I still blame Eydis, or Mother – or the two of them working together. This all started right here.
“Harmony,” I repeat – stupidly because there’s a chance she doesn’t know what the word means.
As the power moves through her, she responds by balling into frustration. Her eyes pinch tightly shut.
I close my own and concentrate – hard. The barest thread of my power is moving of its own accord. Not really a thread, a wisp. Slim. Shadowy. Undefined. Almost non-existent.
No wonder I never notice her using it.
The power is so little, but the way she’s accessing it is so harsh, demanding. Lashing then releasing.
“Think about your arm,” I whisper in my hypnotic tones, watching as my power is tugged towards the break.
How is she Alluring anyone with such a sliver? I funnel more into her, following the wisp that she’s controlling.
This is taking too long.
Seconds of exposure would have been fine. The time required to say a sentence. A kiss, where our energies meet for less than a minute. This is minute after minute. Killian better be keeping track because I can’t nudge my power to heal her arm, talk her through healing it, and watch the flow of her energy escaping her. And it is escaping her.
It is slipping inside of me.
And I am enjoying it.
She snatches at more power, growling under her breath, pulling like she’s been waiting this whole time on the end of a leash. Ready to attack.
I struggle to draw the pain in her arm away, to give her a fighting chance at keeping her concentration, as new pain spikes through her head. Sharp bursts of power sear into her mind – into mine through this deeper connection.
Is this what she’s doing to herself when she accesses me? Hurting herself this badly?
Just one more second. That’s all I’m giving her. Or me. Us.
One more second.
The desire and the pleasure and the building tension tease at my own common sense, and I let more seconds tick by.
Bone creaks, the sound of one small shard pulling into place – at least I hope that’s what I‘m hearing.
She gasps.
“Stop?” I whisper.
“No,” Killian snaps.
She grits her teeth, but my magic isn’t enough, even with the extra I’m pooling into her – something is blocking me; this thin sliver is still all that is being put to use. And that blockage might be the only thing keeping me from jumping on her – ripping her bloody clothes off and not ceasing, not finishing with her, until… ever.
Until she’s dead.
Harmony.
I try to clear my throat, which sounds a lot like a strangled groan. “Imagine the power is silk, and you’re wrapping it delicately around the bone.”
The clock is ticking fast, and the healing is happening so very slowly.
Killian kneels beside the couch and grabs her arm. She whimpers, squirms, falters, and begins to struggle away. Begins to resist me.
I clamp my power down on her – hard.
Her mind reels. Another bone snaps loudly into place, but her body buckles.
“Want it,” Killian growls.
Aeons, Killian, is that what you’re doing? Motivation through increased pain – smart, brother, smart – in the stupidest way.
I feel her move to grip Killian’s hand and try to pry him away. The guy grunts but doesn’t relax.
Anything she tries to do with Allure now is only going to hurt more, damage more – we need to end this.
Now.
Or soon, I correct myself as a tantalizing sweet honey and saffron flavor tickles the back of my throat. Pressure slams into my chest as she hungrily sucks at my power.
And Killian’s.
Locking him in place.
Locking me in place.
Her essence caresses across my skin. Mortal and vulnerable and fading.
So fragile.
Infused with darkness, shadows, and instinct. Jasmine and lavender scents slip past my nose.
I’m smelling…
And feeling. Feeling inside of her as each muscle stubbornly knits in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Sinew and the delicate dance between tendon and ligament. The pieces of bone wanting to be whole again. And the crimson-gold color that floods through her veins. Flows from her into us.
So intoxicating.
She cries out. The first genuine noise she’s made.
The sound settles against my chest – pushing me back – and I want to recoil from it. But not Killian, he latches on harder, and his reaction makes both of us press in on her. If he needs her, then so do I.
My eyes are still shut, but I can see it all through our shared powers.
My hands cup her cheeks and pull her towards me, my lips wanting hers, as Killian grips her waist, lifts her, and wraps his arms around her middle. He nestles her back to his bare chest as the towel falls to the floor. I feel him tilting her head back, his fingers running through her hair. A pleasure-filled sigh slips from her flushed lips, across my skin, shivering through every fiber in my body. I can feel her wanting me. Wanting us.
And it makes my fingers search out skin – then Thane slams into us, and I realize too late that the door has burst open.
Ten minutes has passed.
I hit the floor mercilessly and snap my eyes open. For the barest second I see threads. Too many colors and scents to catalogue – but the crimson-gold from Thane to Kitten is brightest, glowing, pulsing, alive.
Then the world settles back to how it should be, and all I sense is his desire to keep his mate safe.
Kitten is unconscious on the couch – barely breathing.
“It worked,” Killian barks at the wolf, shaking his head sharply from side to side – as if clearing something from his vision too.
But the wolf is too quick, pinning Killian down and latching on to his arm. Canines bite through Killian’s flesh, and the guy grunts in pain. It’s the grunt more than anything that makes me run to his aid.
I throw myself into Thane’s side, dislodging the wolf and pushing the three of us out the door.
