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“Benedict, you’re white as a fucking sheet,” Hawke said, leaning forward slightly.
I lied. I’m sorry. Don’t trust my mother.
Jocelyn’s voice. The thoughts burst into my mind through the doorway the bond left open between us, and I sat upright, my spine stiffening. Pain exploded through every inch of my body, and I lurched to my feet.
“It’s not me,” I whispered. “It’s her. She’s hurt.”
“What do you—” Hawke started.
“What the fuck?” I was already tracking her through the bond, feeling the starlight of her aura far from where I’d last sensed her in the witch palace. She was in lycan territory, among a set of hills I’d visited the last time I’d been called to help.
I wended without another thought, cutting through the frigid night air as I folded the space between us. I opened my eyes and the world came back into focus, my boots planted in the dewy grass of the hillside just inside the lycan boundaries. A blush formed on the horizon.
Fuck me, dawn was approaching.
I opened my senses and tugged on the bond between us, following the threads that bound us as I raced down the hillside.
There. A puddle of lavender rested in the gulch below.
I wended, appearing at her side, and my stomach lurched as I fell to my knees beside her.
“Jocelyn,” I whispered, rolling her to her back and brushing the hair from her face. “Oh shit.”
Blood stained every visible inch of her skin, and the leathers she borrowed from Olivia were slick with crimson. Her sternum was split, the bone cracked straight through, and her pulse weak, the sound of her heart slowing with every beat.
“I’ve got you, little witch.” I scooped her into my arms as delicately as possible.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Her heart was failing. She was bleeding out right in front of me.
I cut out the panic and fear in order to concentrate and wended, focusing on Gabriel’s clinic, deep beneath the royal residence. The sterile scent of alcohol hit my nose before I even opened my eyes.
“Dear God,” the doctor muttered, dropping the sandwich he held in his hand as his eyes flew impossibly wide.
“Save her.” They were the only words I could force past my lips.
He nodded and pushed through the double glass doors that led to the trauma room in his infirmary. “Put her here.”
I gently laid Jocelyn’s limp frame on the gurney as two of Gabriel’s nurses appeared in the doorway.
“Call the king,” Gabriel ordered one of them as he got to work.
He sliced open Jocelyn’s leather top and bile rose in my throat. Her ribs were broken, the bones protruding from the skin at a macabre angle, and there was so much blood. Too much blood.
“She needs a transfusion,” he said to the nurse. “Witches can take O negative from what I know.” His concerned eyes met mine. “But I’m not an expert on witches, Benedict.”
“Do your best.” It killed me, but I stepped back, giving him more room to work around my unconscious mate.
“This is…” He shook his head even as he started a quick, triaging examination.
Monitors began to beep, telling me what I already knew. Her heart was failing.
“Fuck.” Alek’s hand clamped down on my shoulder as he appeared at my side, quickly followed by Hawke, Ransom, Lachlan, and Ajax.
“I found her at the edge of lycan territory,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
Gabriel’s hands were deep in Jocelyn’s chest.
My heart pounded, as if it could speed up Jocelyn’s by pure will.
“Lycans didn’t do this,” Gabriel countered, his eyes focused on wounds that I couldn’t see. “It’s meant to look like they did, but…” He shook his head.
“But what?” I snapped as the monitor beeped even slower. The blood transfusion wasn’t happening quick enough.
Her heart stuttered.
“But these wounds are magical, Benedict.” His hands worked at superspeed, his movements quicker and quicker even as the beats of her heart came slower and slower.
“What are you saying?” I lunged forward, but Alek and Lachlan held me back.
“There’s nothing I can do to surgically fix magical wounds,” he answered. “They just keep reopening. She’s losing too much blood. She has minutes. Maybe.” His tone was calm and collected, much like mine would have been were it not my mate on the table. My love. My everything.
Minutes.
“Get your hands out of her,” Ajax ordered.
“I beg your pardon?” Gabriel snapped, glancing over his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, my head whipping toward the giant Hunter.
“Trust me, brother,” Ajax said, his eyes locking on mine. “I mean your mate no harm. I can give us time. Am I lying?”
I couldn’t read my own body, the pain of Jocelyn and my dying bond consuming every sense.
Alek jerked up the sleeves of my Henley. “No lies.”
Instinct told me to trust Ajax, so I did. “Stop, Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked at us like we’d lost our collective minds, but he lifted his bloody, gloved hands from her chest.
