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“Why won’t you fucking do anything?” Declan demanded. I glanced over my shoulder to see him strain against Lane’s magic. “You have magic—”
“It won’t work,” he snapped. He hit Killian’s cheek harder. “Come on… come on, you furry motherfucker. Wake up!”
“Why not?” Declan pushed harder.
“Because my magic is her magic!” Lane exploded. “My magic won’t do shit against hers because it made her magic! I was there when your ancestor ravaged an entire continent by creating wolves without direction. Without discipline! I was there when the streets ran red with the blood of men, women, and children! I was there when entire fucking towns were burned to the goddamn ground! You want to talk about a fucking plague? Your kind was the fucking plague! I did something about it! Me! I made the hunters!”
Eyes wide, I stared at him. He was completely undeterred from his task of trying to wake Killian up. A loud growl filled the night as Nolan put a hand on Declan’s chest to hold him back.
Me? I just stared at Lane. The way he talked… there was no way he was that old. There was just no way…
“You wouldn’t fucking win, boy, so quit while you’re ahead,” Lane snarled, his gaze flicking to Declan briefly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve killed your kind. The last one I killed was a murderer a hundred years ago. Your kind turned non-violent and so did we. I’ve spent a long fucking time disbanding the major guilds of hunters around the world.”
“You clearly failed,” Declan retorted.
“Fanatics always exist,” he said. “Come on, wolf boy, I need you to wake up. I need you to fucking wake up and whistle, damn it.”
“Why do you want him to whistle?” I practically yelled at him. “Save his life!”
“I’m fucking trying! Damn it, Killian!” He smacked him again, and Killian awoke with a start. He grappled with Lane’s hands as he fought back weakly. Lane grabbed his hands, squeezing tight for support. “Whistle, you stubborn fucking man. I can’t save your ass if you don’t fucking whistle.”
Killian groaned as he settled back on the ground. The tiniest three-note whistle passed through his lips—so quiet I almost missed it—before he passed out again. Lane’s hold on his hands increased while his attention snapped to the forest line at the edge of our yard.
I followed his gaze. What was he looking for? My heart raced faster in my chest with thoughts of the hunter. What if she found us here? Did we even stand a chance?
Something moved in the darkness. My whole body locked up with fear.
“What the hell is that?” Declan asked.
A wolf stepped out of the woods, dark-furred and midnight eyes. Its hackles raised as it approached. The rest of us might as well have not existed from the way it honed in on Lane and Killian. I stared at it, wide-eyed with shock.
I’d recognize Killian’s wolf anywhere.
But…
My eyes flicked down to my husband.
“How…” I whispered.
“He needs you,” Lane said to the wolf. A deep growl was its response. It shoved hard into Lane, knocking him back on his ass. It lowered gingerly down on the ground beside Killian, laying its head on his chest with a mournful whine. That sound transitioned to a dangerous growl when Lane reached for Killian. “Easy, beast.”
Lane took hold of Killian’s wrist and tugged on a slip of string until it snapped. Speechless, I watched as his wolf glittered with black magic. Its form sagged and seized against Killian’s body until it disappeared, practically melting into my husband.
Chapter 115
Genevieve
How did I touch him? My hands hovered over Killian’s unconscious body. On our dining table. With blood puddling on the floor.
Lane had torn off Killian’s shirt, and it was so much worse than I expected. The deep bruises and cuts, the stabs and rapid breathing. He looked so broken. It terrified me. But Lane insisted he’d be fine. He just needed time to heal now that he had his wolf back.
Which confused me. I couldn’t imagine why Killian wanted his wolf separated from him, even though Lane had explained it three times over.
“You’re the first hunter,” Declan said once again. He paced the length of our living room, his attention on Lane as he did. “You’re thousands of years old, and you have magic.”
“Doesn’t matter how many fucking times you say it, it won’t fucking change,” Lane muttered. His focus remained solely on Killian. His touch was surprisingly delicate as he stitched shut the two stab wounds. “Your whole family history is tainted with the blood of my ancestors. The three ancestors that migrated to America weren’t fucking saints, you know. They turned any human who they came in contact with. But at least they did something about helping them. Aodhán… Aodhán was a fucking dick with a goddamn agenda. He turned people for riches and turned people for sport. But he didn’t do a fucking thing about it, letting loose hundreds of feral wolves across an entire continent.”
“That’s awful,” I whispered. No matter how unbelievable the story was, the scenario was horrific. Chancing it, I carefully took Killian’s hand in mine. It was the only thing I could think to do.
