Page 36 of Bonded Chaos

“He should be healing by now,” I muttered under my breath.

“Here,” Riordan panted, startling me for the second time that day.

“Thank you.”

I dipped the cloth into the clean water and set about clearing the blood away so that I could study the injury. An acrid odor hit my nostrils, and I leaned in closer to sniff the wound.

I turned to Ryker and Riordan. “I can smell iron,” I said, ignoring their twin expressions of disgust.

Riordan’s face paled, while Ryker’s expression darkened as he struggled to contain his mounting fury.

“Since he’s not healing as he should, I suspect a piece of shrapnel is still lodged in the wound. He’s unconscious now, but the moment I start poking around in his side, he’s going to wake up with one hell of an attitude. I need you both to hold him down while I work.”

The brothers rose in unison, with Ryker securing the man’s shoulders while Riordan held his legs.

“Do you have any brandy?”

I directed my question to Ryker, and he nodded toward a small cabinet I hadn’t noticed before. I rushed over, unlatched the lock, and rifled through it until I found what I needed.

Aged fifty years. What a waste.

Returning to the bed, I crouched beside the man, positioning myself so I had the best view of his side. My teeth wrapped around the cork, and I pulled it free before pouring a healthydose of liquor over the wound. Unable to resist, I lifted the bottle to my lips and drank deeply.

When I lowered the brandy, both brothers were staring at me in disbelief. Their mouths hung open, and their eyes were wide with surprise.

I wondered if they realized just how similar they were. It didn’t seem like the opportune time to ask them, however.

“What?” I shrugged. “It’s aged fifty years.”

Riordan snorted, and a hint of amusement flashed across Ryker’s usually stony face.

“Ready?”

Both men nodded.

I took a deep breath to steady my pounding heart and pulled my magic around me. The man’s chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths, each one more strained than the last.

He didn’t have long.

When my fingers dipped inside the open wound, blood gushed from the site, and the man woke with a feral roar.

I could hear the brothers trying to soothe their friend, but it did nothing to quell his thrashing limbs. He bucked his hips off the bed as he tried to dislodge the arms holding him down. Riordan cursed when one of the man’s feet broke free and struck his lip.

“Come on, come on,” I murmured as I dug my fingers in deeper.

I let my magic guide me as I searched for the stray piece of iron that would be the death of this man if I couldn’t remove it.

My fingertips grazed something sharp, and the man roared in agony.

“How much longer?” Ryker gritted out as he continued to hold his friend down.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.”

I glared at the Fae prince, and he glared right back. If the wounded man still struggling in their grasp didn’t require my attention, I’d have challenged him to do better.

Removing the iron was a delicate task as my fingers kept slipping off the metal from all the blood coating it. I swore under my breath when I failed to get a proper grip on the deadly tip for the third time.

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