Guardian's Mate

by Jennifer Ashley

  His hands, pressed to Rae’s abdomen, were red with blood—her blood. Zander’s head was bowed, his body sagging, his white hair splattered with scarlet.

  Zander was healing her. The fire came from Rae’s flesh knitting and melding back together, far faster than would happen naturally, even for a Shifter. Rae wanted to scream and scream, the pain as excruciating as when the feral had gutted her, only it was lasting far longer.

  He had to stop. Not only was Rae going to die of the agony, Zander would absorb it and feel every bit of what she was feeling now. Part of the process, he’d told her, no shortcuts, but she was sick at the thought that she could only lose her pain by transferring it to him.

  “No,” Rae tried to say. She raised her head but dizziness hit her and she fell back to the pillow. “No,” she whispered.

  Zander raised his head. His eyes were already clouded, his face ashen. “Yes,” he said firmly.

  “Stop,” Rae said, voice rasping. “I’m Shifter. I’ll get better.”

  “Not from this you won’t.” Zander bent his head again. “For the Goddess’s sake, do as you’re told for once, Little Wolf, and stay still.”

  Rae couldn’t fight him. She was far too weak to do anything but lie here, whether she liked it or not.

  The Sword of the Guardian rested on the cabinet alongside the bunk, where whatever sailor or officer used this room could store his belongings. Rae reached up and touched the hilt.

  The sword sparked, sending a jolt of electricity down her arm. The spark was answered by one from her Collar, pain biting into her neck. Rae tried to jerk her hand from the sword—wasn’t she being tortured enough without the sword and her Collar punishing her too?

  She couldn’t let go. Her fingers seemed to be fused to the hilt, and now the sword was humming, singing, filling the room with undulating noise. The waves of it hit Rae and tore a groan from her throat.

  Zander raised his head and growled weakly, “Shut up, you gods-fucked hunk of metal.”

  The sword only rang louder, as though it laughed. Rae’s pain lessened the tiniest bit—such a small amount, she was afraid to wonder if she imagined it.

  But no, second by second, the pain began to fade. Rae swore she felt all her hurts flow up into her Collar then into her right shoulder, down her arm, and straight into the sword.

  A moment later, Rae knew it wasn’t her imagination. A stream of white-hot fire surged from her body into the sword, the power of it lifting her from the mattress. The sword sparked and gleamed until Rae had to slam her eyes shut against the glare.

  She screamed as a final gush of pain cascaded from her to the sword. Rae fell back down onto the bunk so hard it rocked on the bolts that kept it locked to the floor.

  “Son of a—” Rae broke off as she raised her head, her strength returning.

  Her abdomen was wet with blood, but the wound was closed. Only a few hot pink streaks across Rae’s stomach attested to the fact that it had been clawed open.

  Zander eased his hands from her, his face completely gray, his eyes empty. But he smiled. Triumphantly.

  Then he folded up bonelessly to the floor, hands over his abdomen, his mouth peeling back in a silent scream as all the hurt Rae had endured began to consume him.

  * * *

  Zander swam back from a place of darkness and throbbing agony to the sweet smoothness of Rae’s touch.

  He lay on his back, but instead of the hard cement floor of the cabin, he felt the give of a mattress and warmth. Softness pressed into his side, but that cushion was Rae.

  She was curled up around him, her body as bare as his. The pain ripping through Zander’s torso had not long ago been inside her, but now Rae lay next to him in quiet relief. Her cheeks were pink, her skin warm and whole. Healed.

  “Come back to me, Zander,” she was saying. “I can’t lose you.”

  Zander tried to answer but not even a grunt would come out of his mouth.

  He felt the press of Rae’s lips on his cheek, her hand smoothing his chest. Where she touched, the pain eased. Zander wanted to encourage her to continue but he couldn’t speak.

  “I meant it when I said I loved you,” she said softly, her breath warm in his ear. “I do love you. I thought the Goddess was playing a joke on me when she sent me to you, but I guess she knew what she was doing.” Rae leaned closer, her next words so quiet Zander barely heard them. “I accept your mate-claim.”

  Zander was definitely feeling better. The horrible burning in his abdomen subsided a notch, even more so when Rae ran her hand over his hip.

  “Touch of a mate,” Zander murmured.

  “What?” Rae leaned down, her dark hair tumbling to his chest. Her hair felt good, silken, loosening the tightness inside him. “Zander?”

  “Touch of a mate,” Zander repeated. “Makes the healing faster. I knew—when you got through to me back at Ezra’s, when I took on Robert’s pain, I knew.”

  Rae blinked, then her eyes warmed. “Yeah, I kind of knew too.”

  She continued to touch him, the strokes of her hand brushing coolness across his hot skin. Zander turned his head and touched a kiss to her lips.

  Rae’s fingers stilled, then she deepened the kiss, her lips and tongue moving. She uncurled her body and stretched it out alongside his, her breasts and thighs against him.

  Oh, yes, so much better. Zander raised a weak hand and lifted the weight of her hair, conjuring up the energy to kiss her back.

  Her mouth was a place of heat, of goodness and strength. Zander regained more equilibrium as the kiss went on, his dizziness floating away.

  The cabin lurched, the boat hitting a swell. It rocked the bed, sending Zander onto his side, facing her. Rae smiled as she kissed him again and slid her arms around him.

  Zander’s pain receded enough for him to start to enjoy her, tasting her mouth, his hands molding her hips, waist, breasts. The whole room dipped and swayed, the Sword of the Guardian sliding dangerously along the cabinet. Zander put out one hand and stopped it, and at the same time rolled Rae under him. She gave him a welcoming smile, her gray eyes warming with passion. The sword gave an answering ring.

  The last of Zander’s pain dissipated as he slid himself inside Rae. And then nothing mattered but the two of them together, holding, caressing, Zander’s thrusts growing stronger as he tried to be as far inside Rae as he could.

  Rae entwined him in her arms and loved him back, her eyes like brilliant stars.

  * * *

  Rae woke a long time later. Zander was spooned against her in the narrow bunk, relaxed in sleep. The lines of pain on his face had gone, and a little snore came from his mouth.

  Rae touched her abdomen but the fiery streaks that had creased it were now small pale scars. She was not only healed, but she felt better than she had in a long time. Any soreness she’d acquired from traveling, running and climbing, fighting and fleeing was gone. Rae felt only a pleasant rawness from the lovemaking that had grown intense, but that was all right with her. Zander truly had the healing gift, and Rae marveled.

  Or maybe it was the mate bond. Her heart was warm, the joy surging inside her a very close thing to the terrific orgasm she’d had with Zander before they’d collapsed into sleep.

  Rae wanted to laugh, dance, shout it to the world.

  I love crazy Zander Moncrieff and we share the mate bond!

  Rae thought about how the sword had rung and glittered while Zander had healed her, and then again when they’d made love.

  She reached for it, hoping against hope. Maybe the healing magic combined with the mate bond was the miracle they needed to put it back together.

  Rae touched the sword in trepidation, then she drew a breath and tugged it free of the sheath.

  Her heart plummeted as the top half came out easily, the jagged cut still in place.

  “Bloody hell!” Rae yelled.

  Zander jumped and came awake, alert and tense, every inch a Shifter. “What? What happened?”

  “This!” Rae held
the broken sword up in front of his face. “Goddess—what does a girl have to do?”

  * * *

  An hour later, Rae found Carson leaning on the stern rail, gazing across the water as the sun slipped below the horizon. It was beautiful out here, peaceful, the deck a much better place to be than the confined spaces inside.

  Zander, after he’d scowled at the sword and said he gave up, had led Rae to the wheelhouse, where they’d said hello again to Jake the Snake, who’d curled happily around Zander’s arm. Zander had put him back in the box Miles had made for him and taken Rae to the ward room down the deck, where the other Shifters had gathered.

  All the Shifters from Eoin’s group were there, and most from Dylan’s. Tiger wasn’t with them—he and the remaining Austin Shifters had managed to make it to Marlo’s plane and fly out.

  Dylan, Eoin, and Zander discussed the fight and what it might mean. A ley line, feral Shifters, humans . . .

  It meant they were screwed, Rae knew. Not long ago, Shifters in the Las Vegas Shiftertown had discovered that the Fae had been making swords that would trigger Shifter Collars to render Shifters helpless. Apparently, several Fae clans were working to re-enslave the Shifters—Battle Beasts as they were called.

  Had the feral Shifters found a way to cross to and from Faerie—and why? Eoin now asked. Were they working for the Fae or against them? The idea that Shifters would voluntarily work for the Fae was farfetched, but what if the Shifters had already been enslaved, body and mind? Ferals didn’t always know what was going on inside their own heads. Dylan, Eoin, and the other Shifters had gone on speculating, and that was when Rae decided she wanted some air.

  She leaned next to Carson now and gazed at the azure and pink sky, the sun lingering on the wide horizon. “When I see something so beautiful,” she said in a quiet voice, “it’s hard to believe there’s evil in the world. I mean, why can’t we all just enjoy the glory of a sunset?”

  Carson didn’t answer. The two of them simply stood for a time, neither of them speaking as the sun slipped lower. Then Carson said in a hollow voice, “You almost died. I nearly got you killed, and a lot of other people, with my need for revenge.”

  Rae turned to look at him. Carson’s gray eyes were haunted, his face drawn.

  “You couldn’t know that the attack on you and your wife was part of a nefarious Fae plot to re-enslave Shifters,” Rae said, trying to sound reasonable. “Who gets up in the morning thinking that?”

  “I blamed all Shifters everywhere,” Carson said, the words bitter. “I made their lives hell instead of asking one to help me.”

  “And when you did find one to help you, you got Zander.” Rae let herself laugh. “You drew the short straw that day.”

  “No, I got you,” Carson said, and Rae’s laughter cut off in surprise. “I finally found someone who cared about Viv and understood what I needed to do.”

  “Sorry it didn’t work out,” Rae said softly.

  “Maybe it did.” Carson returned his gaze to the horizon. “You and Zander pulled me out of a very dark place and returned me to the world.” He shook his head. “I need to get back to her soon. I don’t like to stay away too long, in case . . .”

  He trailed off and Rae didn’t know what to say to comfort him. It will be all right sounded lame, because she had no idea whether anything would be. She gazed silently with him across the water as the ball of sun sank under the dark blue water.

  As the sun disappeared, the very top sliver of its disk seemed to hover above the horizon. The sliver brightened, then glowed a sudden, brilliant green. Rae gasped, and just as her breath left her, the green glow disappeared, and the sky returned to its red-orange hue.

  “Hey, did you see that?” Zander’s hands landed next to Rae’s on the rail, his tight arm brushing hers. “A green flash. Awesome. Haven’t seen one in a long time. See, the air has to be just right—”

  “Zander,” Rae interrupted him. “You’re a healer. Can we see if it will work on Vivian?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Zander turned sharply to Rae. His expression of wonder faded and his look became guarded. “I’m a Shifter healer, Little Wolf. I’ve tried to heal humans before. It didn’t work.” The sadness in his eyes attested to that.

  “Will you try anyway?” Rae asked. “I’ve heard that a green flash is a sign from the Goddess. Maybe she wants us to try.” Rae didn’t truly believe in signs, but what the hell? She wanted to help Carson and didn’t know how else to do it.

  “Us,” Zander repeated slowly, holding her gaze.

  “We make a good team,” Rae said. “So yeah. Us.”

  Zander watched her for a long time. He’d replaited his braid, weaving green beads into it this time. He must carry a supply around with him.

  Zander’s touch was tender as he traced Rae’s cheek. He leaned on the rail after a time and gazed out at the western horizon, which was deepening to dark blue. “All right,” he said, voice neutral. “We’ll give it a shot.”

  * * *

  Vivian McCade was in a private nursing home in Seattle. Eoin drove them there after Miles put in the boat at Port Angeles. Eoin insisted on coming with them, not wanting to let Rae far from his sight. Her injury had hit him hard.

  Rae and Eoin hid their Collars under light jackets—the rain that began to fall as they drove into the city was the perfect excuse. There was no disguising the Sword of the Guardian, however, which Rae wouldn’t leave behind. Carson, who was recognized as soon as he walked into the nursing home, said it was an antique they didn’t want to leave in the truck while they visited, which was technically true.

  The receptionist only nodded behind her high desk and went back to her computer.

  Vivian’s room was large, decorated in pleasant shades of yellow and blue, with a wide window to let in plenty of sunshine, though right now, thin rain was pattering on it. The furniture—soft chairs around a coffee table, a bookcase, and a plant stand—attempted to disguise the fact that this was, in fact, a hospital room. The head of the bed was slightly tilted up so the dark-haired woman resting on it looked comfortable. Machines beeped quietly on the wall behind her and tubes snaked into her body, keeping her alive.

  Carson’s expression took on one of love, anguish, and resigned despair as he approached her. On the nightstand was a photo of Vivian and Carson, a duplicate of one Rae had seen on his photo device. The couple smiled at the camera, wrapped around each other, happy.

  Zander remained skeptical that he could heal Viv but the fact that he’d volunteered to come and try encouraged Rae. She’d seen how terrible Zander’s pain was after he healed someone, but he did it again and again instead of running away. He’d told her his healing gift had made him a recluse and yet whenever someone needed him, there he was.

  Carson closed work-hardened fingers around Vivian’s limp hand as he sat down in a chair beside the bed. “I’ve brought some friends, sweetheart,” he said as though she could hear him—and maybe she could. “This is Rae and Zander, and Rae’s father, Eoin. They’re good people.”

  A week or so ago, this man had done his best to capture Rae and Zander and send them to Shifter Bureau. Today he was calling them friends. Funny how things turned out.

  Eoin seated himself at the far end of the room. Rae unstrapped the sword and laid it on the table near the bed, out of the way. The thing still was broken and Rae would have to confess that problem very soon.

  One thing at a time. Rae stood back as Zander pulled a chair next to the bed, sitting down and taking Vivian’s other hand.

  “This might seem weird,” Zander said to Vivian—like Carson, he behaved as though she heard and understood every word. “But I promised Rae I’d try. I have to tell you, when Rae gets under your skin, she stays there. I’ve claimed her as mate and she said yes. I’m still reeling about that.”

  “Get on with it,” Rae said softly. Zander had made the claim again, in front of Eoin and the others, before they’d disembarked the boat. None of the Shifters had
been very surprised, including Eoin. Shifters always knew when a mating was meant to be.

  Zander kept Vivian’s hand in his and spread his other arm across the mattress next to her. He bowed his head, drew a breath, and began his chant.

  The prayer to the Goddess, in the old Celtic language, droned in Zander’s deep baritone, filled the room. Rae drew closer to him, listening, the sound releasing all that was tight inside her.

  She glanced at the monitors above Vivian’s bed, not knowing what the numbers and lines meant. They beeped softly, unchanging.

  Carson watched the monitors too as Zander’s chant went on, Zander’s voice flowing in its strange, low tone. A droplet of sweat beaded on Zander’s face and rolled down the side of his neck.

  Carson’s frown deepened as the machines kept on with their monotonous blips. Nothing was happening. No change, good or ill.

  Zander continued chanting as the clock on the wall moved to the quarter hour, then the half. Eoin moved restlessly, but he didn’t get up, only watched.

  “It’s not working,” Carson snapped.

  Zander’s chant cut off. He lifted his head and let out a breath. “I know,” he said, his voice scratchy from use. “I healed a non-Shifter before, but he was full of magic, even more than Shifters. I don’t know if I can help a human. I’m sorry.”

  The pain in his voice was heartbreaking. Zander had so much compassion inside him, it must tear him up when he couldn’t heal someone. No wonder he hid out in the middle of nowhere, alone.

  “Keep trying,” Rae said softly. “Maybe human metabolisms are slower to respond. Shifters heal pretty fast, you know.”

  Zander caught her gaze, the bleakness in his eyes reminding her she’d been pretty far gone herself. Zander’s plea, Don’t leave me, Little Wolf. I love you too fucking much, had reached Rae through her pain and brought her back.

  Love you too, Zander, Rae had said, and she’d meant it with all her heart.