Page 48 of Toward Immortal Ruin

And then hell landed in the living room.

Four men suddenly teleported into the open space. All of them were worse for wear, but none of that mattered when Eden saw the person covered in blood on the floor.

“Nero!”

Not caring about anything else, Eden elbowed her way through them to kneel beside the Raeth who’d stolen her heart. His torso, now bare to the waist, was a mess of blood and gore. One shoulder was ravaged, and the flesh below it looked like it’d been scored by more than one set of claws. Orfangs. The other arm was arguably worse.

One bone was clearly broken, and the muscle was shredded to within an inch of the limb being severed.

“Luna, he’s had significant blood loss,” a deep voice explained. “I had to take Kane back to his House first—he was bleeding out from an open femoral artery and nearly exsanguinated.”

“Move.”

Luna’s command had the men scattering at her approach, then teleporting out with a clipped apology. Within seconds, her hands were hovering above the garish wounds on Nero’s shoulder, the ones that continued to pulse crimson on the carpeting from gaping holes.

The scene before her grew blurry, and Eden absently wiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks.

A force dragged over her skin, pressing against her. Pressure built, almost crushing her backwards, while Luna was assessing Nero’s catastrophic wounds.

“Did you contain the incident?”

“We killed the twenty-five that were released, but it was a near thing.” An apologetic grimace accompanied the redhead’s words, while Zia wrapped her arms around his midsection. “Our sovereign took on two of them at once to defend me. That’s why he looks like he’s been through a woodchipper.”

Zia glowered at Jeremiah. “Neither of you should’ve been in the line of fire, but I’m not about to reprimand Nero for saving my mate.”

Luna was all business. “When did he go under, Jeremiah?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

Nero’s immobile features made her miss his easy casual grin, and the dimple that begged for a kiss every time she saw it.

Glancing up, Eden found that Luna’s hands were flush with Nero’s skin now instead of hovering above. As she watched, Nero’s flesh knit back together as if by magic.

Because it is magic, Eden had to remind herself. Even though she’d accepted the truth of what Nero and the other Raeths had revealed, seeing it still required mental adjustments.

The long gashes and broken bones began to heal at the same time, with Luna’s eyes shifted back and forth between them, a study in concentration.

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” Almost a whisper, Luna’s voice was tight. “He’s going to need to take it easy for a while and eat something of substance.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Eden said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Zia gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate that. Besides, he could use a little rest and relaxation in general. Fate knows he’s doing too much lately.”

It seemed to Eden that the man had consistently overburdened himself. Today was just one example. If he’d lived his life jumping from one responsibility to another, it was no wonder he had insomnia and described the mental equivalent of suffocation.

Across from her, Luna’s focus was entirely on Nero’s severely damaged right arm. It was a cold realization for Eden that even magical doctors had limits. The injuries made it clear that he’d used the arm to block an attack, and that the wolf who had clamped down on it had had every intention of taking it as a trophy.

Luna’s hand had cupped the bloodied limb, and transferred pulse after pulse into it, clearly struggling to maintain a level of progress that would allow Nero’s body to take over. As if sensing Eden’s distress, Nero’s warm brown eyes flashed open. They shifted to emerald an instant later, and Eden knew the exact moment the pain awoke in him. He sucked in a breath and winced, moving his head as if in a panic until he found her.

“Are you okay?”

A halfway hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. “That’s a strange question coming from a man who just got used as a chew toy for the second time this week.”

“It looks worse than it is.” The man had all the audacity.

“No, sovereign, it’s worse than it looks,” was Luna’s dry remark. “Your shoulder barely had any healthy flesh remaining, and your ulna shattered into a million shards. If your rabid friend had gotten the other bone, I would have said we just sheer it off and start over.”

“Good thing I still have one working bone, then.” He winked at Eden, far too happy with himself.

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