Page 220 of Primal Bonds

“Not…in control.”

His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“Cougar…wants to take over.”

“So? You won’t let it.”

She gave a mirthless chuckle. “Not…that simple.”

“Screw that.” Blue eyes blazed into hers. “You can. I know you can.”

For some damn reason, she believed him. She wriggled out of the tattered sweater first. Someone had removed her boots. She eased her briefs and pants down her legs at the same time, taking care with the deep slash on her right thigh, and then pulled off her socks.

Next came her T-shirt. Just pulling it over her head made her go blind with pain. A moan escaped her lips. She curled into a panting, agonized ball, and then gritted her teeth and dragged off her bra, too.

“That’s my girl,” Fane said.

She growled, low and mean, but he just winked back.

Sitting cross-legged on the sheepskin, she dug her quartz out of the pocket. Holding it to her heart, she opened herself to the shift.

Another wave of nausea rolled through her. She clenched her jaw and kept trying. Her quartz warmed against her chest, but the energy level was dangerously low. That was bad—she’d counted on drawing on the tiny crystals to help her through the shift. She estimated she had a fifty-fifty chance of succeeding.

She swallowed dryly. Should she risk it?

But for once, her cat’s independence served her. It surged up, determined to be out. For a few frightening seconds she wavered between human and cat—and then she was crouched on the sheepskin as her cougar.

“Excellent,” said Fane.

She twitched her tail, pleased with both herself and him.

Already she felt better. The shift had healed the minor cuts and bruises, including her swollen mouth. Even her head ached less.

Her sharp hearing detected a faint heartbeat to her right. Corban—alive, but close to death.

She gave her injured thigh a few soothing licks and then settled onto the rug, positioning her center over her quartz. The healing energy hummed through her, sinking into her very bones. If she could just get out of this fucking cage, she could go looking for Luc. But the iron continued to sap her energy.

Fane lay down on his rug with a sigh. She eyed him anxiously. He was hurt bad—worse than her. His heartbeat was slow and uneven, and blood seeped from cuts and gashes all over his body, its sharp iron-and-silver scent filling her nostrils.

The cat yowled and flexed its claws, frantic to go to him. It couldn’t understand why it couldn’t batter itself against the cage door until it broke.

Bad. Too much blood. The man needs help.

Marjani mentally stroked its head. Iron, she told it. Bad magic.

“Love you,” Fane rasped.

The cat purred, liking the sound of that. Beneath Marjani’s abdomen, the quartz hummed joyfully against her heart.

Love? She didn’t know about that, but Fane was hers in some way she didn’t want to examine too deeply.

Ours, the cat agreed.

But it was bad that the man was in an iron cage. He needed to get out, to heal.

And then the thing Marjani most feared happened. The cougar wrenched control from her.

Chapter 28

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