She’d been asleep on him when he woke, probably because she’d been healing him while he slept.
“How long have I been unconscious?”
She’d closed her eyes, was frowning slightly. “Two days. We were going to hook you up to an IV drip later tonight.”
Two days of recovery time and he was healed beyond what even made sense. Her power was incredible. She was incredible. His heart surged with pride, with love, with possession.
Her fingers warmed against his skin, a cascading jolt of power entering his wound, making him tingle in a strange way. He understood what she meant—he could feel her inside, poking at the places that hurt, testing the edges of his tolerance, easing the pain a moment after the sting. It made him dizzy with amazement. His heart swelled again. He wanted to say so much, his emotions overflowing.
“When I’m well I’m going to mark you properly,” he said, his voice gruff, coming out harsh. He cringed—he was such an ass.
She cracked her eyes open, smiled shyly. “You bet your ass you will.”
Chapter Fifteen
She’d done what she could for Dyami, visited every day to give him jolt after jolt of her power and yet he lay there still and silent, hooked up to a multitude of machines that beeped and whirred and basically kept him alive. The wound had healed where her arrow had struck but the poison of her Huntress magic was embedded in him so profusely that she doubted months of treatment would rid him of it completely. He should be dead. She wondered if keeping him alive was even humane.
She closed the door to his room, shutting out the whoosh-whoosh of the breathing machine and dampening the guilt she felt when she looked at him. She shouldn’t have taken that shot, but years of conditioning had kicked in when her brain was too stunned to process what was going on. Now Dyami suffered unimaginably for it.
Mayhem and the pack had granted her forgiveness but she wouldn’t feel atoned until she heard it from Dyami’s lips.
Guilt and sorrow rested permanently on her shoulders. Until, that was, she opened the door next to Dyami’s room where Jaylon recovered. Love could vanquish anything. It really could, at least for a while. Jaylon’s love for her, although he never said it, was like the brightest light—so warm, so tender, tethered to her by the unbreakable bond that came with his bite.
He was sitting up in bed, propped on pillows, smiling slyly. “What have you been up to?” she asked as she quietly shut the door behind her.
“Me? Nothing?”
She frowned, put her hands on her hips. “You’re lying.”
Jaylon’s smile grew. He patted the bed. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“How are you feeling?” She moved to the bed, ignoring his request for her to come up as she felt around what was left of his chest wound, now only a faint pink scar. “Any pain tonight?”
She’d been spending a lot of time with his wolf during the day, the magic of his transitions moving him through the cycles from beast to man whether he was conscious or not. In some ways, the wolf was easier to understand. Without language, it just felt and its feelings overwhelmed her at times. Desire, belonging, possession, tenderness, even love.
The man just spoke in circles, never wanting to tell her how he felt, what he thought. It was frustrating, to say the least.
Jaylon patted the bed again. “I’m not answering you until you get up here.”
She snapped her gaze to his, meeting a look of cunning determination, one eyebrow cocked, a smile still on his lips. She sighed in resignation. “Fine.” Then eased herself onto the edge of the mattress, not wanting to jostle him too much.
Once her body was within reach, he yanked her onto his lap with ease. She yelped, and his smile grew wider.
“There you are.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, running his tongue along the column of her sensitive flesh, making her shiver. “I missed you.”
She pulled back, looked at him. He never said anything like that to her. “You feeling okay?” She raised her hand to his forehead. No fever.
He chuckled, pulled her hand away, leaned forward again and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I know I’m not the best with this relationship stuff.” He reached under his pillow and pulled out a ring box. “I had Mayhem pick this up for me.” With a wink, he opened it.
Aubrey stared, her mouth dropping open slightly. Nestled in the plush box was a ring, the cut making its surface sparkle. It was the head of a wolf, delicately wrought, tiny yellow gems decorating the eyes. It was beautiful.
He pulled it out, turned it on its side to show the engraved band, all Celtic swirls of black designs. He tilted it to show her the inscription on the inside.
My heart is yours.