The sword’s hilt was held by a man with black hair and very blue eyes. He had his arm around Andrea, his free hand resting over hers on Misty.

Andrea closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drawing in another breath. Sean kept his hand steady on Andrea’s.

Graham lay half on top of Misty, his short hair tickling her chin. His hard hands held her arms in place. The wolf cubs were beside Misty’s head, peering worriedly into her face.

It’s all right, Misty wanted to reassure them. But she wasn’t certain it would be.

Another wave of pain, white-hot. She thought she was being sliced in half. The screams came again. Graham tightened his grip on her, and one of the cubs whimpered and licked her cheek.

Andrea’s head went farther back, her eyes moving as though she watched something behind her lids. “Now, Sean,” she whispered.

Sean removed his hand from Andrea’s. He reached for something out of Misty’s line of sight, then clamped what felt like a poultice to Misty’s side, Andrea at the last minute moving her hand to rest it now on top of Sean’s.

Misty thought she was dying. The agony reached a peak, beyond which there was no feeling. After a very long time, she heard Graham again, his voice harsh. “It’s not working.”

“Patience,” Sean said, but Andrea drew a breath.

“He’s right,” she said.

I don’t want to hear that, Misty thought frantically. I want everyone surprised but happy I’m alive.

“Move.” Graham again, his weight rocking Misty. “Let me.”

“No, you don’t know—” Sean began, but Graham cut him off.

“Tell me what to do. What is this stuff?”

Andrea answered. “Fae . . . medicine.”

“Yeah, don’t reassure me. Why is it hurting her so much?”

“The Fae magic in her is fighting it,” Andrea answered. “It’s strong.”

“I’m stronger.” Graham’s voice was rough, breathy. “Misty, love.” He wrapped his hard fingers around hers. “Hold on to me. Tight as you can. And fight. Fight it for me, sweetheart.”

Misty had no strength to fight. Nothing. She didn’t want to die, but right now living was so, so tiring.

Graham’s large hand went to her side, and he pressed a cloth filled with something over the sword cut. Misty half sat up, trying to scream again, but her voice had gone. Her vision was blurred, but she saw Andrea and Sean collapsed onto a couch pulled to the bed, holding each other. Matt and Kyle sat up next to Misty, anxious, two pairs of wolf cub eyes fixed on her.

Graham was merciless. His eyes were the light gray of his wolf’s, determined, angry. He pressed her side, holding Misty down while she tried to wrench herself away from the pain.

“Hang on, baby,” Graham said. “I know it hurts. You can kick my ass later. But hang on.”

Misty clamped down on his hand, clinging to it as though it was a lifeline. Graham forced whatever it was into her wound, the pain searing, something hot rushing to her heart. She couldn’t hold it in—her heart would burst, and Misty would die.

Through the pain, a small dart of warmth touched her chest. The tiniest piece, and yet it was something outside the pain, something to focus on.

She heard Graham draw a sharp breath, saw his gaze go to the middle of her chest, as though he knew what she felt. He looked down at his own chest, and his look turned startled.

Misty had no idea why. Was he feeling what she felt? Was that possible? But strange things had been happening all day. Night. Whatever time it was.

The piece of warmth suddenly flooded her chest, spreading, widening, burning through her to engulf the pain from the wound. Her body seared hot, hotter . . . hotter than she could stand.

And then everything stopped. Misty dragged in a long breath that seemed to come from the ends of the atmosphere, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing for the last . . . however long it had been.

As soon as Misty exhaled and blinked, the cubs went into paroxysms of joy, dancing in circles, yipping, tails moving rapidly.

Misty found herself drenched but realized it was with sweat. The sheet was soaked with it, and so was the big T-shirt she was wearing. Not hers.

The runes on Sean’s sword, still in his hand, flashed out once, then went dark. Andrea was up, her hand on Misty’s forehead, her face relaxing. “It’s gone,” Andrea said. “I don’t see the spell anymore.”

Graham unfolded himself like a huge bear coming to life, his eyes silver white and wild. He wrapped his arms around Misty, picking her up away from Andrea, gathered her against him, and buried his face in her neck.

Misty held his shaking body, both of them rocking a little. “It’s all right,” Misty said softly, stroking him. “I’m here.”

Graham lifted his head. The relief in his eyes went a long way down, along with pain and stark terror. He drew a breath.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he roared in his loudest voice. “Going for the sword like that?”

Misty closed her eyes, sinking into exhaustion. “Love you too, Graham,” she murmured, and hugged him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The next morning, Sean made everyone pancakes, which he’d assured Graham were famous. Graham never thought he’d see the day he’d let a Feline into his kitchen to cook for him, but times were strange.

But nothing mattered anymore. Misty was alive. That was all he needed. Graham’s heart lightened when she came into the kitchen, looking tired but rested. Bandages bulked up her side under her tank top, but other than that, she moved with a sure step.