“I’m alive,” Donovan groans, his face twisted in pain. “But...I’m going to need to go to the hospital this time.”
Considering he didn’t go to the hospital when he nearly bled out in my backyard on Halloween, my mind races through what injury would be bad enough for Donovan to seek human intervention.
“What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” I ask, investigating for any open wounds, but he doesn’t appear to be bleeding and nothing is pointing at any wrong angles.
His hand shakes as he grabs my wrist, his grip tight with urgency. “I…I can’t feel my legs.”
“No. Oh God, no,” I cry, my free hand covering my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he soothes, his breathing coming in tight, shallow gasps. “I’m not human. I’ll…probably heal back to normal, but this time, I’ll need a doctor.”
“Probably?” I screech, my head shaking side to side. “No. You will heal. I can fix it. I can fix you. Just hold on.”
“Callie…” He exhales. For the first time, I can see genuine fear in his eyes. “Get me a doctor. I don’t want to scare you, but if I heal wrong, shit is going to be really bad.”
“Exactly! And who do you think has more experience healing someone to full recovery? Doctors that will humpty-dumpty you back together? Or me, someone that has literally healed or regrown my own cut off appendages, splintered, cracked, or crushed bones, and pretty much anything remotely fleshy on my body? I’ve had to heal worse hundreds of times,” I assure him, retrieving my hand from his grasp. “It’s like riding a bicycle.”
“Just make sure my insides stay inside me,” Donovan grinds out, wincing with every breath.
“Have a little faith,” I quip, trying to keep my voice light and calm, so he doesn’t know how badly I’m freaking out on the inside. “Now shush while I work.”
“Do what you gotta do,” he groans, then closes his eyes. His brows are furrowed, his normally rich olive skin is pale, and sweat drips down his face into his thick, black hair.
Guilt eats its way through me, because the truth is, I don’t know how to heal him—only myself. I can’t visualize it within him. I don’t know the human body well enough to know exactly what needs to be fixed. It has always been automatic within me.
Fortunately, I recently uncovered a spell within my mother’s grimoire that can make us one and the same. Most of her spells focused around different ways to ease other people’s suffering. This one was earmarked dangerous as hell, but effective when all else fails. Because magic wants to survive.
I put out a silent prayer to anyone that’s listening and gently place my hands on Donovan’s chest. Letting my own eyes slip closed, I use my innate ability to gaze into the spirit that lies within him. Opening myself completely, I imagine myself pouring into him as I chant, “Your body is my body. Your pain is my pain. In this moment, we are one.”
I fall into this trance-like state where I can still sense my body, but I’m no longer contained within it. Instead, I’m awash in Donovan’s senses and sense of self. Wounds old and new litter his inner being, some still raw and bleeding through the cracks of what holds him together. Loneliness echoes within him like a beating pulse, and it embraces his inevitable death. A twisted desire for release that leaves my soul weeping. And guilt. There’s so much guilt that it’s splattered over nearly every part of his soul—a dark and deadly thing that seems to only grow and multiply.
But in his darkness and pain, there’s still a small burning light. A seedling nurtured by love. His love for those few he holds close, and their love in return. Desperate to watch it bloom and grow roots that cannot be destroyed, I add the full depth of my own feelings. Holding nothing back, I leave pieces of myself within him, building a foundation of love that cannot be broken and cannot be denied. No matter what path he travels, he will know without a doubt that he is loved. He is wanted. He is never alone.
So distracted by his inner pain, I’m nearly lost within him, and it takes time to remember my real purpose for being here. Settling in, I shift my focus to his other senses, absorbing what his body is telegraphing and what it could be hiding.
Instantly, I feel the physical injuries. Familiar pain that I’ve experienced multitudes of times, but somehow worse with the knowledge that this isn’t pain I bear alone. There’s bruising, a hairline fracture in his right arm—likely from bracing his fall—three cracked ribs, and a mild concussion, but the real damage is to his spinal cord. There are two fractured vertebrae in his lower back that are crushing his spinal cord. I embrace each one of his injuries as I drag times I healed similar ones from my memory, and set my magic to work with a simple command.Heal me.
Donovan exhales with relief as my magic gets to work mending what is broken, and I can feel it like it’s the air from my own lungs. It will take time to repair the damage, so I take a moment to absorb this experience of oneness. The physical—the weight of his body sinking into the soft underbrush and the light scent of something floral and sweet breaking through the more prevalent dirt and green things. The mental—his thoughts twisting around concern for me, knowing he’d never forgive himself if I was harmed trying to save him. The emotional—a want for someone he insists he doesn’t deserve to have. Me.
I guess that answers that question.
His eyes slowly crack open, and through his gaze, I see myself slumped over his chest. Pale and barely breathing, my face looks like it’s been cast from porcelain—frozen in its blank slumber.
That’s probably bad.
“Callie,” Donovan croaks, his big hand lifting to shake my shoulder in an attempt to wake me. “You did it. I’m all healed up. Can feel my legs and everything.”
Shit. Right. Getting back.I search for the threads that connect me to my body—lines I can follow home, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be. So many parts of myself are scattered beyond my physical body, not only in Donovan, but in my bond with Connor, my blood in Nolan, and there’s even a link tethering Felix to me. Kaleb seems to be the only one not supernaturally marked by me.
Well, this is awkward.
“Angel, damn it! Don’t do this to me. Wake up!” Donovan pleads, sitting up and pulling my unresponsive body into his arms. “The guys will kill me if you don’t wake up, and I can’t say I would stop them. Fuck, you’re alone with me unsupervised for an hour, and I put you in a goddamn coma.”
I try to send out the thoughts that I’m okay, only a little lost at the moment, but apparently, this whole ‘being one’ thing has its limitations.
“I keep saying how we’d be a train wreck together,” he murmurs, his voice thick as he rubs my arms and back. Sensing through his hands, I’m shocked with how cold I feel. I might as well have a sheet of ice coating my skin. “Should’ve guessed that also applied to being around me. Knowing me is what killed Felix and his whole fucking family. Because of me, Nolan’s sister is burning in Hell forever. Kaleb apparently fucking idolizes me, and it’s going to get his ass killed. The only one of us I haven’t managed to fuck up is Connor and that’s only because he’s the only one that’s more screwed up than me.”
He cradles my face, his forehead pressed to mine, and whispers his confessions. “I don’t know what to do, Angel. I know I should’ve stayed away, but you have a way of getting under a guy’s skin. I couldn’t then, and I can’t let go of you now. So you have to come back, okay? You have to.”
