needed to do here, and letting it all up in my head was only going to harm him. He was my mate no matter what, and my beast would never allow harm to come to him because I struggled with my emotions.
“What’s your name?” I asked. “I need to get you help.”
“Looking for me.” His voice was fading, and his eyes were no longer open.
I didn’t want to force him to stay awake, not when his body so desperately needed the sleep. I had no choice. I needed answers if I was going to be able to protect him.
“Who’s looking for you?” I asked.
“Steelwick,” he replied.
My stomach dropped. If they were coming for him, trouble was on our heels. I knew enough of them to know they were good guys, which could only lead me down a path indicating my mate was not. I shut that shit down so fast. He didn’t have time to wait for me to worry about what any of that might mean before acting.
“I’m going to work on cleaning your cuts.” Would it help as much as a full cleaning back at my pride? Possibly. But with the infection already settled in, nothing could help as much as full-on medical treatment could. It would give me some pretty good data in assessing him, though, and that could go a long way.
