Chapter 13
13
Morgan couldn’t pull her gaze from Rafael’s pale, silver eyes, perfectly outlined by long black eyelashes. His eyes were mesmerizing. She forced oxygen to move through her burning lungs. He was so incredibly handsome.
His long black hair cascaded over his shoulders, the straight tips almost to mid-abdomen. His sunkissed skin was the envy of every woman she knew who tried to get the perfect tan every summer.
Her gaze moved to the scar from his right temple to the outer corner of his eye, and then, like a lightning bolt, the faint white line turned downward, dissecting his cheek and disappearing at the edge of his mouth.
She reached up, her finger lightly trailing the pale white path. While he wasn’t as muscular and broad as Torin, his body was lithe and muscled, more like a runner or mountain climber. She refused to look at his lower half, not wanting to see his smirk.
“How did you get this scar?” she asked, reluctantly dropping her arm.
He turned to the window, his jaw muscles bunching as he clenched his teeth. “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. It’s the most vivid and only memory I have from my youth. I don’t remember my mother or my siblings very well. I can recall their faces as if in a dream, but my father… Him, I remember well. He was a large man, all muscles and brawn. When he drank, which was nightly, he was loud-mouthed and belligerent.”
Uncrossing his arms, he leaned against the countertop, gripping the sink’s edge, his knuckles white. “He would tell us to finish our chores—mine was mucking out the makeshift barn he had thrown together. We didn’t have much, but our three horses, two cows, and ten sheep were everything to my mother. They fed us and kept starvation at bay, an achievement during those years. One day, my father returned home early and was in a surly mood. Nothing pleased him, not even my mother’s delicious stew.”
With each softly spoken word, Morgan’s heart tightened, and she placed her hand over her breastbone as Rafael’s pain beat at her. She silently rubbed her middle finger against her thumb, and the calming scents of lavender and pine from the scattered candles throughout the living area filled the room.
Forcing her feet to move, she stepped behind him and gently laid her hand on his back. He didn’t react to her touch, his mind touching on events from long ago.
Ever so softly, she pulled on her Fae magic, soothing his growing agitation so he could breathe through the heart-wrenching memories. He inhaled the pleasant scent, and underneath the palm of her hand, his body relaxed. Knowing his story would not end well, she kept her hand on his back to give him whatever comfort she could.
He released a long exhale. “From the outcropping where I stood, I heard my father yelling. One of the baby sheep had strayed too far from his mother, and I couldn’t find it, so it had taken me longer than usual. Not that I wanted to go home either.”
He hesitated, then continued. “I turned to head back and smelled the smoke—I took off running. When I reached the house, flames had already filled the one-room interior, and I could hear my mother screaming from inside. I raced to the front door and tried to move the large barrel shoved in front of it, but it was too heavy.”
Rafael’s breaths turned shallow, his muscles bunching beneath her hand, so she placed her other hand beside the first. Uncaring if he noticed, she ramped up the soothing waves of magic flowing from her body into his and rested her forehead between his shoulder blades.
“I pounded against the scalding wood door,” he continued, not seeming to notice her. “I screamed for her, telling her I would find a way to get her out. I glanced around, trying to find something that would break through the door, and heard laughter behind me. My father had come up behind me, but his grinning face looked more like a madman. I will never forget the crazed expression in his eyes as they glistened, the red flames behind me reflecting in their depths.”
A sharp crack sounded in the small kitchen, and she glanced down to see a hairline fracture spreading from where his hands gripped the edge to the far side of the granite countertop.
“I noticed he held something in his right hand. His fingers were tangled in my oldest brother’s long, black hair. He held only the head.”
“Oh, Rafael,” she whispered, horrified at what he had been through. Her parents’ murders had been horrific, but she had had Gwyn, and they got through it. Rafael had no one.
“I grabbed the only thing I could, a pitchfork. I was only seven and didn’t have the strength, but I still tried. I lifted the fork and ran toward him. At the last moment, my father deflected the tines with his free arm, and I caught the glint of silver as his left hand moved in front of me. A searing burn moved up my face, but I only heard his maniacal laughter.”
Rafael finally turned and pulled her into his embrace, his firm grip holding her against his trembling body. “My father killed my mother, my two older brothers, and my baby sister that night. I still question why he didn’t kill me. He was always hard on me, harder than he was on my brothers, and I never understood why.”
She listened to his steady heartbeat as the trembling slowed and noticed her heartbeat matched his. She rested her cheek against his soft shirt, hoping her presence eased his pain and that he could finally start letting it go, but knowing otherwise. Rafael was not the type to put things behind him and move on. He was too broody, but she would find a way to help him, whether he liked it or not.
She thought about his last statement. “Maybe he realized you were the strongest and thought by leaving you alone without anyone to help you or take care of you, you would die too. Who knows what his thoughts were that night? From how you describe him, he wasn’t in his right mind, so trying to figure it out will do you no good.”
She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “Tell me about your mother.”
A light smile touched his lips, one corner rising slightly more than the other as his grip around her shoulders loosened, letting her breathe a little easier.
“She was a beautiful Spanish girl, no more than twenty-five when she was given to my father as a payment. She loved being a mother and would have had twenty kids if she could have, but about a year after my sister was born, my father kicked her in the stomach, and she wasn’t able to get pregnant again. I remember him telling her she was no longer a woman and was useless because he needed the labor to raise more sheep.”
He glanced down at her and shrugged one shoulder. “He never would have been successful, no matter how many sons he had. He drank everything he ever earned.”
She caressed his cheek, feeling the slight indentation of the scar, and wished she could remove the horrible memories of his childhood. “I am so very sorry. I can’t imagine losing my mother at such a young age.”
“But you did lose her.”
She nodded. “Yes, I did. Gwyn and Momma were really close, so it was harder on her. I thought my father walked on water and imitated everything he did. Gwyn used to make fun of me for it. I’d mimic how he walked, relaxed, talked…” She thought back to her childhood, the beautiful memories so lifelike that she could almost hear her parents’ voices.
Her heart ached, and tears blurred her vision. “We always laughed. My mother was the serious one, and knowing what I know now, I get it. My father, however, always laughed and made the corniest jokes.”
She turned in his embrace and stared outside. “I love it here. Your home is so peaceful. Sitting in the caves feels different. Down there, it’s more like being wrapped in a cocoon. Outside, though, with the openness, I feel like a bird soaring through the heavens, yet I draw energy from both.”
He kissed the top of her head. “This is the first place I’ve found where I feel at peace. This house and land are the first things I have ever called my own.”
Something hit the front door with a thud, and they both turned as a soft whimper came from the other side. Rafael strode through the room with Morgan on his heels as he threw open the heavy wooden door.
On the ground outside lay one of the wolves. Morgan recognized the light-brown coloring of Kahlúa. Dropping to her knees beside the severely injured canine, she ran her hands over his blood-matted fur. “There are so many claw marks.” She met Rafael’s worried gaze. “He’s alive, but barely. I will need your help, or he won’t live.”
Lucan ran out from among the nearby grove of trees and crouched at the wolf’s head. He laid one hand over the wolf’s cheek, one of the few places there wasn’t blood. “I can also help. I will warn you, though, my energy will feel like a massive amount of caffeine hitting your system. It can be…difficult…to contain.”
“I will be fine. Fae magic feels much the same.” She inspected the wolf’s mangled body, her heart breaking for the animal. She felt his faith in both males, even as torn up as he was. Kahlúa shifted his dark brown gaze to her, and she saw acceptance in their depths.
She leaned closer to the beautiful wolf. “I know you don’t know me very well, but please believe I will do everything possible to heal you, my friend. I feel the love you have for Rafael.” She leaned even closer, her lips next to his ear. “I, too, care for him. Please give me that same faith.” She rested her cheek against his and absorbed his blood—enough for her magic to pour into his ravaged body.
Leaning back onto her heels, she closed her eyes and let her magic flow through him, finding and sealing the torn blood vessels and knitting together what seemed like hundreds of lacerations. She wanted to cry at the amount of damage done to his poor body. The werewolf’s claws had sliced through his stomach and intestines, creating a horrendous mess inside his abdomen.
Drawing on Lucan’s energy, the power surge hit her like a thunderclap. Her body jerked as her depleted energy stores were filled to overflowing. Sending the vampire a grateful smile, she repaired the shallow cuts on one side of Kahlúa’s heart and magically stitched the deeper cut in his left lung. The only thing left was figuring out how to siphon out the nasty fluids that had poured from his intestines. Evidently, just thinking it gone wasn’t enough.
I need your help, Rafael. I have done what I can but have no idea how to remove the stomach and intestinal fluids from his abdomen. I tried to imagine it gone, but it isn’t working.
I don’t know how to do that using magic, but what if we try what the human doctors do? I witnessed an EMT using a tube filled with sterile water to flush out a deep chest wound. Would that not work in the same manner with this?
She grinned. “You’re a genius.”
His lips twitched. “I probably need to remind you of that later, but thank you.” He glanced at the vampire. “Lucan, enter the caves through the hidden door in the kitchen. Immediately to your right, you will see a large boulder. Walk around it and into a hidden alcove where I keep my supplies. To your left, there are shelves with medical supplies. Find a roll of clear tubing. I believe it’s against the wall on the second shelf from the top.”
Lucan chuckled and hurried into the house. “Your OCD is showing with how precise those directions are, my friend, but I’ll find it,” he said, his voice disappearing as he moved farther away. Two seconds later, he returned with the role of tubing gripped in one hand.
“Seconds count in emergencies,” Rafael added. “You know me, always prepared.” He took the tubing from Lucan and, letting his fingernail lengthen into a sharp claw, cut off about fifteen inches. “Now, how will we get the fluid into him?”
Morgan thought a moment, remembering the large pot in the pantry. Jumping to her feet, she hurried inside. She grabbed the pot, filled it with hot water, and carefully carried it outside. She placed it next to the wolf and held her splayed hand a few inches over the still-sloshing water.
I call to you, Airmid, goddess of healing.
I call to you, Miach, god of alchemy.
Sanitize this water to cleanse this wound.
Medicate the liquid to aid in healing.
Help this wolf, our brethren and friend,
Who suffers for our protection.
Aid this request from Morrigan’s kin.
This I ask, blessed be.
Under her palm, the water began to churn and bubble, a bluish-purple tint coloring the water before returning to normal as the water calmed. She whispered a heartfelt thanks and jerked her head toward the tube gripped in Rafael’s fist. “Place one end in the pot and hold it there. I will do the rest.”
She held the other end inside the most significant laceration in the wolf’s abdomen and magically willed the water to flow from the pot into his belly. In seconds, the infected green fluid began to pour out onto the ground around him. “Lucan, please tilt Kahlúa’s body—gently—to one side so the water rinses everywhere. We can’t leave any bodily fluids inside him, or he will turn septic.”
“Why couldn’t you do that without the tubing?” Lucan asked.
“Maybe because of the infection? Water can be purified, and I have moved it often over the years. Infected body fluids seem to be another matter altogether.”
Using the end of the tubing, she moved it deeper, trying to flush around and under the organs. Finally, the pot was empty, and she eased back, resting her aching thigh muscles and sending a prayer to her grandmother to spare the wolf’s life.
“I want to wrap his belly, so we will need to sedate him. I can’t have him moving around and ruining what we just did. Flushing out his abdomen a couple more times will be necessary, and we need to get him on antibiotics, which I have at the store in Tournai. Gwyn always keeps a variety of medicines handy when we’re doing a rescue. We never know in what condition we will find the animals, so we’re prepared for just about anything.”
“I have basic penicillin in my supplies, but only one dose,” Rafael said, holding Kahlúa’s paw and caressing the fur between his ears to keep him docile. “Will that be enough until we can get the rest?”
“It should be. It will give us a small window, so we must go now. I know what I will need, along with other supplies, and Lucan can watch him until we return. Can you put him in the same stasis spell you used on me after my attack?” Rafael nodded but frowned, his gaze moving to the tree line. He pinned Lucan with a sharp glance. “Where are the others? Mezcal would never leave his brother alone—not if he was injured.”
“Mezcal was frantic when he found me. I was only a short distance away and returned as fast as possible. What I could gather was something had attacked the pack. Kahlúa jumped in front of his mother and took the brunt of it. She was injured, but only slightly, so I told them to return to the den and placed the strongest ward I knew so they would stay safe.”
Rafael’s frown morphed into an angry scowl. “Who attacked them?”
Lucan shook his head. “The impression I got from Mezcal’s mind was an invisible enemy. They never saw who it was—didn’t even sense the creature until it was too late.”
“Merde, merde, merde,” Rafael muttered then leaned closer to Kahlúa. “Rest easy, my friend. Your family is safe and will remain so. I need you healed and at full strength to protect them.” His thumb rubbed the soft fur on the wolf’s cheek. “You did amazing today, and I am so proud of you. Now, sleep and heal.”
He closed his eyes, and Morgan felt the powerful tingle of magic as it settled over the canine. Kahlua’s pain-filled eyes slowly closed, his broken body relaxing.
Her Spaniard gently picked up the heavy wolf and carried him into the house. Morgan grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and quickly threw it underneath Kahlúa so he wouldn’t lie on the cold stone floor as Rafael laid him down. Without a word, he strode from the room.
Morgan caught Lucan’s worried gaze as he settled on the floor beside the wolf. She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it slightly as Rafael returned with a small syringe. “He will be fine,” she said as the Spaniard gave him the first dose of antibiotics.
Rafael tossed the empty syringe in the nearby trashcan and turned to Lucan. “Stay with him. We will check on the others before heading into town. The dose I just gave Kahlúa will last a few hours, but we should be back before then.”
“It will be cutting it close. What do I do if he gets a fever?”
“I have Tylenol in the cabinet over the sink. Crush it up in some peanut butter. It’s his favorite treat.”
Lucan chuckled. “Good to know. And if he wakes up?”
Rafael shrugged. “Use your imagination? He must stay still, so make sure he understands what could happen. He’s the smartest of all the pups—maybe even his parents. He also has a will of iron. We will return as soon as we can.” Without a word, he reached over and wrapped his hand around Morgan’s wrist, pulling her against him.
The room fell away, and the last thing she saw was Lucan’s wide-eyed gaze as they disappeared, apparating to the wolf den. Finding everyone safe inside, he reassured the alpha female her oldest pup was healing. When the beautiful white female turned her blue gaze on her and chuffed softly, Morgan wondered what Rafael said. The thought disappeared as her need to reassure the mother took over.
“I promise I will do everything I can to heal your son,” she whispered.
Feeling Rafael’s strong arm snake around her waist, she laid her hand over her heart, her gaze never leaving the mother wolf as they apparated to Tournai and the back room of her and Gwyn’s store.
The smell of death hit them in the face. Morgan gasped, pulling the horrid stench deep into her lungs, and retched. Lifting the neckline of her t-shirt, she held it over her face like a mask and glanced around the room. Everything in the back room had been destroyed.