Bruce had seen it before—the shock a person felt after a disaster. It left people muttering about the most ridiculous stuff to cover how terrified they were. Yes, Bing’s face was important, but mostly the big one just wanted his friend to live. Fortunately, the woman was obviously a seasoned first responder. She didn’t speak, and Bruce doubted she heard much of anything as she clutched something in her hand and muttered. Her eyes were shut and one hand rested gently on Bing’s chest.
Meanwhile, Laddin jolted forward. “What happened?” There was no response. Big Guy was staring at Bing, but Laddin moved quickly to the counter, where he grabbed a washcloth from a bowl of water. Then he crossed back to dab at the big man’s goo-covered lip, which, now that Bruce looked closer, was definitely swollen.
It wasn’t exactly the first choice in health-care assessment. Bruce would be taking vitals and getting the man to talk about what hurt and what didn’t. But Laddin wasn’t a paramedic. But he wasn’t stupid either as he spoke in a sharp tone.
“Yordan! Where do you hurt?”
The man jolted and glared at Laddin. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “It’s Bing—” His voice broke on the word.
“You’re not fine,” Laddin said. “What happened?”
“Bing tried to hypnotize a lich.”
“A zombie sorcerer? Seriously?”
“We thought that since the undead asshole used to be human, Bing’d be able to woo-woo the thing into submission.” He swallowed, and his gaze grew haunted. “I should have known that he couldn’t do it with the undead. I should have kept him back.”
“He wouldn’t have listened,” Laddin said as he continued to wash the black stuff off Yordan’s face. Then he jerked his head toward the woman. “Is she the cleric?”
Yordan nodded. “She was here for Wulfric and….” He swallowed. “Well, we came to find her.”
Bruce turned to study the woman more closely. In that form-fitting leather, she looked like a biker babe fantasy. Though he could smell smoke, blood, and any number of other disaster stinks on her, she seemed calm as she held something in her hand and exhaled in steady breaths.
That totally pissed him off. She should be putting compresses on Bing’s face. She should be checking his vitals. She should be doing any one of a zillion other things instead of just bowing her head and… what? Praying? Of all the ridiculous, useless, stupid—
His thoughts trailed away as Bing’s face began to knit. The burns smoothed, and though the blood didn’t disappear, the skin beneath it grew upward from raw muscle to pale gray, then flushed pink skin. It made Bruce gasp, but no more than everyone else. Bing took a deep breath, the kind one takes when the painkillers finally kick in. Except he hadn’t been given any drugs. And his face was healed.
Once Bing took that breath, Yordan’s head snapped up. His expression flooded with gratitude deep enough to spark tears, which he wiped away with unsteady hands. Laddin exhaled too as he patted Yordan’s massive shoulder.
“See. All better.”
“Yeah,” Yordan breathed. “Yeah.”
Meanwhile, the woman looked up, her expression serene. “He’ll be fine, but he needs to rest. Now what about you?” she asked as she looked at Yordan.
“I’m good. Really. Save your prayers for someone who needs them.”
She snorted as she put her necklace back on. That was what she’d been holding in her hand—a silver crucifix that looked dainty nestled against all that dark leather. “I’m fresh out anyway. I was going to see if you needed a hospital.” Then she looked at Laddin. “Hi, I’m Cara, mystical healer. Are you the paramedic?”
Laddin shook his head. “Not me. Him,” he said, pointing to Bruce.
Everyone looked at him, and he straightened up to his full height. Except he was a wolf, which meant he stood there looking stupid. And that was exactly the look she gave him.
“Well?” she prompted. “You planning to lick the wounds better?”
He flushed. Or he would have, if he’d been human. Only he wasn’t.
He tried. He really tried to switch back to being a man. He visualized himself standing up to his impressive height. He thought of all the times he’d been needed out in the field. The car accident victims he’d treated, the house fires he’d help put out. Hell, he’d delivered three babies over his career and held them against his own chest to keep them warm. All of those memories flashed through his mind. He was damned good in a crisis, and yet all he could do right now was stand there with his tongue hanging out.
Fucking hell!
Meanwhile, Laddin shuffled his feet. “He’s new. He hasn’t gotten the hang of switching back and forth yet.”
Cara straightened up, and Bruce heard the crackle of her knees. He knew that sound. Knew the soft grunt when a body kept functioning long after it needed to rest. He could help her. As a paramedic, he could take some of the load off, if only he was a man. And yet try as he might, he remained exactly where he was: on four paws.
“Typical man,” she groused. “When you need his help, he’s a dumb animal.”
Bruce growled in response—dark and ugly, and mostly directed at himself. What the fuck? He was a man.
“Don’t growl at me,” she snapped. “Either get it together or get out of my way.”
How many times had he said the exact same thing to a new firefighter? Either help or get out of the way. He was trying!
“Don’t bother” came a voice from behind him.
Josh. Bruce whipped around to see his little brother dropping a backpack onto the floor so he could lace up his boots. He was
