Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MIKO
Three figures came from nowhere, leaping into action with scythes and machetes, taking down the speedies with us—a massive guy, a tall woman, and a younger guy in his twenties. The younger man fired a crossbow at a zombie’s head while the woman beheaded two zombies at the same time with her scythe.
The massive guy cleaved the head off another, standing over Orion. My heart lurched, two biters stopping me from getting to him.
Touch him and die! my instincts boomed.
God, he’d been bitten. He needed help and I was stuck with these fuckers.
A crossbow bolt whizzed into the temple of a biter Trev just headbutted.
He gave the younger guy a thumbs-up.
The man nodded with a smile.
Shifters. The woman and the younger guy were weredolphins, their scents carrying the faint salty trace of their kind. The big bloke smelled of ferocity and ashes.
A werelion.
Whoa. Werelions were one of the rarest species, the male variety even rarer.
Based on the geography, I assumed this was Andrew Gilmore—consort of the late werelion queen of these parts, Christina Fisherman.
Male werelions were never leaders of their prides. Ever. The lionesses always ruled, the line of succession passing from mother to daughter.
Biters now clear on my end, I made sure my people had everything covered as I ran over to my mate.
Andrew faced me. “This poor fae’s passed out.”
I dropped to one knee, checking him over. “Orion?” I gently tapped his face. “Come on. Wake up.”
My guts lurched, mind conjuring terrible outcomes.
Orion beyond help.
Orion dead.
Orion gone forever.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
He was alive.
Thank. Fuck.
I clutched at my heart, relief a jabbing needle in my chest.
Paige joined me. “Let me look him over, sir.”
I gave her some room, drawing a deep breath.
He would be alright.
He had to be.
“This bite is nasty,” Paige said. “We need—”
“You need to stand aside.” Basil snapped his fingers impatiently at us.
As much as I wanted to break those vexing fingers, we did as he asked.
Basil spread himself out beside my mate, throwing an arm and leg across him, pressing his lips to his cheek.
Jealousy whispered for me to fling the fae into the field.
Reason kept me still.
Basil closed his eyes, a soft hum coming from his body, a glow on his lips.
The scene was painfully familiar, the second time watching Basil heal him, my fear a rife and stinking thing.
It didn’t take long for Orion’s eyes to flutter open, his lips to part. The bite wound healed up. He coughed, Basil holding onto him.
“Easy there,” the blond fae whispered, too close for my comfort.
You’ve done your job, now get the fuck off him!
Basil glanced at me, rolling aside to let me at Orion.
I cupped his face, pressing my lips to his. “Thank God you’re awake.”
He kissed me back. “I’m fine.” He winced.
“You’re not. Paige? Do you still have those bandages?”
“I do, sir.” I moved aside.
“Is anyone else injured?”
“One biter was wearing grills,” James answered. “Knuckles are a bit sore from a punch.”
I looked at him. “For real?”
He showed me a bloodied gold grill with diamond teeth.
“Shit. Where’s your new cap?” I barely saw his buzz cut anymore.
He shrugged. “Lost it.”
Paige quickly cleaned Orion’s wrist wounds, applying fresh bandages. She did the same to Basil, splayed on his back while he recovered from healing Orion.
I remembered the other shifters then, straightening my spine, slipping on my professional alpha armor.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Miko Reyes.”
The shifters stood together, watching on.
Andrew Gilmore stepped forward, shaking my proffered hand. A huge guy, only slightly smaller in build than Trev. His bronze skin was covered in scars, eyes like orange fires, his long hair waves of gold and gray. An impressive, glossy beard of the same color ended below his breastbone.
And what a firm handshake.
“An honor,” he said. “I’m Andrew. This is my wife, Malorie.”
She stepped forward to shake my hand. Athletically built, her skin a rich dark brown, she raked her other hand through a black pixie cut flecked with a metallic silver to match her eyes.
“Hello there,” she said. “Sorry about this terrible business.”
“Thanks for your help,” I responded.
Another firm handshake from her. “Let me help with that.” She nodded at my head, applying a big plaster she fished from her pocket across it.
I tensed under her touch. “Thanks.”
“I’ll fix it better for you back at the house.”
“And this is Arlo, our son,” Andrew said.
Arlo shared a skin tone with his dad, sported one golden eye, the other silver. A tangle of black curls crowned his head.
“Nice to meet you.” And that made three intense handshakes. “We should get you out of here before more of those shitheads arrive.”
Malorie nodded. “That fire will be a beacon. You poor, poor fae boys. Are you both able to walk?”
Orion said yes first, getting to his feet.
Basil stood up second, dusting himself down.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes!” they both bit back.
Sorry I asked!
“We can offer you shelter,” Andrew said. “You definitely need it.”
“Thanks. We’d really appreciate it,” I answered.
“Follow us.”
Andrew Gilmore’s reputation was sterling. A loyal consort, a werelion of honor. We were in good company.
If my trust ended up misplaced, I’d turn them all inside out.
I ordered my people to move, walking beside Orion.
“Want to climb onto my back?”
“I’m fine.” He sounded as cold as me at first but warmed up seconds later. “Thank you.”
“If you need to, say.”
He nodded, his complexion on the sickly side.
I hated seeing it. “Want to talk?”
He shook his head.
“Okay.”
He reached for my hand, curling his fingers with mine. Gentle sparks raced across my skin. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
He squeezed back.
Safe. My mate was safe. But for how much longer?
You deserve so much better than me…