Healed

by Samantha Stone

  Nothing is that easy. Like so much else, it would be a healing process for both Cael and Sean. Her heart went out to both of them, and it wasn’t the first time she wished she could heal emotional injuries as well as physical ones.

  The footsteps of more than one person sounded in the other room, and she quickly re-braided her hair before she stepped out to meet then. Sebastian sat on the corner of her bed, Briony in his lap. His hands held her flat belly protectively, and Aiyanna considered if the witch was pregnant.

  It would explain Sebastian’s level of protectiveness earlier. That was the sort of thing she expected from Cael, but not level-headed, analytical Sebastian.

  Heath and Sophia stood next to the door, while Cael held his post outside the bathroom, as if he expected her to collapse into his arms. She would be supremely happy if she never did that again. And was never shot again, for that matter.

  It was a real pain in the ass.

  “What’s with the party?” she asked.

  “Pureblood attacked again,” Heath answered. For once, he wasn’t wearing a sarcastic T-shirt, but a black one with black pants that barely concealed what she was sure were a dozen weapons strapped to his legs and torso.

  “They injured thirty people in a grocery store in Metairie, killing ten of them. One of the more severely injured is Oren, one of Christian’s vampires. They gave him a message.”

  While Heath spoke, Sophia turned a ball of fire into tiny daggers that she made fly around the room, straight into a fiery, fanged figure.

  If the situation weren’t so dire, Aiyanna would have laughed at Sophia’s antics.

  “Why are you telling her this?” Cael all but snarled. “She’s still hurt, for God’s sake. There’s nothing she can do.”

  “Actually, there is,” Briony said with a small, rueful smile. Cael’s eyes flashed, but his expression was mild compared to Sebastian’s scowl. Sebastian’s stare promised retribution for any slight against Briony. In Aiyanna’s opinion, it was wise for Cael to keep his mouth shut.

  “I have a potion I can make that’s somewhat similar to what I put together for Sophia that one time. Tomorrow, you should be well enough to heal others.” Aiyanna remembered trying to heal Sophia when she’d been severely burned, but there was just too much for her to cover. She’d exhausted herself then, and Briony was the one who’d saved Sophia from a life of pain and terribly scarred skin.

  Briony wasn’t a healer, but witches had some fantastic healing tricks up their sleeves. Aiyanna didn’t doubt she’d be better by tomorrow.

  “Thank you,” she told Briony, vastly relieved she wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells, afraid to hurt herself worse, for weeks on end. Cael’s hand on her hip reminded her of what else she could do when she was healed.

  Heat curled in her belly, lower.

  I finally get to be with Cael, and it’s because of a witch. If Briony was pregnant, Aiyanna was hosting her shower. And it would be awesome.

  “So you’re on board?” Sophia asked.

  Now it was Aiyanna who frowned. “What kind of question is that? Of course I am.”

  Sophia grinned, and after Briony promised to deliver her potion within the hour, Aiyanna and Cael were alone again.

  She wanted to grab a book, but she’d taken those and everything else she’d kept here to Emmanuel’s. That felt like a lifetime ago, when she and Cael had fought about his powers.

  Then, she hadn’t known the extremes he would go to for her. He’d contacted the O’Malley brothers, who he rightfully wanted to avoid at all costs, for her. He’d stayed with her while she healed, and told her he loved her.

  Everything that happened on Thursday and Friday seemed so far away now, and it was only Sunday.

  Aiyanna turned in his arms and lifted her head for a kiss. Their lips met, and this time, there was nothing gentle about Cael’s mouth on hers. Her face was almost completely healed, and he didn’t hold back. He growled into her mouth, his teeth hitting hers, his tongue moving deep.

  His hands were feather-light on her waist, trailing up her back.

  She held him tightly; she could do no injury to him. Letting her hands roam just like she’d always imagined, she clutched him while she felt the muscle carved into his waist and abdomen, even across his back, with the other. He was ripped …which wasn’t surprising, considering the fury by which he went through his workouts.

  It really was a miracle the pack didn’t destroy more gym equipment than they already did.

  This was a man who could be protective of her and back up his claim. Now that he had his powers back, she wouldn’t be surprised if Cael proved to be the most lethal werewolf in New Orleans, or, for that matter, the most lethal creature in the city. It was sexy as hell, having that kind of power rippling under her fingertips.

  Since he was physically much stronger than her, especially in her condition, he merely allowed it when she pushed him onto a nearby chair. It would hurt to lean over him, but she had an inexplicable need to be in his lap. She wanted to feel him underneath her, to rub herself against him until sparks flew.

  Aiyanna straddled him, pressing her clothed center directly against his, her mouth never leaving Cael’s. He physically jerked, his hands keeping their soft touch while his mouth promised retribution.

  What she would have given for him to take her right then and there. He wouldn’t, though. His concern for her was too great, and even she had to admit she wasn’t quite up to that.

  But it didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun with him now, tasting him and learning the contours of his body.

  “Keep this up and I’m going to embarrass myself,” Cael warned, his voice deep and filled with gravel.

  “No you aren’t,” a highly amused Briony said from the doorway. She clutched a bowl of something steaming, with bandages draped over her arm.

  Cael used air to gently disentangle them and settle Aiyanna on her feet, invisible hands steading her. She shot him a grateful smile, hoping no surprise showed on her face. Why didn’t she hear Briony’s entrance? She had super-shapeshifter hearing! She should have recognized Briony walking down the hall, much less registering when the woman opened the door to the room.

  When she looked at Cael, she understood how simple her answer was: she was that into him. She’d become so lost in him, there could have been an earthquake tearing the firehouse apart around them, and she would’ve only noticed that if a particularly heavy bit of debris landed on her head.

  As Aiyanna gained her balance, two other witches came into the room, one with a caring, sympathetic smile that reminded her of Briony, and the other with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Judging from the herb-y smell emanating from the friendlier woman’s purse, Aiyanna guessed she was a witch like Briony at least.

  “These are Cynthia and Lundie.” Briony indicated each woman with a tilt of her head. “It’s harder to make this healing potion than the one I made for Sophia’s burns, so I enlisted their help, and they were kind enough to oblige.”

  “No kindness about it.” Lundie rolled her black-rimmed eyes. “If you aren’t in top form, we have one less healer and fighter in the city, and we need as many recruits as we can get.”

  “One of our own and her child were at the Rouses when Pureblood attacked,” Cynthia explained softly. Her eyes were wide, as if she still didn’t believe it. She shook her head, pulling her red hair in front of her shoulders. “They barely survived. For the time being, our coven is dropping everything in order to focus on getting that group of vampires out of the city.”

  This time, when Lundie spoke she didn’t seem quite as angry. “No one else we love is going to be hurt by those bloodsuckers.”

  “Thank you.” Somehow sensing they needed a hug, she reached out to embrace each of them, one after the other. Then she hugged Briony, just because.

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help.” With the warlocks and insane humans they couldn’t do much about, New Orlea
ns didn’t need Pureblood added to the mix.

  It was a horrific day when a supermarket, a necessity, wasn’t a safe place to be.

  Unconcerned with modesty—it had never been a concern of hers, truthfully—Aiyanna pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in a cheetah-print sports bra and her blue yoga pants. Earlier, Briony had helpfully brought her some of her own clothes, which Aiyanna had left in the laundry room. It didn’t take a witch to know when another woman simply wanted to be in her own clothes.

  Aiyanna had been grateful, and now she was ecstatic. If she thought she could take a picture of Cael’s face without making him angry, she would. Her bra was fairly modest for her, but it pushed her breasts up and revealed a deep vee of cleavage, all of which Cael was currently ogling, his mouth practically hanging open.

  “Help us out and hold the bandages, eh?” Lundie shot Cael a shit-eating grin, and he came back to himself, despite his gaze continually drifting back to Aiyanna’s chest.

  He offered Aiyanna a small grin, his eyes full of enough heat to make her blush.

  Cynthia took one look at her and laughed, while Briony only smiled serenely, eyes twinkling. The witches made quick work, soaking half of the cloth bandages in their potion and applying them all around her torso, covering her like a corset that ended before reaching her breasts. That done, they put dry bandages on top, wrapping them around her waist and clasping them so they didn’t fall away.

  “You’re done,” Briony chirped. “Tomorrow, you’ll feel like a new woman.”

  “There shouldn’t be a scratch on you,” Cynthia added.

  With that, the three left, Lundie grinning widely. It might have been the day or the herbs in the potion, but Aiyanna was suddenly tired again, as if she hadn’t napped the afternoon away.

  She would be so glad tomorrow when she no longer felt like an invalid.

  Cael must have noticed her fluttering eyelids. Carefully, he used what seemed to be cushioned air to lift her onto bed. Instead of tapping into his powers to cover her with the sheets and comforter, he crawled in beside her and pulled the soft blankets over them both.

  “I’m going to taste all of you tomorrow, vampires or none,” he growled.

  Goosebumps rose on her skin as she purred quietly. His laughter soft in her ears, she fell asleep looking forward for tomorrow, no matter how perilous it could be.

  * * * *

  Raphael regarded the nondescript brown house and wondered how Nathaniel ended up here. A line appearing between her brows, Mary seemed to be thinking the same.

  “Has he been—” she started, shutting her mouth quickly when he shook his head sharply.

  “There’s no telling what he can hear,” Raphael whispered. It was a short walk, only two or three strides, from the home’s doorstop. He knocked loudly three times before running his hand through Mary’s long hair to soothe himself.

  He ignored the buzzing phone in his pocket. Before he could involve his pack in this, he had to fully understand what the Elders did to them.

  Nathaniel must have been waiting for them because he opened the door almost immediately. Raphael went from petting his mate to wrapping his arm around her, a silent warning to the man standing before them.

  If Nathaniel moved toward Mary in any threatening capacity, Raphael would kill him, Elder or not.

  Depending on what the man said tonight, Raphael might kill him anyway.

  “Come in.” Nathaniel nodded to them both respectfully, surprising the hell out of him. Sure, he’d helped them back when he and Mary fought the botos, before he became Alpha. But even then there was a trench between them, the difference among one of most respected werewolves on Earth and a man who’d only just been freed from self-inflicted imprisonment.

  After Raphael became the lupus dux, the gulf was still there, albeit slightly smaller.

  Now, Nathaniel’s body language and expression indicated they were equals. The time-weathered skin around his eyes was relaxed, not stern, and the frown he wore was merely a thoughtful one. What the hell?

  Beside him, Raphael could sense Mary was dying to speak, but refrained for his sake. He squeezed her waist and inclined his head to her. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet anyway, and she undoubtedly had all the diplomacy between the two of them.

  “Nathaniel, we were informed today that Cael’s been innocent this whole time. So much about this pack, all controlled by you Elders, doesn’t add up, and Cael is only the latest example of that.”

  While she spoke, Nathaniel led them through the house, out his back door and onto a bluestone patio. Heaters were running in all four corners, and when he gestured for them to sit, Mary chose the seat closest to the warmth.

  Unsurprised, Raphael sat next to her.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Nathaniel asked, rather than comment on Mary’s statements. “I’m about to get myself one.”

  Both Raphael and Mary declined, and Nathaniel disappeared back inside the house. The small backyard offered a view of every neighboring house’s windows and roofs. The sky above them was a perfect, bird’s egg blue, and the air felt warm for the middle of winter, ideal weather conditions for the night’s biggest parade, Bacchus. Men two doors down spoke loudly about the Super Bowl, while it seemed Nathaniel’s next-door neighbor was somehow sound asleep in his house, snoring noisily.

  Mary watched the frozen, dying flower bed, making Raphael crack a semblance of a smile when she brightened the flowers’ blooms, the petals becoming fluffier, the stems standing straighter, turning greener.

  Once Nathaniel returned to sit across a small table from him, what smelled like an expensive whiskey in his hand, Raphael couldn’t keep himself from speaking. “Why do you have a house here?”

  Nathaniel took a slow sip of his drink. “If I address what Mary brought up a minute ago, I’ll be able to better explain why I stay here.”

  “Then explain.” Raphael growled.

  The Elder breathed deeply and drained the contents of his glass. “We are not the apex predators.”

  “This isn’t Animal Planet, Nathaniel. You’ve screwed up all of our lives!” The only reason Raphael didn’t leap across the table to strangle Nathaniel was Mary’s smaller hand closing over his. He couldn’t speak with her telepathically, but she was saying, don’t.

  The Elder looked up, unremorseful. “Bear with me, Raphael. This is important, no matter what television program it reminds you of. We, werewolves, are not the apex predator. That means someone else is, and they’re capable of destroying us. It also means that because they’re stronger, they are the Alpha predator, and we aren’t capable of fighting back efficiently. All we’ll do is die that much sooner. As Elders, we had a choice. We could sit back and watch our kind die, or we could do something to change the cards.”

  He pointed at Raphael, and then Mary. “You are what changed the cards for us. When your elemental powers were bound for so many centuries, they morphed. They grew into something different from typical weres. Haven’t you ever wondered how you have so much strength in almost all four of the elements, when most, rare omnis have weak control over their abilities? Have you noticed that Heath, and I’m suspecting Cael, now have additions to their elements they didn’t have before, while Sebastian controls electricity, which has never been done by a werewolf?”

  As his excitement softened, Nathaniel smiled. “When your powers grew, they wanted to grow more. Somehow, it led all of you to meet your mates, strengthening you further. You have banshee capabilities now, I’ll bet Heath has more control over fire than he thinks he does, and Sebastian is a witch too. If I were a betting man,”—his smile turned to a self-satisfied grin—“and I am, I’d bet Cael has something you’ll all envy once he mates with that shapeshifter. My point is, we’ve set all of you up to become something more than what you were. We chose you to defeat the warlocks, our apex predators, because you’re the only ones who can.”

  “What about Alex?” Mary asked, her
voice thin.

  Nathaniel’s grin faltered and faded, but he wasn’t cowed. “You know he killed a lot of people before he was sent here. What you don’t know is that he’s the only witch to ever become a werewolf…well, witch or warlock aside from Briony, and she doesn’t count because she was mortal when Sebastian made her were. Alex used magic to gain the powers of a werewolf, not knowing what that combination would produce. You see it’s different when mated couples share powers, like Briony and Sebastian. Sebastian is a witch now, but his magic is diluted because he only has a portion of what a born witch has, that part given to him through his mate, just like Briony will have some fire tricks up her sleeve.

  “Alex used a spell, and more than a few talismans made from werewolves, to become a full-blooded warlock and a full-blooded were. I can’t imagine why, but the result was disastrous. As you saw back in December, he can destroy like no other. When he killed those people in France, and one of the packs in Paris caught wind that a werewolf did the killings, he decided to take his own memories instead of answering the werewolves’ questions. It took us years to discover all of this, but no matter what he did, we knew we needed Alexandre on our side. Then we brought him to New Orleans.”

  Nathaniel spread his hands. “We chose the rest of you because of your goodness, because you showed loyalty and the potential to turn into the men you are today.”

  “And you treated us like criminals.” Raphael met Nathaniel’s eyes, disgust churning in his stomach. “You took good men and treated them like the worst of our kind’s criminals, for centuries in some cases.”

  “It had to be done.” The Elder rose, returning a moment later with his decanter of whiskey and two more glasses. Raphael was tempted when Nathaniel offered to pour him some, but he shook his head. He needed his mind clear.

  Mary, who wasn’t a fan of whiskey even on the rare days when she did drink, shook her head.

  Nathaniel tilted his glass at them, apparently using his power over water to keep the whiskey from spilling over the edge. It simply shook slightly, looking oddly like Jell-O in his glass.