Caressed by Ice

recognized him as Tamsyn’s mate. “Help me!”

He ran to the passenger-side door. “Shit,” he said when he saw Judd. “Move.” Pushing her aside, he grabbed Judd’s unconscious form and went to put him in a fireman’s carry.

“No!” She slapped a hand on Nate’s back, bare since he was dressed only in a pair of old jeans. “His chest —”

Nate looked down and seemed to notice what Judd’s torn sweater and jacket had hidden. “Christ.” Slinging Judd’s arm around his neck, he half dragged, half carried the other man into the house. “Damn Psy’s heavier than he looks.”

She’d noticed that, too. Judd seemed to have a higher bone mass than most other Psy. But right at that moment, all she cared about was the fact that he was breathing. Following on Nate’s heels, she barely remembered to close the door behind her.

“Put him on the table.” A crisp feminine command. “Kit—go up and make sure the cubs don’t come down.”

“Sure.” A tall auburn-haired teenager with sleepy eyes slipped past her.

“Chair.” Judd’s voice kicked her heart into hyperdrive. “Not table.” A demand.

“He’s as stubborn as the rest of you,” Tamsyn muttered, belting her robe. “Put him in the chair before he collapses and makes a mess of my floor.”

Brenna hovered as Nate obeyed Tamsyn’s command. “Who did he piss off this time?” the leopard asked, as Judd dragged himself upright in the chair, eyes not fully focused.

“Honey, could you get me the stitch gun?” Tamsyn was already working with healer efficiency, cutting off the clothing on Judd’s upper body.

Judd didn’t make a sound or betray pain in any other way. But when his eyes met Brenna’s, she was sure she saw worry in them. For her. Why? Not wanting to be in Tamsyn’s way but needing to touch him, she waited until the healer had disposed of the clothing before going to stand at his uninjured side, one hand on his shoulder. His skin burned.

Startled, she bit back her gasp. Judd’s skin had always felt slightly cooler than hers, as did Sascha’s and Faith’s. But tonight, he was an open flame. “Can I do anything to help?” she asked when he didn’t push off her hand.

“Here.” The healer handed her a damp cloth. “Gently wipe off the blood on his chest so I can see how deep the wounds are.”

“Not that deep,” Judd muttered, the words slurred but understandable.

“Be quiet.” Tamsyn’s tone was pure steel. “You could be a cat—bleeding to death but refusing to admit it.”

Nate walked in at that moment with a small metal case. “Julian’s still asleep. Roman woke, but Kit’s got him occupied.”

Nodding, Tamsyn began to clean the obvious blood off Judd’s arm as Brenna did the same to his chest. At least he’d stopped dripping fresh blood; it was clotting faster than she would’ve believed possible even a few minutes ago.

“Changeling wolf claws and teeth, if I’m not mistaken,” Tamsyn said, looking to Brenna for confirmation.

“Yes. In full wolf form.” She didn’t know if that made any difference, but it seemed to be the sort of thing a healer would want to know.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll give him an antibiotic shot anyway. Judd, are you allergic to anything?”

Judd shook his head very slowly. “Antibiotic fine.”

“Good thing we’re not infectious,” Nate said from his position leaning against the counter, “or you’d be going furry pretty damn soon.”

Brenna jerked up her head, about to tell him to stop with the cracks, when she realized he was trying to distract Judd from what had to be excruciating pain. Not that you could tell from looking at him.

She’d grown up around hard men—Riley was a SnowDancer lieutenant and when Andrew wasn’t babysitting her, he controlled the volatile San Diego sector for Hawke. Her father had been a soldier, too. But even her brothers would’ve winced at least once by now, and she knew for sure that they’d have sworn a blue streak and probably picked a fight with Nate to keep their minds off their mangled skin.

Not Judd. He was as unmoving as a statue.

Cleaning away the blood, she accidentally touched the raw edge of a wound. Her stomach clenched as if the hurt were her own. “I’m sorry, baby.” Just because he showed nothing didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Surely even Psy were incapable of shutting down their pain receptors.

His gaze never moved off her. The contact was intense in spite of the creeping fog in his eyes, but she held it, unable and unwilling to leave him to suffer in the cold loneliness of Psy Silence.

“I’m going to start stitching you up,” Tamsyn said, breaking the heart-pounding connection. “Here comes the antiseptic.”

Brenna had her hand on Judd’s chest as she wiped away a final red streak and even so close, she didn’t feel him flinch. That was beyond control—it was terrifying. What had Judd been through to gain such merciless command over his physical responses?

She saw Tamsyn pull out the stitch gun. “Wait! Aren’t you going to anesthetize him?” Those snapping stitches hurt.

“Psy have odd reactions to drugs, anesthetics included. Sascha and Faith put themselves under.” The healer met Judd’s eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

He gave a small nod. “Yes.” Closing his eyes, he went absolutely still. Brenna couldn’t even hear him breathe.

Handing Nate the bloody towel, Brenna gripped Judd’s hand and watched Tamsyn begin repairing muscle damage with a tiny internal-use stitch gun. “You’re very good.”

“I have a medical degree. Figured I might as well back up the healing gifts with good solid knowledge and equipment so I don’t spend my healing energy unnecessarily.” There was a darkness to the other woman’s tone, as if she were remembering a time when her gifts hadn’t been enough to save a life. “And you know how it is—we can assist each other with ideas and strategies, but changeling healers’ gifts only really work well within our own animal species. I can’t even get the gift to recognize Judd.”

Brenna nodded. “What did you mean about the drugs?”

“Hmmm.” She handed a slender metallic torch over to Brenna. “Shine that here so I can see what I’m doing.”

Keeping one hand on Judd’s, she did as asked. The beam delineated every tear, every shredded piece of flesh. Worry clawed through her veins, but she made sure her hand didn’t shake.

“It’s got something to do with their abilities and how energy is processed,” Tamsyn said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “That’s why Jax messes them up so bad.”

Nate’s explanation was blunter. “Drugs fuck with their powers. Sascha refuses to touch even beer or wine.”

It put a whole new spin on what Judd had told her about Jax. “I didn’t know that.”

“Makes you wonder why they take Jax in the first place,” Nate said. “Doesn’t go with their need for control.”

“Maybe they want to forget what they’ve become.” Tamsyn’s tone was sad. “Jax degrades memory, too.”

Nate grunted. “Whatever the reason, it’s still the weak ones who take it.”

She understood. No matter what the race—changeling, human, or Psy—it was the weak, broken, or damaged members who succumbed. Brenna’s lips tightened. Pain was no excuse for becoming an addict—she hadn’t taken the easy way out and oh, how she’d wanted to. But the worst were the dealers, the scum who preyed on the vulnerable.

“So,” Nate asked, “you know who did this?”

Her stomach curdled. “Can we talk about that afterward? I think Judd should be awake for it.”

“Fair enough. I have to let Lucas and Hawke know you’re here.”

“Can you hold off for a few hours?” It would give Judd time to recover at least a little and she needed him at