Page 30 of Dallas

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the seizing stopped. She went still, at peace again.

“What’s happening now?” I moaned, touching her face. It was ice cold. “She’s freezing.”

“You’ll have to change her out of those clothes now,” he decided. “I’ll find something in the bags, but you have to change her. If she’s cold, the wet clothing won’t help. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to see,” he added when I hesitated. “Just take her clothes off. I won’t watch.”

True to his word, he turned his back to us and began going through the suitcases while I wondered where to start. I removed her shoes and socks and wished I’d done so sooner when I saw how bone-white and wrinkled her skin had gone. She must have been so uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I went along. Why hadn’t I been smarter? I was supposed to be intelligent, but I had made all the wrong decisions.

There was no choice now but to remove the cotton pants she wore. No matter how bad it looked, she needed to be warm and dry.

“How are you progressing?” Dallas asked over his shoulder.

His voice spurred me to action. “Fine, thank you.” I worked the soft, elastic waistband over her hips and down her thighs. Only once I reached her knees did my heart clench, for now I could see the bruising and swelling. It was a terrible sight, and I had let it go on.

Dallas held out a stack of clothing, behind him, including a similar pair of loose, cotton pants. I put them on but rolled the legs up past her knees. I had to be able to see how she was healing. There could be no more avoiding her condition.

Her t-shirt came next, and my stomach turned at the sight of her dislocated shoulder.

“Do we need to reset this?” I asked, running gentle fingers over her coven tattoos before sliding her arm into the sleeve. The same symbols we all bore on our arms, shoulders, chests.

“It will reset itself.”

“How would you know?” I demanded. “You’ve never done this before, remember?”

“Do not take your concern for her out on me. I did what I could to help.”

“You behaved recklessly!”

He turned to me, his mouth twisted in a snarl. “If you possessed a tool that you knew had the power to help someone, to spare them from suffering, would you not use it? I know you would. I can sense it in you. That is all I tried to do. I wanted to help her. And I believe this is going to help. We need to give it time.”

“How much time? I know, I know.” I held up a hand to stop him, then returned to dressing Callie. “You have no way of knowing.”

“That’s right.”

I was about to say something else when I lifted Callie’s right arm—so cold—and found her shoulder had moved back into place.

It can’t be.

I moved it again—slowly, afraid to jar her too much—and I let out a cry of surprise. “Dallas!”

He was by my side in a moment, leaning over to watch me move Callie’s arm. As though some sort of magic had taken place which neither of us had ever seen before.

But it was magic. Blood magic, or something like it.

“I always heard about the power of your blood, but I never imagined I would see it with my own eyes.” I lowered her arm, still as slowly and gently as possible.

There was no bruising on her shoulder, at least nothing I could see when I pushed her sleeve up. Only her ink.

“It’s working,” he marveled. “It’s really working.”

The relief in his voice mingled with the relief in my heart, and this time, when I threw myself into his arms, it was an act of joy.

That joy spread and grew and led to me taking his face in my hands and pressing my lips to his before good sense told me not to.

13

The kiss lasted all of three seconds, and the surprise of it meant I was not fully in the moment. Too busy marveling at the fact that it happened to react. By the time she pulled back, wide-eyed and breathless, it was too late to react.

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