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Someone touches my shoulder. There’s shouting near the door. Archer is dying in my arms. The buzzing grows until it explodes into a crescendo of agony. A scream rips from my throat at the sight of Archer’s pale, lifeless face. He’s hurt. No, he’s dying.
As if the scream shatters the fog around me, the need for action burns through the haze. I yank Archer’s shirt up, searching for the source of the blood, but there’s so much. Too much. An endless pool emptying from where it belongs.
My hands shake as I push them against Archer’s stomach. It doesn’t matter where the wound is. I’m going to heal him regardless of where he’s hurt. Closing my eyes, I block out everything but the feel of Archer’s skin. It’s wet, slippery with his blood, and as much as I don’t want to think about it, I have to.
“You can’t leave. We just got started.” I choke on the whispered words and then search inside myself for what I’ve come to recognize as my magic. It’s a low hum of power deep in the center of me. Though I can’t physically see it, in my mind, it has a bright golden glow, sunny and brilliant, just like Archer. Its warmth swarms me as I call to it, feeling as though the power shoots through my body like a synapse firing. I guide the magic, willing it into my hands and push it into Archer.
I can feel his wound now, the deep slash of a knife that’s been thrust into his stomach. It’s bad. So bad.
Heal. Heal. Heal. It’s all I think, just that one word over and over.
I don’t know how long I push my magic into Archer. The time is both endless and moving in flashes. He’s still bleeding too much.
“It’s not working.” I sob, looking around the room for the first time since I realized Archer had been stabbed.
Colton fucking stabbed him.
Tables are broken, chairs and stools are upended, and my friends are standing around Archer and I protectively. When my eyes land on Colton, an unholy sound leaves my throat.
“You piece of shit,” I scream, but I don’t go after him like I want to. I’m still holding Archer’s body and pushing what little bit of magic I can into him.
“It’s touching. How hard you’re trying.” Another voice speaks and I tear my glower away from Colton, and I see who I missed before.
Anthony and Serafina. They’re standing near Colton, looking like they just came from a fucking gala. Anthony’s in a tux and Serafina’s garbed in some ridiculously low-cut floor-length gown. It’s covered in purple sequins and tacky as hell.
“What are you doing here?” I force out through gritted teeth, sweat beading on my brow. My arms are shaking, and Archer’s breaths are shallow.
Anthony straightens out his cuffs and flicks an invisible piece of lint off his shoulder. “I’m here to fulfill my part of the bargain.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Rhys hurls at Anthony, his voice rough and raw. He’s leaning forward, looking two seconds away from pummeling Anthony, but he stays put, guarding me and Archer.
Anthony tilts his head, his eyes scanning over all of us. He looks supremely satisfied. “It means I’m here to help these two lovebirds complete their bond.”
“Why the fuck do you think we’ll let you anywhere near them?” Ruby spits out, arms on her hips, as if that’s going to make her any bigger.
“So your friend doesn’t die, of course.”
“I won’t let him die. I will heal him.” I snarl, not bothering to look back up at the prick.
“Except you don’t have the power to fix this. Not on your own.” Anthony steps forward and the chorus of growls, hisses, and curses only slows him for a second.
“You need your bonded to give you more power, and oh my, I don’t think that’s going to happen, is it?”
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I will shove this broom up your ass. Bristles first,” Ezra promises, knuckles gripping a broom that was probably used to create some of the damage in the bar.
“Down boy. I’m only trying to help.”
“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” I yell, my entire body shaking. “We can’t keep arguing about this. Archer is going to die.”
A tear slips free, sliding down my cheek and falling onto Archer’s chest. “What do we need to do?” God, can we even do this? Archer’s not conscious. And it’s wrong to take away his choice in this, but the alternative means his death. Is there really a choice at all?
I hear the shuffle of Anthony moving in close, but don’t take my eyes from Archer. Anthony sighs as he lowers himself to one knee, flicking out a handkerchief and laying it down on the ground first. Rage bellows in my chest and I want to punch Anthony so badly, but now is not the time.
My teeth start to chatter as I push more energy into Archer. All I’m doing at this point is keeping him from losing any more blood. I’m not fixing any more of the damage Colton caused.
“How can we bond when he’s unconscious?” I exhale, the heavy weight of acceptance pressing down on my shoulders.
“I can help with that.”
