by C. Larsen
He's still there, still alert, but no longer threatening. I have a feeling Gray's wolf never completely calms. He's always there, just below the surface, waiting.
Once his wolf no longer sees me as a threat, I fully merge my consciousness with Gray's. His aura surrounds me: a deep crimson mixed with onyx and a rich, earthy brown with speckles of bright orange, all surrounded by a thin silvery band. That same silver band that’s also around my own aura. And Olivia’s, now that I think about it. Strange.
I shake off this curious discovery and focus instead on the feel of Gray’s essence surrounding me.
My chest rises and falls in time with his. I can feel his heart beating in my chest. A gravelly purring sound vibrates through me, the sound Gray makes when he's particularly happy. I allow myself to enjoy this sensation for a moment, then I get to work.
I focus first on Gray's leg wound. Though it seemed trivial from the outside, it's much deeper than I thought. The werewolf's claws severed the muscle clean through, nicking an artery. Luckily, Gray’s extremely fast healing abilities sealed the artery before he bled out too much, but the muscle looks like it will still take a while to heal.
Calling my energy up from deep within, I knit the muscles back together, fully sealing the artery and other blood vessels.
When this is finished, I search the rest of his body, cataloging a list of superficial cuts and scratches, all of which are easily fixed. A few of his ribs are badly bruised, and the tendons in his right knee have a slight tear in them. The bruised ribs are easy enough to take care of, but the knee takes me a little longer.
Once everything is as it should, I take one last survey, and I notice something odd in his back. It looks almost like a thick layer of scar tissue over the muscles. Strange. I didn't even know werewolves could scar.
I have absolutely no idea how to heal scars, but they look like they're pulling the muscles tight, preventing Gray from having full range of motion. I can't leave without at least attempting to fix this.
I focus on the scar tissue, willing it to loosen, but the thick bands of fiber are so tangled they refuse to separate. I try again, harder, trying to pry the fibers apart, but to no avail.
Damn.
Thanks to Margie, much of my energy has been restored, but I know I'm not at full strength. I consider giving up, leaving it until I'm fully rested, but then I get an idea.
If I can't fix the scar tissue, maybe I can just get rid of it all together. Isn't that what doctors do when they remove scars with lasers?
It's worth a try.
Gathering my remaining energy, I hone in on one small section about two square inches wide, and attempt to scrape away the tracts of dense fibers. A sharp pain goes through me, a stinging of sorts, and I know I'm feeling Gray’s pain.
He stops humming, alarm spiking through him. He thinks something's wrong. Thinks I'm in danger.
It's okay, I tell him, speaking directly into his mind. Connected to him as I am, I only have to think the words and they’re there. Just give a minute. Everything is fine. I accompany the words with feelings of warmth and reassurance so he knows I'm telling the truth.
Be safe, luna. It's only a scratch. Don't hurt yourself over it.
I'll be fine. Just bear with me a few minutes. This might sting.
Focusing again on the same section, I scrape again, and again, ignoring the burning sensation. When I've scraped away all of the scar tissue in the small square, I immediately begin healing it, forcing the skin and muscle fibers to grow and knit correctly this time, covering up the area.
Surveying my work, I'm pleased with the result. The area looks normal again. Taking a broader look at Gray's back, the scarring seems to be in long slashing patterns, crisscrossing each other. What could have caused scarring like this?
Regardless, my plan of scraping it away and rebuilding the skin and muscle seems to work, so I focus on a larger area and repeat the process.
The pain is a little more intense this time, but I can handle it. I have to fix this. I scrape and scrape until the whole area is cleared away, then rebuild the muscle fibers, knitting the skin seamlessly over it.
Exhaustion sets in, but I still have more than half his back to go. I move to another section, then another. Each time, the burning is stronger, but I keep going. I'm at the end of my strength by the time I finish the last section.
So weary I can barely keep my eyes open, I look over my work one last time, making sure everything is back as it should be. Satisfied, I begin pulling back, disconnecting my consciousness from Gray's.
Once back in my own body, I have only a moment to wonder why I'm lying on the ground before everything goes black.
Chapter 26
Warmth surrounds me, settling deep into my bones. I stretch, breathing in the delicious scent of musk and woods, and I know I’m safe. Protected. Loved.
"Luna, can you hear me?" That voice, so deep and tender. But it's far away, and I'm so tired. I snuggle deeper into the warmth.
"Open your eyes, lyubimaya. Come on sweetheart, open your eyes." This time there's a hint of worry in it, of fear. Though I want to keep sleeping, I don't want that voice to worry anymore. Gathering my energy, I fight to the surface.
I groan and slit my eyes open. The first thing I see is a pair of serious silver eyes looking down at me, brightening with relief when they meet mine.
"Hey," I croak out, trying to sit up.
Hands on my shoulders stop me before I get very far. "Just rest a minute, luna. You've been out awhile. Gave me a hell of a scare."
I swallow, my mouth parched, and glance around. "Gray? Where am I?"
I don't recognize the room. The bed I'm in is huge, a forest green comforter tucked around my body. There are four pillars in the corners of the bed leading up to a canopy, like something out of a medieval story book. All the other furniture is similar in style, all a dark mahogany. Intricate carvings of trees and forest creatures cover every inch of wood.
"Mine," Gray says.
"Why am I here? Why aren't I in my room?"
I try to remember how I got here, what happened, but my mind is still foggy. Distorted images flash through my head.
"Because he wouldn't listen," Madelyn says, clearly annoyed. I turn my head in the direction of her voice. She’s over by the door, watching me and Gray with a look of disapproval. "I told him to carry you to your own room, but he wouldn't listen."
"Why would you have to carry me?" I ask Gray.
"You don't remember?"
I think back, sifting through memories. "You left to look for Derek. What happened? Did you find him?"
"No, we didn't," he says, relief clear in his voice. "You don't remember anything else?"
"Like what? Oh!" The day suddenly comes flooding back. I sit all the way up, grabbing onto Gray's shoulders. "I was healing you. Are you okay?" I try to shift him so I can see his back, but he takes hold of my hands, stopping me.
"Whoa, calm down lyubimaya, everything's fine. You healed the cut in my leg, then..." he hesitates. He glances at Madelyn, then changes what he was going to say. "And then you passed out."
Madelyn’s eyes narrow, as if she knows he left something out. After a moment, her eyes widen and she looks at me in accusation. "Burning in his back? What was that?"
Gray's growl breaks through the room. "You read my mind?"
"You shouldn't have tried to keep that from me!" She crosses the room to stand on the other side of the bed. "How can I find out what happened to Emerson if you keep something like that from me?" Without waiting for a response, she looks at me in accusation. "Why did Gray feel a burning in his back? You were healing his leg. What happened?"
A little taken aback by her vehemence, I tell her everything that happened during the healing.
When I get to the part about the scar tissue, Gray cocks his head, but Madelyn's the one who interrupts. "Scar tissue? Impossible. You can't heal scar tissue. If you don't get to a wound before scarring set in, there's nothing you can
do. Scarring is permanent."
"No, it's not," I argue. "Gray's back was crisscrossed with it, but I got rid of it."
"How?" Madelyn asks, skepticism in her voice. "If it really was scar tissue, then how did you heal it? I've studied with some of the most gifted healers of my generation and none of them have ever been able to heal scarring. Why do you think you, who only recently came into your powers, could possibly do something they couldn't?"
"I didn't heal it, exactly..." I hedge. Her criticism stings, but she’s right. Why would I have been able to do something other, more experienced witches, deem impossible? Maybe I didn't do it correctly. Maybe I made it worse. Crap... I shouldn't have tried to heal something when I didn't know how. Why did I attempt something like that when I didn't know what I was doing?
Gray cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Don't listen to her, luna. Whatever you did, you fixed the issue I was having with my back. Ever since..." He stops himself, then changes what he was going to say. "I've been having trouble with my back muscles for a while. When I moved in certain ways the muscles would pull tight, stopping me, limiting my range of motion. Whatever you did, you fixed it."
Madelyn is still staring at me, one hand resting on her hip, fingers tapping impatiently. "You still haven't told us what you did to him. If you didn't heal the scarring, then what did you do?"
Glancing at Gray's steady eyes, at the confidence and pride shining out of them, I meet Madelyn's glare steadily and say, "I removed the scar tissue."
"You WHAT?" A look of horror crosses Madelyn's face.
"I removed the scar tissue. Scraped it away. It stung a bit," I say, looking up at Gray apologetically. "But once it was gone, I could rebuild the muscle and skin, smoothing everything out."
"You rebuilt his muscles?" Madelyn's looking at me like I just confessed to murdering someone.
"What?" I say defensively. "I tried to heal the scar tissue first, but it was too dense. The fibers were knotted too tightly. I had to get rid of it before I could heal the muscles."
"How... how much of his back had scar tissue?" she asks, sounding a bit dazed.
"Uhh, a bit. It was crisscrossed, like this," I say, retracing the scars on the back of Gray's t-shirt. "It was mostly the upper back. Just a few lines here and here on the lower."
Madelyn sits down on the end of the bed, staring at me with her mouth agape. "You rebuilt the muscles for his entire upper back?"
"Well, the muscle and the some of the skin. The lower layers of the skin," I hurry to say. "Not all of it."
My gut twists as Madelyn continues to gape at me.
"What? Did I do something wrong? Is he going to be okay?"
Madelyn shakes her head, eyes wide. "I... I don't know. I've never heard of anyone rebuilding that much tissue at one time..."
I look at Gray in a panic. "Are you sure you're okay? Did I screw up your back? I'm sorry, I should have left it alone—"
"My back is fine, Em. Better than fine. I told you, whatever you did, you fixed it."
Madelyn turns her gaze on Gray. "I should take a look. Make sure she didn't do any irreparable damage."
"No." Gray's eyes flash, his wolf rising to the surface. "I'm fine," he says with a hint of a growl. "Emerson didn't do anything wrong."
"Please, Gray," I say. "Please just let her take a look to make sure I didn't screw it up."
"You didn't," he says, eyes hard. Anger pours off him, permeating the air.
I raise my eyebrows at him. *What's wrong? Why won't you let her take a look?* I ask him silently.
*She is always making you feel like you are somehow dangerous or inept. Don't let her make you doubt yourself.* I study his eyes, the clear sincerity in them. *You are so much better than she gives you credit for. Don't ever let her make you think otherwise.*
His words warm me, but in this case I think his trust in me is a bit misplaced. I truly don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to this witch stuff. I went on instinct alone. I can’t stand the thought that I might have hurt him with my clumsy attempt at healing.
*Gray, please. Just let her take a look. Otherwise I'll be freaking out about this. Just let her make sure you're okay.*
He doesn't respond.
*Please?* I press. *For me?*
The hardness leaves his eyes and he sighs. "Fine," he says, then silently adds, *But you owe me.*
I give him a half smile, then watch Madelyn walk around behind Gray and place one hand on his back. He stiffens, but doesn't try to stop her. His eyes stay on mine and I can see him struggling to hold onto his control. His wolf doesn't like her touching him.
Madelyn's eyes close as she stands there, stock still, checking Gray's back. Holding my breath, I wait for her verdict, praying that I didn't hurt him further. Caiden's always accusing me of being reckless, causing more harm than good with my impulsive actions. Is that what I did here?
Sensing my mounting panic, Gray squeezes my shoulder. "Calm down, lyubimaya. I'm fine. You didn't hurt me, and soon Madelyn will know that too."
Moments later, Madelyn's eyes open and she stares at me shell-shocked.
"How?" she asks. "How did you do it?"
"Did I screw up?"
"How did you rebuild all that muscle? I can see where the new tissue is... It's healing. It's all healing correctly, but the amount of power it would have taken to regrow all that... And you weren't even at full strength... I don't understand how it's possible..."
I let out the breath I've been holding. "So he's okay?"
"His muscles are fine. Everything is healing just as it should. I just don't understand how..."
"Because she's stronger than you think," Gray says, wrapping one arm around me.
"Yes. She is," Madelyn concedes, but her words don't hold any warmth or pride. Instead, they send a chill of apprehension skittering down my spine.
Chapter 27
When I open my eyes, I notice the light shining in between the curtains is brighter than I'd expect. According to the clock on Gray's nightstand, I've slept the entire morning and most of the afternoon. My stomach growls viscously, demanding attention. It’s been almost a full twenty-four hours since I've last eaten.
Climbing out of bed wearing only my bra and underwear, I look around for my clothes, but I don't see them.
Right... the fight yesterday. My clothes were covered in blood, shirt slashed to ribbons. Gray must have changed me out of them before laying me in his bed.
I look down at myself and grimace. I'm still covered in dried blood and caked in dirt. I must have made a lovely picture, laying in his beautiful bed looking like something just dragged out of the swamp. Before I do anything else, I need a shower.
Rather than risk someone seeing me in the hallway like this, half naked and covered in blood and dirt, I use the shower in Gray’s attached bathroom. After scouring my entire body and washing my hair three times, I finally feel clean. Wrapping myself in a huge cotton towel hanging on the wall, I walk back into the bedroom to find Gray lounging in one of the sofa chairs by the fireplace, waiting for me.
When he sees me, his mouth quirks up into a smirk. His gaze travels up and down my body. Even though I’m wrapped in a huge towel and know he can't see much of me, my face heats up at the look in his eyes.
"Good morning, luna. Or should I say, afternoon."
"Yeah... I guess I was tired."
He stands now and walks over to me. "Feeling better?" His eyes study my face, concern radiating from him.
"Yeah, I'm fine now. Just needed to sleep, like Madelyn said."
After checking Gray's back last night, Madelyn concluded that I passed out from expending so much energy on the healing. After telling me to get some sleep, she practically fled the room. I wanted to ask her about that strange moment during the fight, when the werewolf attacking me paused for a moment. I told him to stop, and he did. It was almost like he was in a trance, as if I was able to control him. But after her reaction to my healing, I didn't think it would be a good i
dea to bring it up. Especially in front of Gray.
The whole reason this feud between witches and werewolves exists is because they fear the witches’ ability to enslave them. This one particular ability of a certain class of witches is what sparked the beginning of The Great War, leading to the butchering of tens of thousands of witches and werewolves. The werewolves think they killed off all the witches from shape-shifting bloodlines, but apparently not.
I'm from Morrigan's bloodline. Brannagh's bloodline. The bloodline known for shape-shifting. The bloodline responsible for the werewolves' curse to begin with.
How would Gray react if I told him I might have the ability to enslave the werewolves once again? I'm sure it would be a similar reaction to what Caiden's will be when he finds out I'm part werewolf.
I suppress a shudder, pushing these thoughts from my mind.
No, it's better to keep this information to myself for now. Besides, I'm not even sure what exactly happened yesterday. It could be that the were' paused for a different reason. No need to get everybody worked up until I know for sure.
Concealing these thoughts behind a playful smile, I say, "So, if I slept here last night, where did you sleep?"
Gray grimaces. "In a very uncomfortable chair." He gestures to a tall sofa chair next to the bed.
"Seriously?"
"I have a crick in my neck to prove it."
"Huh. I would've thought you'd take the opportunity to sneak into my bed when I was passed out," I say, half-joking.
"As tempting as that is, I'd much rather be invited." His eyes soften as he says this, causing butterflies to attack my insides.
"Is that what this is?" I keep my voice light and playful, despite the seriousness I feel. "All your flirting, all your come on’s? You're just trying to work your way into my bed?"
Rather than grin and make some flirtatious comment as I expect, he studies me, as if trying to read the hidden meaning behind my words.
"No, Emerson. I don't just want to warm your bed. I want much more than that." At my skeptical expression, he sighs and walks over to me. "I thought I'd made my position clear yesterday, but apparently not. You haven't taken anything I've said in the past seriously, have you? You don't believe me when I say I want to be with you, and only you? That I love you?"