Page 35 of The Healer

PROOF IN THE CLAWS

Amongthedebrisofsplintered tables and chairs in Tuesdays, Jake sat on top of a man—Edison, Ilona presumed—whose scrambling feet shifted broken glass on the floor. Jake tried to grab the man’s legs but received knee butts in the chest and face for his efforts. The bartender, Aiden, held Edison’s arms, pinning them with his weight.

Dane joined the fray, throwing his body across the legs. Jake flipped over and swung a fist. The sound of it striking Edison’s jaw echoed in the silence.

Drawing in ragged breaths, Jake relaxed, flashing Ilona a pleased smile. “And no, we don’t expect you to handle this.”

Aiden peeled himself off the floor, freeing Edison’s hands. Ilona blinked at a human limb morphed into a cat’s paw. She knelt beside the unconscious man and gathered his hand in hers, marveling at the thick fur and man-sized paw. It twitched as claws extended in slow motion.

“Lona, move.” A roar whipped her head up.

Mr. Naked launched himself at her as claws raked across her shoulder. Fire tore through her, summoning tears, then hundreds of pounds landed on top of her, crushing her to the tiled floor.

Air rushed out of her lungs. She gasped, unable to breathe with a man on her chest. He lifted himself off her. She sucked in beer-stench, delicious-man-scented air, sweeter than the first breath of spring. Her swift enjoyment of her ability to live was overshadowed by the hot liquid on her shoulder, and the agony numbing her left arm.

She snuck a glance at Edison to find him unconscious again with Jake sprawled across him. Shoving Mr. Naked back with her good hand, she got to her feet, fury stiffening her body as her wound burned.

“What the fuck?” She threw her good hand in the air while she paced, uncaring that she had an audience. “I’m the fucking doctor here. Who’s helping me?” She clenched her jaw. “I could kill Gran and Amos. You too.” She pointed at Dane, then Jake, and ignored the sensual blue eyes of the stranger she had no right to ogle. Tightness gripped her chest when her vision spun. She shivered. “I’m not capable of handling this. Not now, maybe not ever. What was Gran thinking?” Tears welled and flowed down her cheeks, but she tossed her head back on a hysterical laugh, sounding like a hyena. “I’m cursed. I’m living evidence magic exists. Cursed, I tell you.”

“Come, Lona, let’s get you to the clinic.” Mr. Naked cupped her cheeks, forcing her to focus on his handsome face, the sharp angle of his jaw, his sensual lips, the softness of his beard.

She giggled. “What, are you going to stitch and bandage me?”

“I can do it.” Aiden raised a hand. “I have a little first aid training.”

Dane nodded. “I’ll drive.”

The warmth of Mr. Naked standing so near to her penetrated her jacket. She sighed, leaning into his confident strength as he escorted her outside. He lifted her into the back of the SUV, spreading her across the seat before joining her. When he tucked her against his warmth, she slumped, fighting the ebb and flow of the pain lashing at her.

Her turn to stare. She tightened her fingers on her thighs against the silly urge to stroke his beard. “And you are?”

He arched a brow.

“Well, I can keep calling you Neanderthal, Mr. Naked, Mr. Balls-to-the-wind, but I have a feeling you might prefer your name.”

His chuckle rumbled from his belly, vibrating along her side. “Rhys.”

“Reece?” She tested his name on her tongue, nodded, and snuggled into him, needing his solid body to prop her up.

Dane pulled off, but the trip was short, not that she tried to look at the wound. There wasn’t enough light anyway. Like she weighed nothing, Rhys lifted her into his arms and marched into a dark, dank building. She clung to him, unused to being carried. Burying her nose into the curve of his neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to savor his mesmerizing cologne.

The flickering lights bathed a cozy yet dusty waiting room, a built-for-one reception counter, and wide-swinging doors. Four doors led off the short passage. After navigating through one into a consultation room, he lowered her onto the bed but kept his hand on her back as if she might faint.

Despite shivering at his touch warming her through the thin fabric of her clothes, she snorted. A Strickland was made of sturdy stock. No fainting here despite the spots circling her vision. That was shock.

Aiden rifled through the cupboards and banged the doors. She smiled at him like she was high. Sharp movements exploded a kaleidoscope of colors across her vision, and parts of her face numbed.

“Edison’s fur was mottled, is that normal?” She glanced at Dane, trying to ignore Rhys staring at her. “Mange?” She giggled. “Not that I’m a vet.”

Aiden returned with a pile of medical supplies, dumped it on the bed, and gestured to the Mr. Naked to step back.

“Wait, help me remove the jacket.” She bit the sleeve and tugged, entangling her right arm.

Rhys peeled the jacket off her, using a snail’s caution on her left side. Blood saturated the inner lining and had drenched her shredded white T-shirt.

She grimaced at the thought of raising her arm to peel off the T-shirt. “Cut it off me.”

Aiden hesitated. She cursed while twisting and wiggling until she could slide the shirt over her head, grunting and whimpering when each movement bolted fire down her chest. The T-shirt gathered at her neck. She raised an expectant gaze to Rhys. He clenched his jaw, his focus intense as he peeled it off her, his touch surprisingly gentle for his size.

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