And then I limp my way back to the girl.

I still don’t know her name.

I want to laugh. We both nearly died three times over, yet I don’t know her name, and she knows even less about me.

Then I do laugh, and I think I’m still crying.

I’m losing it. I know I am.

I bend to pick her up, and it’s not going to happen, my muscles are too tired, my body too spent.

Still, I manage to scrape together enough of Memnon’s power to lend me the needed strength.

I haul the girl into my arms and stumble toward the boundary separating witch from lycanthrope territory. With a final lunge, I cross the line.

I fall to my knees on the other side of it, Nero next to me.

My arms loosen, and the girl slides out of them.

And then I pass out.

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CHAPTER 29

I am cloaked in darkness, my mind wrapped in it like a blanket. It only pulls back slightly when I hear a low warning growl from Nero, who’s curled against my side.

I fight my way back to consciousness, rousing only enough to lift my hand in additional warning to whoever is approaching.

My eyes meet the brown eyes of a wolf. As soon as I see it, I drop my hand.

Not a witch.

In the back of my mind, I note the irony that even bloody and weak, I feel safer right now in the presence of a predator than I do a witch.

“It’s okay, Nero,” I whisper.

My familiar quiets, though he’s tense behind me.

The wolf paces forward, and if it’s interested in eating me, I’m F-U-C-K-E-D because I’m not moving. I don’t think I could even if I tried.

The wolf takes a few steps forward, then soundlessly shifts. In its place stands a naked older man.

He rushes over the last of the distance before kneeling at our side, uncaring that a panther is mere feet from him. I can’t see the man’s expression, but he must smell the blood on me. I’ve lost a lot, I think…

I don’t know what we must look like.

The man leans into the girl’s neck and breathes in her scent. Whatever he smells causes him to whine. Then he leans over and scents me as well, his nose tickling my skin. Nero growls again but doesn’t do anything else. I hear another whine come from the man, this one slightly different.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

I don’t think so, but I don’t bother admitting that.

Instead, I reach out and grope in the darkness for his hand. When I find it, I give it a squeeze.

I swallow, beating back the darkness that keeps clouding my vision.

“They tried…to…bind her,” I whisper. I feel a pressing need to get this story out now, in case more people come for me and the girl. “She was…drugged… Did…my best…to…get her…here.” I keep having to pause to catch my breath. Everything hurts so damn bad. Even pushing out words. And my vision keeps clouding. I think. It’s so dark. I don’t know. Confused.

The girl, I remind myself.

“Please…” I say, squeezing the shifter’s hand, “get her…to safety…before they…come back.”

“Who? Who’s coming back?”

I try to speak again, but I’m so tired. So, so tired.

I think I drift a little, but I rouse again when I hear the shifter howl, the sound of it raising my gooseflesh. I crack my eyes open—when did they close?—and see the girl is in his arms.

“Thank you for protecting Cara,” he says, and oh, he’s talking to me.

I try to sharpen my focus.

“I’m going to send some pack mates over here,” he continues. “We’ll get you healed and taken care of. Just hold tight.” That last part sounds a bit like a plea, and I understand why a second later.

The shifter retreats into the darkness, carrying the girl.

I should feel terrified of being left alone, weak as I am. But Nero is beside me, and I know he’s keeping watch. Between that and my relief that the girl is now back with her pack, I let the darkness take me once more.

It seems like only minutes later when my sleep is interrupted again. I hear the heavy crunch of pine needles as someone approaches.

One of the shifters, I remind myself.

The footsteps halt when they get to me.

“Only fools and warriors pass out under an open sky. Reckless woman, you are a bit of both.”

I jolt when I hear the voice, forcing my eyes open. In the darkness, I can barely make out Memnon’s features, but it’s him.

How did you find me? I want to ask him, but I’m so tired, and I know if I try to speak—if I dare move at all—then my various wounds will start waking up with me.

We are soul mates. I can always find you.

He reaches out and brushes the hair from my face. It’s…nice. I let my eyes drift closed and enjoy the sensation of his fingers on me. Now that I’m vulnerable, I can admit to myself that Memnon’s very presence makes me feel safe.

His hand retreats from my hair, and I hate that his touch is gone. And then I think I’m supposed to hate that I hate that, but fuck, I’m too tired to bother caring at this point.

Hands slide under my body. Even that slight jostling has me moaning as my injuries flare to life.

“It’s all right, little witch. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The moment he lifts me fully into his arms, it feels like I’m being attacked all over again. I cry out as pain lacerates across my body.

Memnon curses under his breath. “Ease the pain from within,” he utters.

His magic seeps into me from that point over my heart. Almost immediately, the pain dissolves. I want to laugh; it feels so good not to hurt. But I’m so tired. Even more so now that I have a true break from the pain.

Memnon begins to walk, and I lean my head into the crook of his arm, nestling into his chest.

“My flawless queen, my exquisite mate,” he murmurs, and for once I really don’t take issue with the terms he’s calling me. “What heart you have.”

I don’t think we’ve traveled very far when Memnon pauses, adjusting his grip so he can use one of his hands to feel where my clothes touch his. I don’t really know what he’s doing, not until he holds his fingers up, rubs them together, then touches them to his tongue.

“Fuck.” He starts moving again, only now he’s charging through the woods. “How badly are you injured?”

I don’t know. I push the answer through our bond because I’m too tired to speak.

He curses again. “I’m going to get you to your room before I heal you, est amage. If we linger out here while I mend your wounds, we will draw too much attention, and I do not trust my rage right now. I will kill anyone who crosses me—friend or foe.”

“You…have…anger problems.”

Memnon’s hold tightens on me. “You are my weakness, Empress,” he confesses, his voice gentling. “You always have been.”

As he carries me back through the Everwoods, his lips skim my forehead, and for some inconceivable reason, I lean into the action, nuzzling closer to him.

He makes a satisfied sound, and I swear I sense some emotion coming from Memnon—an ache that is so sharp, it hurts.

“You are safe,” he murmurs. “Nothing—nothing—will ever get you while you are with me. I swear my life on it, mate.”

I feel the truth in those words, though I don’t understand why he’s being this way when he’s been so clear that we are enemies.

It’s only quiet for a minute before he speaks again.

“How fierce my mate is,” he says. “I saw how you laid waste to your foes.”

Bile rises in my throat at the memory of all the sliced-up witches scattered across the forest. How did the night turn into this?

“Fear not, my queen,” he continues. “Those who survived your wrath will not live long. I will hunt them down myself and make them pay.”

Oh Goddess.

“No,” I whisper.