Page 61 of Rejecting his Mate

“Don’t what? Help him?” I appreciate his concern, but protecting me shouldn’t come at the cost of Jackson’s life.

“Give more of yourself than you have.”

“He’s bleeding to death because of me.”

Cade shakes his head. Stubborn asshole. “No, he’s there because of the choices your former pack made and because I sent him out there to scout. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Stop trying to protect me from everything!” I shove his chest, but he doesn’t move. “I’m not a kid, Cade. I don’t need you to save me.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Isn’t it? Actions have consequences. My actions put Jackson in that bed, bleeding and dying. I may have the power to fix that, and I’m going to try.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he admits.

“Have a little faith in me,” I say, giving him a lopsided smile.

Reluctantly, he lets go of my wrist, and I round the end of the bed to sink next to Jackson.

His skin is gray, and there is sweat beaded on his lip. Sawyer and Wyatt have covered his nakedness with the blanket from the truck, but his torso is covered in bandages, a few of which are already stained red.

Jackson’s glassy eyes find mine, and I see the fear in them. He knows he’s dying. I take his hand in mine. “I’m going to save you,” I promise, even though I have no idea how to do it.

“I don’t… blame you for this,” he assures me, his words thick and slurred.

It doesn’t matter if he blames me or not; I blame myself.

Ignoring his attempt at forgiveness, I close my eyes and focus on finding the power inside me. I try to locate the same thing I used to fix Cade, but there’s nothing there.

The pounding in my head is, though.

I try to ignore it and dig deeper. I’m not sure if it will help, but I open my hands, letting them hover just a little above his body.

Come on, Halle.

I urge myself to do whatever will bring that power out.

I find the wall inside my mind. It’s a big ugly block, and I know I need whatever is behind it.I probe at its edges, trying to find a weakness, but the pain in my head is getting worse. I try to hold back my whimper, but it slips out.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Cade grabs my hands, trying to pull them away.

As soon as he touches me, it feels as if I’m hit with a bolt of electricity. My head snaps back, and my eyes fly open. The ceiling overhead is staring down at me, but I’m not focused on that. Part of the block crumbles, and power rushes from the hole left behind.

My body thrums and sings as it is pushed out of my hands and into Jackson’s body.

I don’t see lights or glowing, but I know the wounds are knitting together. Heat burns through my palms, and the magic swirling through me is almost too much to bear. My head is pounding, the agony almost too much, but I focus on fixing Jackson, hyperaware of every one of his wounds—external and internal.

When they are all mostly healed, exhaustion creeps over me. I slump to the side, and Cade holds my shoulders in place, stopping me from sliding off the edge of the bed. I lose control of the power, feeling it slipping through my fingers before it winks out, but I can sense it inside me, a small nugget of magic glowing and thrumming in my mind.

There is a strange comfort in its presence as if a lost piece of me has been put back in place.

Cade holds me tight as Sawyer peels back one of the bandages on Jackson’s torso. I watch through heavy eyes, noting the skin is smooth. There is no sign of a bite or scratch. There’s no injury at all.

Sawyer’s gaze raises to his brother’s.

“She’s a fucking magician.”

“He’ll be okay now,” I push the words through my lips, which seem glued together. I’m so tired I want to sleep for a week.

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