Page 223 of Primal Bonds

Love poured from him. She felt it, like something she could touch, grab hold of. The cougar calmed, and Marjani saw her chance.

She lunged at that love like a lifeline to yank herself through the shift—and then she was crouched on the sheepskin as a woman. Her breath shuddered in.

Goddess, that had been close, and not just the shift, either. She scraped her hands down her face. For a while there, she thought she’d finally gone feral.

She stood up, Fane rising with her. Her knees wobbled. She locked them, hoping Sindre wouldn’t notice.

On the plus side, shifting twice had gone a long way toward healing her. Only the knot on her skull and the slash on her thigh still hurt.

The king’s gaze traveled down to her bare toes and back up, taking in every detail. If she’d had any doubts about what he wanted, that look erased them.

She lifted her chin and stared back. The fingers of her free hand twitched, yearning for the security of one of her blades. It was her worst nightmare: to be trapped in her human form with no weapons.

Like the night she was kidnapped.

She swallowed over the crater in her throat.

“Get dressed.” Fane gestured at her clothes.

Clothes. Right. She glanced down at the tangled pile. The sweater was a lost cause, but the T-shirt was only ripped in a few places. She picked it up and stood, unmoving. Sipping breaths.

The bars of the cage pressed in on her. Her skin prickled.

Lord Roald muttered something impatient, but Fane gave her an encouraging smile. “Go ahead.”

Yes. You’re alive and healing. You still have a chance if you keep your head.

She didn’t bother with her bra, just put on the black briefs. The T-shirt was next. She palmed the quartz as she pulled the shirt on, and as she stepped into the cargo pants, slipped the precious chunk of rock into her front pocket. But without her blades, she might as well be naked.

Naked and defenseless.

A cold drop of sweat slid down her spine. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

The blond healer crossed the room to Marjani, her gray eyes compassionate. “She could use healing, too,” she told the king.

Fane faced Sindre. “Let her out, and allow Ilka to heal her. You promised her no cages.”

“So I did. But she didn’t agree to the bargain, did she?”

“Fane,” said his grandfather. “Stay out of this. It’s between the king and the fada.”

Fane ignored him to glare at the king. “Let her out,” he insisted. “Or I swear I’ll make sure her brother hears about this.”

The two men locked gazes.

Marjani caught her breath. Was Fane batshit crazy? If he wasn’t careful, Sindre was going to do that fucking frozen thing on him again.

Lord Roald cleared his throat. “The boy has a point. The fada before her were outcasts from their clans, or else had willingly entered into a bargain with Blaer. This woman is the Baltimore second. If she dies, her brother will stop at nothing to avenge her. You’ll be fighting off assassination attempts for years.”

The king considered that. “Very well. Blaer took her without my permission anyway.” He snapped his fingers again, and the door swung open.

Marjani leapt out, and then wavered woozily on her feet. Immediately, Fane was there, wrapping an arm around her, lending her his strength.

He was warm and solid, and even covered in blood, had that faint scent of the outdoors she liked so much. She wanted so badly to lean on him.

But she saw a muscle in Sindre’s jaw flex. Better not give him an excuse to hurt Fane again. She slipped out of his grip and put some space between them.

Ilka made a small, concerned sound. “You’ve used a lot of energy, between healing and shifting. If you’ll allow, I can give you a boost.”

---