Page 6 of Mated Exile

Pacing over to Kieran and Roarke, I find them both covered in open wounds and limping from strains and bruises. Kieran is lying down on the ground, bloody tongue lolling from his mouth, panting in agonized pain. Roarke nudges him with his nose and whines; he looks up with silver eyes, the yearning in his face obvious.

I shake my head. His muzzle dips, mournfully. Looking up towards the trees, he has the same thought I did—I can tell. More than anything, he wants to go to her.

But the pack calls, and without a scent trail, we could spend weeks looking for her in pack territory alone. If she's in the vampire lands now, as I suspect, it might take even longer than that. We can't afford to go off half-cocked and injured. Even a single night of healing and resting will improve our odds of actually finding and saving her.

That doesn't change the fact that it feels like a betrayal to go over to Kieran instead, shove my weight up under him, and help him get up on unsteady legs. He whimpers and licks his lips, trembling all over, the agony of his many injuries catching up with him as the adrenaline leaves his body.

Up ahead, I can tell Finn feels the same as he limps towards the boundaries of the woods, his injured foot curled up beneath him. If he shifts back to his human form now, the bone may never set right—and he'd have a hell of a time walking on one leg instead of three.

Somehow we make it through, dragging ourselves step by step until the trees thin out, then fall away. A familiar warm light in the distance catches my eye. The wind shifts, and I catch a scent on the air.

Warm cherry pie and aged scotch on the rocks, it's the scent of a woman with a twist of hard edges and a soft inside. Catherine Banks, Delilah's mother in every way. As we get closer, I can see that she's standing on the very edge of the porch, watching and waiting.

For her.

As soon as we hobble out of the darkness and into the light, her eyes land on us and a pained gasp leaves her mouth. Rushing forward, she babbles, "I'll call 911—wait, no, that's not the number here. 114?"

I nod my shaggy head, and she pulls her phone out of her pocket, dialing and lifting it to her ear. Her eyes never stop scanning the darkness.

Behind me, Finn is the last one to hobble out towards Cat. He falls to the ground, panting and strained. Her eyes land on him, then keep searching, looking. Someone will have to tell her.

Slowly, I move out from under Kieran, letting him fold his bloody form down onto the earth. Shaking myself off, I shift as quickly as my injuries will allow, wincing and gritting my teeth as new flesh sets over changing bones.

As soon as I have the right mouth and tongue to speak again, I open my lips—only to be interrupted by Roarke, who has somehow had the same idea.

"She isn't with us, Catherine," he says, eyes grave and hands out as he goes to her, takes her shoulders, and comforts her softly. "I'm going to lead a party back out to comb the woods and find her, as soon as I can. I promise you."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I tilt my head, and consider the call that brought Finn and me out to the woods in the first place. It was a piercing, ringing sound, one that dragged me out into the dark and shifted my body into my wolf form before I was even aware what was going on. My fangs had pierced vamp flesh by the time I realized we were under attack, and Delilah was at the center of it, vulnerable and afraid.

I'd thought it was instinct that called me out. The land, perhaps, waking up. Now as I watch Roarke move his hand to Cat's back and soothe her, I wonder.

Maybe he's waking up to the uncommon strength that beats inside his chest, and realizing there are those who need his warmth and forgiveness whoaren'this childhood best friend.

* * *

The clinic doctors take one look at our wounds and immediately prioritize Finn. There are two of them, sent by emergency services to meet us here. In werewolf territory, the doctors know better than to bring a shifter straight to the middle of a bright noisy hospital.

"Get him up on a flat surface," they tell us. "We don't have much time before the bone will start to heal in the wrong position."

It takes all of us to get him up on the dining room table, his wolf form twitching and snarling beneath our hands. I wince a little as fresh blood pools on the recently sanded hardwood floors, and mentally add another task to my to-do list. One of the doctors, a big burly man with broad shoulders, moves towards Finn's rear end to place his hands on the leg. The female doctor hangs back with a splint ready to go, watching him wrap his hands around the bone.

"This won't be easy," the doctor warns, his grip tightening. "I'll try to make it fast, though."

As he starts to shift the bone back beneath the skin, Finn twists and snarls in his grip. He jerks his rear leg out of the human doctor's hands and snaps in the air, his silver eyes glowing bright, every sharp fang in his mouth on display. I take a step back, wary, eyeing Kieran in the other room as his wolf responds to the anger as well, ears lying flat on his head.

"We'll have to get the iron restraints," he says, glancing at his colleague. "They're back at the clinic, so hurry. Have Roger help you get them."

"Wait." I glance over at the doctors, then Finn's leg. "How long will that take? Will his bone start to heal before then?"

They exchange glances. The woman says, not unkindly, "It's hard to say definitively, but there's quite likely to be long-term damage."

Meaning Finn would always struggle to run in wolf form, and his shifts would be impacted. His human form could be affected as well, the leg bent or even crippled.

Looking across the dining room table, I stare Roarke down, feeling the weight of tension in the air. "You can calm him down. Then we won't need the restraints."

His eyes widen, his expression shifting rapidly between different emotions: shock, nervousness, and finally, acceptance. With a sharp nod, he moves to the end of the table, near Finn's head.

I watch him take a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed. His shoulders draw together and his body bows, curving in the middle tenderly. He places his hands on Finn's head and neck, fingers curling into the fur as the dark wolf responds with a menacing growl. A moment later, I feel it in the air.

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