The Empath

by Bonnie Vanak

  Baylor gave a flat smile. “Sure. There’s time enough later for talk. And we should talk, Nicolas. There’ve been changes since you left us.”

  Nicolas cradled Misha in one muscled arm and then slid his other arm about Maggie in a possessive gesture. He shot the other male a hard look readable in any language—stay away.

  ———

  Leaving Maggie to rest, Nicolas closed the bedroom door. When he entered the kitchen, Baylor sat on a wood stool at the granite-topped island.

  Nicolas leaned against the doorway. Animosity radiated off the other Draicon in waves. Why the hell had Damian sent his nemesis? Baylor had challenged him in the past for the coveted position as Damian’s second in command. He had been the first to point out Nicolas had broken pack rules by teaching magick to Jamie and should be banished. Baylor also said Nicolas posed a subtle threat to the pack, reminding everyone of his origins.

  Nicolas wasted no words. “Why are you here?”

  “Damian sent me to help keep Margaret safe, and because he wants us to make peace before he dies,” Baylor said quietly. “I’m willing if you are, for the pack’s sake.”

  The statement floored him. Nicolas rubbed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Why would you want that?”

  “For Margaret. You’re bringing her home. I trust that you’re doing it because you want back into the fold. I don’t care why. We desperately need her healing powers. One female died of the disease, many more are sick, including Aurelia. The pack is falling apart.”

  Anguish speared him. Aurelia had been like a mother to him. Now she was dying, as well.

  Baylor folded his arms across his chest. “You’re the magnet drawing Margaret back to her real home. I doubt she’d come without you, if the biological pull is as strong in her as I suspect. Of course, I could always mate with her before you do and solve the problem that way.”

  “Lay one hand on her and I’ll rip you to shreds.”

  “Touchy, aren’t we? I hear the mating urge gets more intense as the moon grows fuller.” Baylor’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Pax, then. But I won’t fail in my duty to the pack.”

  The last sentence was a clear insult. Nicolas bristled. “Neither will I. And if you’re going to suggest I will, just say it.”

  “All right.” Baylor jumped off the stool. “You broke pack rules. You should stay banished. You’re dangerous, Nicolas. You’re a loaded weapon and that makes you unpredictable. I kept telling Damian he was making a mistake in taking you into our pack, but he didn’t listen. And then you went and taught magick to Jamie, a human, against our rules. Why, Nicolas? Why would you teach a misfit mortal already vulnerable to Morph influence?”

  Nicolas said nothing. If he revealed the truth, he broke his promise to Damian. The secret would cause the pack to panic. Silence condemned him, yet he had no choice.

  “Same answer you always give.” Baylor came toward him. “I can only draw my own conclusions. You’re power hungry and wanted to use Jamie to topple Damian from leadership. Only the Morphs got to her before you could. You got your wish, Nicolas. Damian might be dead by the time I fly back. Happy?”

  Nicolas closed his eyes in agony.

  The other male released a deep sigh. “Fine. Just bring Margaret back, help us find a cure for this disease. I can’t say I’d trust you again, but I’ll declare a truce if you will.”

  “I will. But I’m watching my back. I don’t relish having a knife stick out of it. Go ahead and challenge me, if you dare.”

  Nicolas flexed his biceps. Baylor stepped back with a look of watchful respect. The other male knew Nicolas would win.

  Only because he was strong. The moment he displayed any weakness, he was toast.

  ———

  Maggie sat on the bed, Misha in her arms.

  She had to try again. The pain-free period Misha had enjoyed turned into restless whimpering. Whatever Nicolas had done hadn’t lasted.

  Maggie stroked Misha’s head. Big brown eyes lifted to meet her gaze. A lead weight compressed her chest. Misha was dying and there wasn’t a damn thing left to do. Except heal her. Or do the humane thing, and finally put her to sleep.

  Burying her face into the dog’s soft brown fur, Maggie choked back a sob. She was losing her best friend, who understood her, loved her unconditionally. She stretched out one hand. It trembled violently. She had the power to heal. But this? Whatever cancer or strange disease affected Misha? What if she herself died from the attempt? Could she handle the pain?

  She can’t make the decision for herself. But if she could, what would she tell you? Let me go?

  As if sensing her thoughts, Misha looked up. Maggie knew the answer. Misha was ready to die. Even though Maggie wasn’t ready to let her go. The only alternative was healing her.

  I’d do anything to take away your pain, sweetie. Anything. I have the power.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, if this doesn’t work,” she whispered in a broken voice. “But I promise you, if it doesn’t, you won’t be suffering anymore. I’ll do it then. I will.”

  She laid her palms on the dog, envisioned the ugly, thick black mass spreading, growing…growing. Shifting inside her.

  Pain like a thousand white-hot knives slammed into her, twisting her vital organs. Maggie moaned in agony. It was too much pain, too much to take on, she couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry, Misha…

  Maggie yanked her palms away as if they had been seared on a stove. She bent her head, moaning a little.

  The dog feebly licked her hand as if to say, I understand.

  Fresh resolve filled her. She had to try harder. Knowing what Misha felt, that bursting, stabbing pain as if someone had grabbed her intestines and given them a vicious twist.

  She laid her palms on the dog, this time concentrating, seeing only the disease as she would as a vet. A mass needing extermination, absorbing it into her body, through her skin, her very spirit, seeing Misha stand, wag her tail and bark and run as if she were a puppy again.

  Searing agony slammed into her. Maggie bit back a scream and grimly held on, seeing cells made whole again, blackness disappear. Riding through the pain, she focused until the agony became a vortex dragging her down. Darkness rushed up to meet her and she fell into it.

  ———

  Outside, Baylor busied himself at the grill. He speared a steak, flipped it over. Leaning back in one of the wicker chairs, Nicolas traced the outline of a crystal wineglass. The ruby vintage caught the fading light, almost looked like blood.

  He and Baylor had established a tentative peace for Maggie’s sake. The Draicon had filled him in on everything he’d missed. Small talk, easing the masculine tension bristling between them.

  He folded his arms across his hollow chest. Damn, he missed the pack. His family. He’d do anything for them. He was doing everything, Nicolas reminded himself. Bringing Maggie back to them. Loneliness smashed into him. He hungered for his family. All he’d done to protect the pack, keep them together, and yet he was so distant from them. Alienated.

  Always having to prove himself over and over by killing the enemy. He’d secured his position by violence. Maggie would secure hers through gentle healing.

  How could they ever mesh their two opposing lifestyles?

  By teaching her to accept her heritage, and be the Draicon that killed Kane, the Morph leader. He would teach her to become as violent as he was. The thought troubled him a little.

  He thought of the eventual mating bond with Maggie. They’d absorb each other’s powers, thoughts and emotions. Maggie had been on her own for years, no closeness of family. He’d sensed the deep loneliness in her. And her gentle nature, unwilling to hurt even a fly. When bonded with her, he’d not only absorb her powers, but every weakness as well. Maggie would benefit from his warrior’s strength and fighting knowledge, but what would absorbing her softness do to him? Her gentleness twined with the healing nature of an empath. But it could backfire against him.

  For years he’d demo
nstrated his ability to maintain the enviable position as Damian’s trusted second-in-command. Other males challenged his authority and power. Especially Baylor. Even a modicum of weakness would make Nicolas susceptible to a challenge that would send him out of the pack for good.

  Nicolas decided to hold back in the mating bond. He could not become weak. Gentle, as Maggie was gentle in her healing ability.

  Yet would failing to share all of himself allow him to absorb enough of her empathic abilities? He needed her magick if Maggie failed to heal Damian. The thought kicked him in the teeth.

  He stood on the threshold of gaining everything. Or losing it.

  The aching emptiness inside him seemed to expand.

  It flowered as he listened to Baylor talk about the pack. Homesickness stabbed him. The soft ping of crystal clinking as Baylor set down his glass reminded him of feasts at the enormous banquet table where the pack would celebrate. Nicolas inhaled the wine’s scent, relishing the faint citrus tang on his tongue, the smoothness of the vintage.

  Maggie tasted like wine, innocence and rising desire. He licked his lips, remembering her tongue tangling with his. Sharp arousal filled him.

  “How is she?” Baylor nodded toward the house.

  “Pretty damn well, considering twenty-four hours ago, she thought she was human.” Admiration for his mate filled him. “Maggie is tough, beneath her gentle demeanor. She’s in severe denial, but has a warrior’s soul.”

  “Has she demonstrated her legendary aptitude for destroying the enemy?”

  “Not yet. She will. I’ll teach her.” He drained his glass, set it down and wiped his mouth with his wrist. “When I’m finished, our Maggie will be a little warrior.”

  “Trained as a hunter?” Baylor shook his head. “What a shame to turn so much beauty into something like you.”

  Nicolas bristled. “Like me?”

  “A killing machine. Sometimes I wonder if you know anything else. Or want anything else.”

  Nicolas ran a finger down the glass. He couldn’t argue the point, since it was the image he’d always projected. Deep inside, he longed for something more. He knew he could never have it. Not him, Nicolas, the male who needed to command respect. Changing topics, he asked about a subject certain to distract his rival. Baylor enjoyed bragging about his love life.

  Slyness entered Baylor’s expression as he turned the heat off under the steaks. “Katia and I have been exclusive now since you left. I think she finally realized who was the better male, now that you’re gone.”

  Katia was a lovely young pack member who once serviced Nicolas’s sexual needs after he’d returned from fighting Morphs. She had an eye for Baylor, and admired him, but they weren’t true mates. She’d confessed that once to Nicolas. Nicolas felt a stab of pity for the male. Some Draicon spent their whole lives searching for their missing halves and never found them. Those Draicon usually settled for mating with others equally lonely.

  Baylor gave a nod at the sky. “We went running before I left with the pack, after a few of us ensured our territory was Morph-free. Slept under the stars. Good times.”

  Awash in memories, Nicolas stared at the setting sun dappling the pines. Long nights running with the moon as family, hunting, then snuggling up together, the familiar smell of wolf pack, engulfing him into drowsy sleepiness. Sex with any pack female he wanted. But the fervent coupling always left him empty and wanting more. Would he ever find fulfillment? Even with his mate, he doubted it. He could never fully share himself and risk her knowing his secret….

  A creaking sound snapped him out of his morose thoughts. Nicolas and Baylor turned to see Maggie creep out onto the porch. Alarm filled him at the hurt stamped on her pretty face as she sagged against a pillar.

  “I think…it worked,” she rasped. “Misha.”

  Dark shadows smudged her deep blue eyes. Her color was grayish. She staggered forward.

  “Maggie, you healed Misha!”

  Ignoring the obvious excitement in Baylor’s voice, Nicolas went to Maggie as she collapsed into his arms. He held her upright, her heart hammering fast as a hummingbird’s.

  Baylor frowned. “You must get her to New Mexico immediately. If she healed the dog, she can heal Damian. You have a duty to the pack, Nicolas.”

  His duty to the pack. Always the pack. What about his duty to his mate? Nicolas stroked Maggie’s sweat-dampened hair. She shivered against him and clutched at his shirt.

  “Stay out of this. And leave us alone.”

  “If you won’t take her back, I will.” Baylor narrowed his eyes.

  “Try it. Lay one hand on her and I’ll break your fingers. She’s too frail and she’s not ready. She just rediscovered she’s a Draicon and needs more time. I won’t let you endanger her, runt.” A snarl rippled through his voice. “We’ll do this on my time and hers, not yours.”

  Peace between them shattered like glass. The Draicon fisted his hands, clearly itching for a fight. “You were banished, Nicolas. Maggie is your only way back into the family and that’s why you won’t let her go. Fine. But I’m taking the dog. We need her blood. And be forewarned, if you try to stop me, I’ll challenge you. I won’t make it easy.”

  Again, Nicholas’s position was threatened. He’d always had to prove himself as the best warrior, the fiercest fighter, the most loyal member. The icy void inside him widened. Best to keep to himself. The barrier he always erected to protect his emotions rose like a metal shield.

  “Challenge me later, when Maggie’s better. Then we’ll see who’s the strongest pack member besides Damian,” Nicolas growled.

  Defiance flashed in Baylor’s hard gray eyes. “You’re not really pack.”

  Maggie pulled back, her lower lip wobbling tremulously. “Please, stop fighting. Stop it, just stop,” she whispered.

  Nicolas shot Baylor a warning look and turned his attention to his mate. Tears shimmered in her deep blue eyes. Pain mirrored there turned them into glacial shards. He touched her mind and recoiled from the burning agony slicing through her.

  He lifted her into his arms, her body icy to his touch. Maggie’s head lolled backward as if she lacked the strength to hold it upright. Dread speared him as he ran into the bedroom, her legs and arms flopping limply.

  Baylor followed, looking angry. “If anything happens to her…”

  “Go find all the blankets. She’s freezing. I have to get her warm.”

  Nicolas removed her shoes. He ripped the covers back with one hand and gently laid her down. Dusk thickened. A cool breeze sifted the white gauze curtains at the window. Maggie lay on the bed, shivering so hard the mattress shook. He laid a hand on her forehead, filled with dread at her skin’s cold clamminess.

  Curing Misha had cost her dearly. The reaction turned her body feverish, as if she fought off infection. He jammed a hand through his hair. Antibiotics hadn’t cured the disease. He doubted it would aid her healing now.

  All he could do was watch over her, hope she pulled through. Remembering how thirsty the disease made Damian, he fetched a glass of water from the bathroom across the hall. Maggie didn’t respond, only buried herself deeper into the covers.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  Baylor sounded concerned as he came into the room and stacked a pile of blankets on the dresser. He stared at Maggie with the same look Nicolas had seen in the mirror. Maggie, their pack’s last hope. Nicolas grit his teeth. Like him, Maggie had a duty to the pack.

  No one would ever let him forget it, either.

  “I’ll see to it. Leave us alone.”

  Resentment flashed on Baylor’s face. “You’re not mated to her yet, Nicolas. She’s not committed to anyone. Get her well, or there will be consequences.”

  Nicolas raised an eyebrow. “If you’re done barking, go make yourself useful. Go to the store and buy raw meat. She’ll need it.”

  Runt. He watched Baylor stalk away then turned back to Maggie. Her eyes fluttered open. “Nicolas? Nicolas, I’m s-so cold. So c-cold.”
>
  He heaped more blankets on the bed, but she continued to shiver violently. Nicolas stripped off his shoes and clothing, tossed back the covers and climbed into bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her against him. It felt like embracing a block of ice. Nicolas stroked her hair.

  “Shh, I’ll take care of you, caira. Let me warm you.”

  Maggie’s moans faded as he held her. She felt so good in his arms. He put his chin atop her head, wishing to take away her pain. This was agony, watching someone you cared for suffer. Nicolas rubbed his cheek against her hair, inhaled her scent. Threaded into the smell of light jasmine and sunshine was a darker, sicker scent. The smell of terminal disease.

  “Fight it, Mags. Don’t let it take you under. You can do it,” he encouraged.

  For a while he lay there, embracing her, worried the disease would suck her under as it had with Damian. A fierce protective feeling filled him. He wanted to hold her close and never let go. Run off with her, forgetting pack, family, duty.

  Nicolas pushed aside the fantasy, inwardly admonishing himself for a moment of weakness. He concentrated on warming Maggie. Gradually he became aware of a shift in her body temperature. Her skin no longer felt ice-cold. It was working. She was overcoming it.

  To give her strength, he wove his thoughts into her mind, memories of good times with the pack, laughter, kinship. His admiration for her strength and how she’d survived for so long on her own. Nicolas fed this to her in images until she moved against him.

  “I’m tired,” she whispered.

  “Then sleep,” he soothed.

  In his arms, she slept at last. But Nicolas did not close his eyes, keeping guard over her to ensure she was safe. He smoothed a lock of sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead. She looked so fragile and pale, and his heart twisted. If healing Misha from the disease made her this sick, what were the chances of her surviving healing an adult Draicon like Damian?

  Would the attempt kill her?

  Chapter 9