Page 20 of Pack Witch
“Does it hurt when I touch you?” Had it hurt him to make love to me?
His eyes met mine and held them. “Yes and no. But if you’re asking if you can touch me, yes, Zinnia.”
I pursed my lips, wondering how I was going to make it through the next few minutes, or possibly days, trying to strengthen and heal him. “I’ll put this on the silver scars first, before I address the tattoos. It’ll numb them a bit, and soften the tissue,” I explained. “I have a feeling…” I didn’t say what I thought; if it was true, this was going to be a long, bloody day.
He sipped the tea as I worked, with the scent of mugwort and rosemary from the salve, as well as the mint and borage in the tea, perfuming the air. He was a perfect patient, holding still as I rubbed each scar, feeling for what I feared I would find. I closed my eyes, connecting with the small well of collected power inside me, allowing it to drift over his skin, trailing like mist over the arm where my finger probed.
“Shit, that hurts,” Julian gritted out.
I fought to keep my face serene. What I was about to do would hurt even more. I unwrapped the sharp paring knife I kept in my medical kit, laid the sterile dressing to one side, then stacked some clean muslin cloths on the table. I put my own tea down, knowing I needed an empty stomach to do what came next.
“I’m afraid this will hurt more. If I’m right, it may not be your magic that’s hurting you. It may be?—”
“Silver,” he breathed. “You think there’s silver inside me.” I nodded, and he extended his arm. “Get it out, please.”
The next hour was brutal and embarrassing, but not because of Julian’s reactions. He showed his years of discipline as a warrior and held still for every cut I had to make, every small grain of silver I removed. No, I was the one who wasn’t able to keep calm, tears running down my face, my nose dripping until I had to tie a cloth over my face like a mask to keep working. I had begun my task with lower reserves than I’d had in a decade, both physically and magically, and it was all I could do to keep on and not show my exhaustion. I was certain Julian thought my shaking hands and pallor were because of the grisly procedure and not my true weakness.
When I finished, Julian was covered with blood, and a tiny mound of silver—no more than a pea-sized pile—lay on a bloody rag beside our seats.
“Is that all?” His voice was strained as I dug past one of the silver scars toward the crook of his elbow. I pulled out one final, infinitesimally small piece of silver, the scent of the metal fouling the air around us. I let out a breath, then sent my magic out again, the tendril searching… and finding nothing.
“That’s all,” I whispered.
“Thank you,” he said and ran for the door. The sound of retching was the last thing I heard before I passed out again.
Chapter 11
Julian
“Sergeant, you okay?” Bo hovered over me as I vomited only a few yards from my mate’s front door. “Look at all that blood on him, Leroy! Those’re knife marks… What’s the witch been doing to you, Alpha?”
Bo’s quick rage had me wiping my mouth and barking an Alpha command. “Quiet.” They both shut up, which helped somewhat. I rubbed my hand over the cuts she’d made, relieved they were already healing up. “She was removing silver.”
“S-silver?” Leroy handed me a cloth and a cup of water. I nodded my thanks and rinsed my mouth, spitting on the ground before I explained. “You mean to tell me you’ve been carrying silver inside you for years now? Alpha, you coulda…” He went pale under his tan and swallowed hard.
“I probably should have died by now,” I completed for him, as Bo helped me to sit on the broad, flat-topped boulder. The wind had picked up, and the shush of pine needles carried over the distant burble of the river… but not the more present growl from Bo’s stomach. “You two need to eat.” I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to stand. “Where’re the rations?”
Bo glared at his friend. Leroy scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Um, well, it’s like this… You know how I eat when I’m nervous? And last night was one of those times when everything seemed to be goin’ tits up?—”
Bo elbowed him in the gut. “Goin’ wrong, you mean. And one of those wrong things was that Leroy ate all his rations and mine, too.”
“I was asleep,” Leroy protested weakly. “Sleep eating. I can’t help it.”
“I can duct tape your hands shut every night,” Bo grumbled. “You ate every last crumb. I’m starved.”
“Well, you two know how to hunt,” I began, then stopped. “Shit. No, you can’t hunt.”
“Ah, why not?” Leroy asked. He’d already shucked off his shorts, ready to shift.
“Because Miss Zinnia’s friends are out there,” Bo explained for me. He frowned at Leroy. “And she could come out here any second. Put your clothes back on. She’s a lady.”
Leroy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “But then… doesn’t she have some non-friends out there? Like, a really mean old elk or… a total asshole turkey?”
Bo snapped his fingers. “Geese. There’s never been a goose born that wasn’t a rat bastard, if ya ask me.”
I shook my head, thinking. “Plants, boys. She’s a vegetarian, and as long as we live here, on her land and around her friends, we are, too.” Ignoring their stares of horror and their spluttered protestations, I turned back to the cabin. I hadn’t heard any movement from inside, and my wolf was worried and pacing.
“Bo, I’m… I’m scared,” Leroy hissed, pulling his clothes back on. “A shifter eating plants. It ain’tnatural.Maybe we oughta head back to the Alpha’s Den.”
