Chapter 37 Keir
Keir
I wasn’t fast enough.
The concussive force from the explosion disorients me, rattling my brain inside my skull.
It takes several heartbeats too long before I can see straight—my vision blurs, triples, then finally focuses.
I look to the sky where Raven was circling moments ago, her black form silhouetted against the blue.
She’s no longer there. All I can see is the wall of water rushing toward me, a wave created by something massive hitting the lake.
She fell.
Terror floods my system like ice water in my veins.
My blink hound howls inside my mind, a sound that reverberates through every cell of my body.
I dive into the water without thinking, the cold shocking against my overheated skin.
I swim as fast as I can toward where I think she landed, my arms cutting through the foul-tasting water.
It reeks of decay and burnt flesh, but I don’t care.
By the time I get there, her human form surfaces—small, fragile, wrong. There’s a problem. Her right wing is broken. The main flight bone bends at an angle that makes bile rise in my throat. I’m thankful the water is supporting the weight because otherwise the pain would be unbearable.
Carefully, I move to support her head, my hands cradling her skull. Her hair floats around her face like dark seaweed. I rest her body on mine as I swim backward toward shore, letting the injured wing trail behind her as straight as I can manage. Her skin is too cold against mine—hypothermia cold.
“RAVEN!” Thauglor’s bellow from shore shakes the air itself, carrying every ounce of a father’s anguish.
“I have her! Her wing is broken—I don’t know what to do!” I yell back, my voice cracking with panic. I hear the massive splash as he hits the water, and feel the waves from his powerful strokes reaching me seconds later.
“Fuck, it’s the main bone. It looks like a clean break.
” Thauglor assesses his daughter’s wounds with hands that tremble despite their steadiness.
Other than the broken wing, she has several minor cuts on her face—debris wounds that seep blood into the water.
“Mina, call Ziggy! We need the doctors and a wing splint—Raven’s right wing is broken!
” He stares into my eyes, and something passes between us.
Recognition. “Thank you for killing the drow.”
I nod, all choked up, unable to push words past the lump in my throat. Finally, I have my mate in my arms, and she’s gravely injured and unconscious. The irony tastes like copper and ash.
“Should we keep her in the water? It seems to be supporting the wing well.” I ask softly, staring down at my sweet angel. Her face is so peaceful, so still. Too still.
“Yes, the cold water will keep the swelling down and put Raven into a state of torpor. She won’t be in pain if she’s hibernating.
” Thauglor says as he looks back at Mina, who stands on shore with Ziggy and what looks like three doctors materializing beside her.
Hemlocke and Corvis appear moments later, their faces stricken.
I change how I’m holding Raven, adjusting my grip to better support her neck.
Tears roll down my cheeks—hot against my cold, wet skin.
For the last few months, I’ve killed every threat that rose against her.
Hidden a good half dozen bodies far from where we live, buried deep where no one will find them.
I gifted her the drow head—in hindsight, it probably terrified her instead of impressing her.
The brush set I thought was a useful, beautiful gift.
Maybe finding that scared her too. I was courting her the only way I knew how, but all I did was make her feel hunted.
Carefully, I press a kiss to her forehead, my lips lingering against her cool skin. I hold her steady so her wing isn’t further injured, my arms beginning to ache from holding her.
Corvis wades out into the chest-deep water with the doctors carrying their supplies in waterproof bags.
I want to phase out of here and vanish into the shadows where I belong, but my blink hound won’t let me.
He’s locked onto our mate, refusing to abandon her.
“I’m glad it’s you, Keir.” Corvis reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder, the touch warm and grounding. “Thank you for saving her.”
His silver eyes fall to our mate in my arms, and he looks just as broken as I feel. The acceptance in his voice—the lack of accusation or territorial anger—nearly undoes me.
“I was knocked out. I didn’t see her fall.” My eyes search her face, memorizing every detail. I want to pull every ounce of pain she might be feeling into myself, bear it for her.
The doctors splint her wing with materials that smell like antiseptic and treated leather.
Thauglor supports his daughter’s wing with massive hands that are surprisingly gentle, while I hold her body still with Corvis’s help.
The water laps against us, creating small ripples that carry ash and debris.
“You saved my progeny. I owe you a life debt.” Thauglor says as he reaches out and rests his free hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and warm despite the cold water.
“She’s...” I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion I’ve suppressed for months.
I draw in a deep breath that tastes like smoke and burnt stone.
“She’s my mate.” Gently, I brush the wet hair away from her face, holding her tightly against my chest. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud.
The first time I’ve said it to anyone other than myself in the dark hours before dawn.
Our eyes focus on Raven as the last of the splinting goes on her wing.
The doctors work with practiced precision, wrapping the damaged bone in layers of treated fabric.
Ziggy wades out through the water and looks between me and Corvis, a knowing smile spreading across his face.
“Told ya.” He says with a wink, looking at Corvis.
“When you’re right, you’re right.” Corvis says with a small smile, though his eyes remain worried as they track over Raven’s still form.
“We’re done, sir.” The head doctor tells Thauglor, his tone professional. “It’s a wet-to-dry bandage. She needs to be side-lying with the wing supported by pillows. High protein diet to speed up the healing.” The clinical delivery helps ground me, giving me something concrete to focus on.
“Will she fly again?” I ask, guilt gnawing at my insides like a living thing. If I’d been faster, if I’d caught her before she hit the water...
“A full recovery is expected. We need her down at the clinic in a week for the first bandage change. My nurse will drop off a pain relief tonic to the lower nest for her.” The doctor looks to the nurse on the shore, who’s taking notes, her pen scratching against paper.
“Thank you, Doc.” Corvis says as his eyes move over how tightly Raven’s right wing is wrapped.
The white bandages stand out starkly against her black wing membrane.
He scoops her up carefully, cradling her against his chest, and I help position her good wing so it doesn’t just hang limply.
We walk out of the water together, our clothes heavy and dripping.
I can feel every eye on us as we head toward Hemlocke and the rest of her family.
I want to vanish, but I can’t; my blink hound won’t let me. He’s claimed her, and he won’t abandon our mate.
Hemlocke rushes forward and kisses Raven’s forehead, his pink eyes bright with unshed tears that threaten to spill over. Then he looks at me, and I brace for anger, for rejection. “Thank you.”
The simple gratitude hits me like a physical blow.
“There’s a small apartment in the lower nest. It has four bedrooms, and it’s close to the clinic downstairs.
” Mina says as she walks closer to examine her daughter, her golden eyes cataloging every injury with maternal precision.
“Ziggy, take them there, and then you and Keir—was it?—can move everyone down there for the time being.”
“What about Lily and Thorne at Malivore?” Corvis asks, knowing how Raven wanted to keep them close and protected.
“Lily is safe to move back into my part of the upper nest. Thorne and Evan can live in the other apartment downstairs near you.” Mina says, and I watch Corvis nod slowly, processing the logistics while our mate lies unconscious in his arms.
Before I know it, Ziggy pulls us through time and space to the lower nest. The sensation of phasing when someone else controls it is different—less controlled, more chaotic. Reality folds in on itself, and then we’re standing in a warm hallway that smells like stone and fire and home.
When we arrive, it feels safe, not scary like I was expecting it to be. The walls are warm under my palm when I steady myself. The lighting is soft, welcoming. The air carries the scent of cinnamon and something sweeter—baked goods, maybe.
Maybe living in a dragon’s nest isn’t a horrible thing after all.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found where I belong—with her, with them, protecting the female who owns every part of me, even the dark, violent parts I’ve kept hidden for so long.
It’s been two days since Raven fell from the sky.
Two days of watching her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, two days of counting heartbeats and wondering if she’ll wake up.
I lie on the bed, shifted in my blink hound form, using my massive body to support her back.
My fur is warm against her cool skin, and I can feel every breath she takes vibrating through both our bodies.
The doctors came in yesterday and fully wrapped the wounded wing closed—a cocoon of white bandages that smell like medicinal herbs and something sharper, more chemical.
They applied ointments and padding between the delicate bone fingers before adding additional support to the main bone.
I watched every moment, memorizing each wrap and twist of fabric in case I need to help her later.
There’s a moan—soft, pained—and Raven shifts a little.
I hear her wince; the sound cuts through me like a blade, and turn my massive head to look at her.
My blink hound eyes see everything in sharp detail.
The way her face contorts with pain, the flutter of her eyelashes, the slight tremor in her lips.
I bark once, loud and urgent, the sound echoing off the bedroom walls.
I need to get the others in here fast.
“Who’s there?” Raven’s voice is rough, scratchy from disuse. She turns her head to look over her shoulder at me, and I can see confusion clouding her sapphire eyes.
Gently, I lay my massive head over her body to keep her still, my weight distributed carefully so I don’t hurt her but firm enough that she can’t move and injure herself further.
My fur must feel strange against her skin—coarse and warm and very much not human.
The guys enter the room, skidding to a stop on the hardwood floor.
Their scents hit me all at once—Corvis’s freshly baked bread and cedar, Hemlocke’s wild meadow smell.
Raven’s eyes shift to her dragon’s, the brilliant sapphire blue deepening to something primal and otherworldly.
The color almost steals my breath away—like looking into the heart of a glacier, ancient and powerful.
She double-blinks as recognition flashes in her eyes, pushing through the confusion and pain medication haze.
Her hand reaches out for my head, movements slow and deliberate.
When she rests it on me, fingers tangling in my thick fur, it’s like a force of nature washing over me.
The sensation is indescribable—warmth and light and acceptance flooding through every nerve ending.
The beast that’s been clawing at my insides.
The blink hound that’s been demanding blood and violence and protection, stops trying to tear me limb from limb.
My mind, for once, goes silent.
The constant howling, the endless pacing, the territorial rage that’s been my companion for weeks—all of it quiets beneath her touch. Her fingers are gentle as they stroke through my fur. I can feel her pulse through her palm, steady and strong despite her injuries.
“Keir?” she whispers, and hearing my name from her lips makes something in my chest crack open. “You’re a blink hound?”
I can’t respond in this form, can’t tell her yes, can’t explain the months of watching and protecting and falling hopelessly in love with her from the shadows.
So I do the only thing I can—I press my muzzle against her shoulder carefully, mindful of her injuries, and let out a soft whine that carries everything I can’t say.
Her fingers tighten in my fur. “You saved me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nod my massive head anyway, careful not to jostle her wing. Behind us, I can hear Corvis and Hemlocke moving closer, their footsteps soft on the floor.
“He hasn’t left your side since we brought you here,” Corvis says, his voice rough with emotion. “He’s been supporting your wing, keeping you warm. The doctors said his body heat has been helping with the healing.”
Raven’s hand continues to stroke through my fur, the motion soothing us both. “Thank you,” she whispers, and I feel her gratitude like a physical touch against my soul.
The beast inside me settles completely, curling up in contentment for the first time in my life. This is where I belong—beside her, protecting her, being accepted by her despite everything I am.
My mind remains blissfully, peacefully silent.