Page 13 of Marked

“She isn’t healing, though,” I said. “She should’ve healed by now.”

“Shush.” His magic flowed over my familiar’s body. Not gifted with healing, I couldn’t see or follow exactly what he did with his power, but my skin always tingled when he used it.

A memory of him using his powers on my naked body surged up, and my body heated. This was not the time to think about our night together. Especially when it would never happen again.

Tall with wide shoulders and bulky muscles, Orion was a specimen of a man. We’d hunted together for years without crossing that line. But Nala’s previous injury, booze and a little suggestion, it had been easy falling in bed with him. Even easier to enjoy my time there. When we’d woken up together the next morning, though, and he told me he loved me, I panicked.

I didn’t feel the same way and I never could.

I’d avoided Orion ever since because, apparently, despite being twenty-five years old, I still insisted on acting like a child. And I hated myself for it. I was the feared guardian and an honest conversation with someone I cared for scared me more than a band of poachers.

In my defense, I didn’t have a lot of experience with relationships.

I might be a monumental asshole, but Orion wasn’t. He was everything good in the world, and despite my poor handling of the situation, I knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t make Nala pay for any hurt feelings he might have because of me.

He’d help Nala.

And hopefully, he’d save her.

I tore my gaze away from monitoring the rise and fall of Nala’s chest to risk a glance at Orion. He was generally easy to read unless he wore his healer face—an expressionless mask to hide the seriousness of the situation. He rarely had cause to use it around me—Nala’s last injury would’ve killed a normal wolf but had mostly healed by the time I’d reached him. When he did use his healer face, though, it sent prickles along my spine.

Right now, his brow was furrowed, and his blonde hair fell over his face as he bent over my familiar to focus on her wound. The cabin filled with his magic as he worked, his hands moving over Nala’s body. With a step to his left, he blocked my view of Nala and his face.

“Orion?” I asked, too exhausted to move from my seat. I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of my familiar.

He didn’t bother replying. Instead, he stepped to the right so I could see my girl again. Her breathing didn’t seem as labored as before, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Orion pushed his blonde hair away from his face before placing one hand on the wound. He reached forward with the other, gripped the arrow shaft, and pulled. I lurched out of my seat. A wave of nausea flooded my senses and my vision wavered. My ass hit the chair and then everything went black.

6

“Emi?” A familiar deep voice teased my senses. “Emi?”

My eyelids fluttered open, and I found Orion crouched in front of me. Concern etched his brow. One of his hands cradled my face and the other rested on my knee. With him so close, nestled between my thighs, memories of our night together flared up and sent heat rushing to my face.

“You passed out.” He dropped his hand from my face, and then, as if he, too, realized the intimate position, lurched to his feet. Taking a step back, he ran a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The queen sent me to follow up on some reports about a hunter in the Danu. The queen suspected there were more than one and it turned out she was right. I walked into an ambush.”

Orion’s expression darkened. He stilled as if he feared he’d lose control of his anger if he moved. “The queen never should’ve sent you on your own like that. She treats you like you’re disposable.”

“She treats me like I’m capable and unkillable…which I am. Besides, I wasn’t alone. I had Nala.”

Orion shook his head and snapped his mouth shut on whatever he’d planned to say next.

“Did you run all the way here with her over your shoulders?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course not,” I said.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Only about half the way.” He didn’t know where I’d been, so there was no point arguing or lying, but I did anyway.

Again, childish. My brother sometimes accused me of purposefully acting out in an attempt to reclaim something I never truly got to experience—a childhood.

And then I’d prove him right by telling him to phaan off or that I didn’t need a therapist, thank you very much.