Shifter Bound

by Leisl Leighton

  ‘We can’t wait for Bron. We have to do something now.’

  ‘You’re holding her here.’

  He grimaced. ‘She’s holding herself. She’s using the bond and I’m holding her to it, but she’s weakening. She’s lost too much blood. The bond will tear if we don’t do something. Please… help. You’re a nurse. Surely there’s something you can do.’

  She looked lost for a moment and then her eyes flared wide and she almost snorted out something that sounded like a laugh. He could swear she whispered, ‘Shut up you idiot,’ but he had to be wrong. Suddenly she was moving, racing over to the bed. She ripped off the bloody sheet. ‘Put her up here. We have to stop the blood.’

  He levered himself up, his energy almost depleted as he fought to keep Eloise with him. He wasn’t going to let go. She was his. She wasn’t allowed to leave him. Not again. Not now they’d found each other again after all this time. ‘Please. Don’t let her die.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can, but you have to move. I need to get some saline into her. And blood.’ She raced to the fridge and yanked upon the door. ‘Fuck. They don’t have any AB negative.’

  ‘Take mine.’

  She glanced at him. ‘You’re AB negative?’

  ‘No. I’m O negative.’

  ‘That’ll do for now. We’ll deal with any complications later.’

  Iain held onto Eloise’s hand as Shelley fetched what she needed. ‘Stay with me, Little Bird. Stay with me.’

  Chapter 26

  ‘Are you sure?’ Shelley asked Iain, cannula poised over his arm. ‘This isn’t exactly best practice.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ He gripped Eloise’s hand tighter, his fingers brushing over the bandages Shelley had bound over the wounds. ‘She’s my mate. She’s hooked into the bond, using my Were energy, she can have my blood too.’

  Shelley nodded, glanced over her shoulder at Marcus and Adam. ‘There’s already been enough death today.’

  Blood flowed from him into Eloise. Iain’s wolf growled in satisfaction. The idea of them nourishing their mate in this way pleased the animal heart of him. Eloise had started carrying his scent in the last week or so, but now their scents were wound together in a way they weren’t before. She was his. Well and truly his. She had him inside her, just like she was inside him. In his heart. His soul. His mind. His pack bond. She was everything. And he would spend his life making sure she knew it. His Lone Wolf soul might want him to roam, but never from her. She was his centre. The reason for everything.

  ‘Must get fluids into her,’ Shelley mumbled as she set up a saline drip.

  In the distance, the lift dinged. Jane and Alistair, and maybe others. They’d have felt it when their Alpha died. They would be vicious in their grief. ‘Shelley—’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘Marcus will help me deal with them. You can’t move.’

  Feet pounded down the hall and then Jason and Skye, River and Bron ran into the room—they must have broken speed records to get there. They came to a sudden halt as they took in the scene before them. Alistair and June stumbled in behind them. One look at their Alpha had them falling to their knees, keening their grief to the ceiling.

  ‘Oh my god!’ Skye gasped.

  ‘Adam!’ Jason shouted, lurching towards his brother. ‘Bron! Help.’

  ‘He’s gone,’ Iain whispered, tears welling in his eyes. ‘He’s gone. It happened so fast. Cain got them with the same lightning bolt.’

  Bron dropped down on her knees beside Adam, her hands held out over him. Shelley gripped her shoulder. ‘Don’t. He’s gone.’

  Bron shook her head. ‘No. He’s still here. The bolt missed his heart. It’s still beating. It’s faint but still beating.’

  Shelley blinked, then looked beside her. ‘That’s impossible. I saw—’ Her voice died away and she jumped.

  ‘Saw what?’

  She blinked again, and shook her head. ‘I must have been mistaken,’ she whispered. ‘Can you heal him?’

  ‘I’m trying. I’m trying.’

  ‘What happened to Cordy?’ Skye asked, kneeling beside the other witch who was still slumped across her mate.

  ‘I had to put her to sleep. Her grief was …’ She swallowed, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘The spirits here were going wild.’

  ‘She’s alive.’

  ‘Yes. But Marcus is dead.’

  Silence. Cordy’s grief could fill her completely and then she’d die too—but none of them wanted to face that right now. The situation didn’t allow that kind of grief to enter into it—they had to take care of the living and worry about the rest later.

  Shelley knelt beside Alistair and June, taking their hands, whispering something to them Iain couldn’t hear. They stopped keening, but June still sobbed. Alistair’s eyes filled with a fury of grief that burned Iain just looking at it. The McVale Pack had lived through the loss of Jackson McVale and his mate only a few years earlier, the grief still raw inside them. He knew what the McClunes were going through and wished there was something he could do to help them.

  ‘You are so kind.’

  The voice fluttered in his mind. It took him a second to understand he’d actually heard it. ‘Eloise?’ He gripped her hand tighter.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t leave me.’

  ‘I’m trying not to.’

  ‘Don’t stop trying.’ He held on tighter, inside his mind, wrapping everything he was around her, around the link to her in his mind, refusing to let go. But she was so weak, so close to death. He didn’t know if it would be enough. ‘I’m here. I’m here. Don’t stop trying.’

  ‘Iain? What is it? Are you hurting?’ River knelt beside him, keeping his eyes on his own mate.

  ‘No. It’s Eloise. She’s in my mind.’

  River gripped his shoulder. ‘Hold onto her, man.’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ Bron said, her voice tight with the pain of healing. She winced. ‘Oh Goddess, this hurts.’ Jason knelt next to her, his hand on her shoulder, feeding her energy, pulling on pack. All except Iain. Jason knew. They all knew. Eloise was his. They would help him keep her here. First River, then others came in to feed energy into him to help him hold on while Bron worked on Adam.

  She worked into the night, pulling Adam back from the edge. Shelley got the McClune Were to listen to her, and together they moved Cordy to a gurney and covered Marcus, then they called on the lieutenants and went hunting, their fury focused for the time being on tracking down Cain. Once they were gone, Shelley did what she could for Iain and Eloise, stopping the transfusion when she deemed Iain to have given as much blood as he could. River moved between Bron and Iain, giving his energy to both of them, and Skye and Jason stayed with Bron and Adam.

  Iain had no idea what was going on in the outside world and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the woman whose breathing had deepened slightly, her cheeks still far too pale, milky lids heavy over peridot eyes he loved so much. He could lose himself in those pools of green-gold until the end of time. If only they would open and look at him. Then he’d be able to relax a little and breathe. The bond wasn’t as stretched as before, but it was still way too thin.

  Eloise’s eyes moved under her lids, flickering back and forth. She was dreaming. He wished he knew what she was seeing. He wished he could tell her she was his mate. That he loved her. He didn’t have to ask why she’d tried to sacrifice herself the way she had, but he did want to tell her she couldn’t ever do anything like that again. He’d almost lost her. The thought of that emptiness had panic clawing in his chest.

  ‘People in comas have reported hearing those around them,’ River said, reading his thoughts.

  Iain didn’t know if that was true, but just in case… ‘Eloise, my Little Bird, I love you. Come back to me. You’re my mate. My soulmate. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t include you. Please. Hear me. Follow my voice. Come back to me.’

  ***

  ‘Come back to me.’

  The voice whis
pered in Eloise’s head. So familiar. So loved. She tried to answer, but the night around her was too thick and the words wouldn’t travel. She kept walking through the darkness. It seemed she’d been walking for ages. Time was endless in this dark space. Nothing to visibly show change. Not even the sound of her feet on the hard ground.

  Only the voice. And the feeling she was going in the right direction.

  A pinpoint of light became visible, dancing before her eyes so that at first she thought it was a firefly. But then it got larger and she realised the light wasn’t dancing, it was her movement that created the flicker. Light through the branches surrounding her. Trees. A forest.

  She walked on until she saw the light came from the window of a cottage set in the heart of the forest in a snug clearing. She looked up as she entered the clearing. The night sky spread overhead, stars sparkling white and blue and red and green in the velvet black-purple sky. From the other side of the clearing, there came a sound—hooves against hard-packed ground and the rustle of leaves; a wicker and a soft voice urging hurry.

  ‘Almost there, mo ghrá.’

  ‘Do not call me that. I am not your love.’

  ‘You are more my love now than ever afore, mo ghrá.’

  ‘I am having my dead husband’s child!’ the woman argued.

  ‘More reason then to hold you dear.’

  ‘Argh! You are the most frustrating man I have ever met.’

  ‘I am na fully a man.’

  ‘No, you are a beast.’

  ‘A beast who adores you, mo ghrá.’

  The woman glowered at him and then winced, her face screwing up. The man reached up to rub her back. ‘The bairn, mo ghrá?’

  The woman nodded, panting, ‘It is coming.’

  The man lifted her from the horse, handling her as if she were the most delicate, precious thing he’d ever touched and, despite her protests, carried her to the cottage.

  His caring brought tears to Eloise’s eyes. And as those tears fell, she was pulled forward into the scene.

  Pain gripped her stomach, rippling around to her back. She had to stop herself from crying out in agony. Her pain only worried Malcolm—and she didn’t want that. Not because she loved Malcolm or thought for one moment he was her mate—because she wasn’t and he wasn’t—but because he was nice to her and didn’t deserve to be worried. He’d made heart-aching love to her in a moment of need and hadn’t made her feel anything but precious in the time since. He hadn’t pushed to be with her again in that way, which she appreciated, even though a large part of her would have liked it if he had. He had just been her Shadow, taking care of her and her needs, becoming her right hand as the pregnancy progressed and she finished her travels to complete the links to the packs and the covens so the final spell could be released.

  The only time he had tried to dominate her was before this last trip. Heavily pregnant, she was exhausted from her efforts. Malcolm had wanted to call the final pack to her so she didn’t have to travel once more. She would not hear of it. The link would be all the stronger if she used the powers of the dance in the area near the pack’s lands where the coven lived. She would not allow him to talk her out of it.

  That was the first time he’d mentioned being in love with her. And he’d done it in such an offhand way, she’d almost missed it.

  ‘My father would be laughing in his grave to see me paired with such an obstinate mate. He always said our men fell in love with women who were born to test us. Aye, and he was right. It is an apt description of you, mo ghrá.’

  She had tried to laugh it off, but the sensations growing inside her—the feelings she didn’t want to accept—made that impossible. He wanted her to let the mating bond come fully into being. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that. Because if she did, she’d have to admit she loved him.

  Oh, Goddess. She loved Malcolm. Even though she’d sworn she would never love another, she loved him. Longed for him. Wanted to be with him more than anything, if she was honest with herself. But she would not be responsible for…

  Waters gushed down her leg as he set her down to open the door of the cottage. ‘Oh.’ She couldn’t help the sound of shock escaping her lips. This babe was coming awfully fast. The pains had started not long ago, and yet she wanted to push. None of her other children had come this quickly. Was something wrong?

  Malcolm swung her up again. His lips were tight, skin pale.

  ‘What is wrong,’ she managed.

  ‘I smell blood.’

  ‘Oh, Goddess. My baby.’ She clutched her stomach. He laid her down on the pallet she’d used last night. The straw was still sweet smelling below the linens and furs, but she barely noticed—all she could think about was the precious life inside her that could even now be fluttering out of existence. ‘Don’t let my baby die.’

  ‘I willna let that happen, mo ghrá,’ he whispered, his Scottish accent made all the stronger by his worry. He cupped her face. ‘You and the bairn will live if I have to give my life’s blood to the Dark One to do it.’

  She grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes. ‘Do not make such promises, not even for me.’

  ‘But you are my mate. I must protect you.’

  ‘I am not your mate yet. I have not accepted.’

  ‘I know.’

  She heard the hidden pain in that simple acceptance. It tugged at something deep within her heart. She was hurting him. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she couldn’t tell him that, because the pain gripped her again, worse than before, like something was tearing deep inside. She screamed.

  ‘Let me help, mo ghrá.’

  She nodded.

  Malcolm placed his hands on her stomach, bent over her and listened. He could hear things she could not, things that might help the babe. ‘She is breach,’ he said after a moment. ‘I ken what to do. But dinna push until I say.’

  Bridgette nodded as he pushed up her skirts and set to work preparing for the birth. She trusted him, not just with her life, but with her babe’s. She’d seen the pack’s midwives bring babes into this world when mother and babe should have died. Malcolm’s mother had been one of the best. He’d learned by her side and as Lone Wolf, had travelled from pack to pack, to treat the sick and teach where he could. Many coven healers could learn from what the wolves knew. Malcolm had often used herb lore he knew to help others as they’d travelled. He traded his herb concoctions and medical treatment for food and shelter. His proficiency had confused her for a time because she’d thought him nothing but a warrior sent to protect her. But she’d come to see he was not one thing. He was a healer. He was also a warrior, a lieutenant in his pack, a most trusted adviser and her Shadow. He was all of this, but at the heart of him, he was the Lone Wolf. There had been times when she’d caught him looking up into the night sky or out across the expanse of hills they traversed, an expression of desperate longing and need on his face, and she had known he was the Lone Wolf first and everything else second. She could not ask him to change.

  ‘I am changed,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She gasped, but this time not from the pain. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How could I know you and not ken your worry? I ken why you havena wanted to commit to the mating, mo ghrá. You are concerned that I would leave you. That I would be driven insane as your husband was by the demands of my love for you and my desire to keep you safe making me stay in one place rather than give in to the wanderlust that makes me who I am. But you dinna ken me, mo ghrá. I am the Lone Wolf no more. I would ha’ continued on as the Lone Wolf if not for thee. But I did meet you and I did change and I wouldna wish it to be any different because for me, you are the ultimate gift.’

  ‘I never wanted you to change for me.’

  ‘I know. But you don’t understand. Lone Wolves roam because they are forever seeking the missing part of themselves—their soulmate. We can only truly mate if we find that missing part. My missing part is you.’ He rubbed his hands over her stom
ach, bringing relief to aching muscles. ‘This is the change that every Lone Wolf seeks. I never want to be anywhere you are not. It will hurt me to do so.’

  She gripped his hand tight. ‘I wish never to hurt you.’

  He held her hands in both of his. ‘Mate with me. I canna promise you a peaceful life or an uneventful one—I may still be restless to travel, to explore, to discover the world and all its wonders. It is part of my life. But given you are a restless soul yourself, mo ghrá, hungry for knowledge, we can be restless together.’

  She couldn’t help but laugh at the cheeky grin on his face, but the laugh quickly turned into a sob. ‘My children. I have left them for so long. After this, I cannot leave them for so long again.’

  ‘I wouldna ask you to.’ He stroked his finger down her cheek then kissed her stomach. ‘They will explore and discover the world with us when they can, and when they canna, we will stay with them. Truthfully, I dinna need to be anywhere but where you are. You are my world and I will spend a lifetime or more exploring thee.’

  Heat rushed through her at the hunger in his eyes—for her and only her. She could no longer deny the answering hunger in herself, but before she could say a word, pain rippled through her again. ‘Oh, I need to push.’

  He bent over her, cupped her face, brushed back damp strands from her forehead and cheeks, touched her lips with a kiss full of passion and promise. ‘Then let’s birth this bonnie wee bairn, mo ghrá.’

  Malcolm was a skilled midwife and the babe was born with a wild squeal a short time later. A triumphant grin on his face, he held the squalling babe up. Bridgette laughed and cried. Malcolm wiped the babe down and laid her on her mother’s chest in the way of his people. After cutting the cord, taking care of the afterbirth and cleaning Bridgette, freshening the furs and straw, he kneeled at her side, his eyes glowing.

  ‘Beautiful, she is, mo ghrá. A bonnie wee lassie. What name will she bear?’

  She lifted her eyes from staring at the babe, a babe who despite being created in a moment of violence and terror just before her husband had been destroyed by his power, was so loved. She had thought to name the child after her husband’s family, but now she did not want links to that past for the child—it was enough she would carry her father’s blood and some of his features. No, she wanted to look to the future and claim the other half of her soul. ‘I would like you to name her.’