Page 89 of The Enemy to the Living
Oh, there’s not nearly enough there. I just have to hope that Quinn will heal. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, then bring it to my lips, where I press them against his knuckles. “Come back to me, darling,” I murmur. “We can fix it. I promised you we’d manage it.”
The wolf magic floats slowly over to Quinn’s chest. Ophelia doesn’t move the duvet, her eyes unfocused yet unerringly fixed on that small silver cloud. It lowers and lowers, and I let out a gasping breath as it sinks beneath the duvet and, I know, into Quinn’s chest again.
My blessing flares bright, magic surging through my veins. I bite back a groan—it doesn’t hurt, but the feeling is overwhelming. Some of it reaches for Quinn, just like it did when I healed him, and when it settles back into me, I feel a bone-deep exhaustion.
Ophelia gasps and sways, blinking quickly.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Me? Yeah, fine. Sorry. Took it out of me.” She shifts the now-empty vial from hand to hand, then reaches out, pressing her fingers briefly to Quinn’s other hand. “He’s healing. Resting.”
“And his wolf?”
“Healing.” She smiles. “Your magic is helping.”
I nod. I kiss Quinn’s knuckles one final time, then set his hand down and get to my feet. Ophelia stands too, and I follow her out of the room, though I don’t close the door behind me.
“How is he?” Kieran asks.
Deacon has a hand on his shoulder, grip firm but not tight. Drew practically shakes with anticipation on the sofa, and Sam looks just as concerned.
“He should heal,” Ophelia says. “Maurice said he’ll come by after sundown. He knows fae magic better than me, but…”
“Why isn’t he awake?” Drew asks, leaning to look past us all. “Why isn’t he—”
“He’s okay, sweetheart,” Sam murmurs.
Ophelia nods. “He needs to heal.” She pulls a face and looks at me. “I think there’s been a problem with his wolf for a while.”
Drew looks taken aback; so does Sam. Sparrow doesn’t. They let out a heavy sigh.
Kieran doesn’t, either. I bite back a snarl.
“Did you know?” I ask.
Deacon says nothing. He watches on, but he doesn’t take his hand from Kieran’s shoulder, either.
“No,” Kieran says. I’m not sure if he’s lying. “But I thought theremightbe something… off. He’s not shifted since he came here. I noticed that.”
“You didn’t do anything about it.”
“Every time I tried to ask him, he shut down,” Kieran says. “I thought we were making progress… Until this.”
“I’m sorry,” Sparrow croaks. “I should have never sent him there.”
Sam scowls and opens his mouth, but Deacon finally intervenes.
“What’s done is done. The important thing now is that Quinn is alive and safe. Those fae are dead.”
Paxton and I exchange a look. One of them is. Fuck. “We have to go.”
To my surprise, Drew’s the first to his feet. “You’re not going!”
“Drew,” Kieran snaps, but I just stare at the mild-mannered wolf.
“No. No! You—You’re hismate. What if he wakes up and you’re not here? What if he—”
“You’ll be here,” I say, and Drew snaps his mouth shut. Tears swim in his eyes.
