Page 42 of The Protector’s Heart

He covered her hand with his and pressed them into his neck. “I’m already healing, love.”

Her thumb rubbed back and forth on his skin, and he smiled at her, even though it made his lip split open further, and blood ran down his chin.

“Thank you.”

“It was my honor and duty to see you safe.” He chuckled when he realized how corny that sounded. Trying again, he said, “Sweetheart, you’re my mate, my other half. Anyone that threatens you has to get through me, first, okay? I want you to be able to make your own choices and to stop looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. I’d go to the grave to see you free from your past.”

That was a really harsh truth, and he could see that his words affected Nila. Even in the dark of the vehicle he could see tears glittering in her eyes.

He bit back his groan as he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He urged his healing nature to work faster, but his body didn’t listen to him. Broken ribs, deep bruises, claws marks—they all took time to heal, but he didn’t want to wait until he was well to comfort her. She sobbed quietly against his shoulder, and he closed his eyes, wishing that he was already healed and they were already home.

“I’ve got him,” a voice spoke from a distance as Malachi felt himself being lifted in the air and laid down on something soft. He fought to open his eyes, but when he did, he was met with a blinding light.

“Oops, sorry, Malachi,” Doc said, flicking the penlight away.

He felt the air moving around him and it took his mind a minute to figure out that they were at Doc’s and he was on a hospital bed being wheeled into the clinic. His vision kept blinking in and out, and he really wanted to just go back to being unconscious, even though he was mildly embarrassed that he’d passed out.

“What do you need, Doctor?” Nila asked as the bed stopped moving and the scent of strong cleanser filled his nose. Her tone was brusque and businesslike, but he could hear a thread of worry.

“You’ve had training?” Doc asked.

“I’m a nursing assistant.”

Doc hummed in surprise. “Let’s find out. Malachi? Malachi? Open your eyes, son.”

Malachi forced his eyes to open, not sure when they’d even closed again, and blinked to clear the blur.

“Do you want to shift or do you want me to heal you?”

He felt Nila’s hand squeeze his arm, and he knew he wanted to be healed as soon as possible. He needed to get Nila, pick up Jack, and take them both home and keep them safe.

“Heal.”

“Right, this is not going to be fun for you,” Doc said.

“Wait, what?” Nila asked.

Malachi’s vision cleared enough for him to see her perfectly. “Faster.”

“Shouldn’t you shift? I thought…”

Her voice trailed off as Doc came to the bedside and handed Nila a small vial of clear liquid. “Put this on his wounds. It’s a healing potion that will speed up his natural abilities. He’ll be able to walk out of here in an hour.” Doc glanced at him and said, “It won’t be a fun hour, though.”

Malachi didn’t care. Shifting meant he couldn’t talk to Nila for several hours, and the stress of shifting while wounded would make him tired and he’d probably pass out. He was already pissed off that he’d passed out in the SUV on the way to Doc’s; he didn’t want to do it again. The healing potion would keep him awake, and he’d be better able to protect her and take care of her.

Nila uncorked the bottle and sniffed at the contents. “It smells a bit like eucalyptus.”

Malachi ground his teeth together for a minute as his vision blurred out from the pain. When he could talk without cursing, he said, “Sweetheart, please.”

Nila glanced at Acksel, who was standing at the end of the bed, and then looked at Malachi with resignation in her pretty brown eyes. She insisted on washing her hands first, which she did quickly, and then she began to apply the potion to his wounds. While she worked on his visible wounds, Doc made a poultice and packed it on his side, where he had at least one broken rib, wrapping the thick, antiseptic mush in cotton bandages and tying it tightly to his chest. Immediately he felt the poultice begin to work, seeping into his skin like it was laced with a million red-hot ants with razors for teeth. Nila said nothing as she worked, and Malachi kept his teeth clenched together so he didn’t scare her with the curse words he wanted to shout. Once, when he’d first shifted as a teenager, he’d been tumbling around with some of the other males and fallen into a bonfire. He’d rolled out of it quickly, but had singed his back leg and burned part of his skin. It had been painful as he’d waited for his body to heal him. This, though, was far worse. Between the potion that Nila was methodically applying to his cuts and bruises and the wrap around his chest, he felt like he was being cut apart slowly and stitched back together by sadistic doctors.

He blinked and Nila was pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. Had he passed out? Again? She touched his mouth with the cloth and it appeared red-tinged with blood. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her mouth puckered into a frown.

His voice cracked when he whispered, “You okay?”

She laughed, but it was high and forced. “Did you just ask me that? I wasn’t the one who went toe to toe with a psycho and then asked my girlfriend to torture me with some weird liquid.”

“Mate,” he said hoarsely.

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