Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 51

"Shit," Ambrose swears under his breath. "I can't see past the blood. It's too deep, and—ah, got it!"

I hear something clink in a metal bowl, and then feel Ambrose press a wad of bandages hard against the wound.

"Alright, Noah—I got it out. You can Shift now. Shift for me, please," he says. "I've got you, now. Come on."

As he speaks, he lifts me again, carrying me quickly from the van and lying me on the floor of the garage, where there's more room for my longer, if not particularly larger, human shape.

It's still a risk to Shift with torn flesh, but it's a risk I'll have to take. With my barely-existent healing ability, if I stay a Wolf I'll probably die anyway.

"Sweetheart, please," Ambrose whispers, and I realize from the choke of tears in his voice that he thinks I might not listen to him; that I might choose to let this be my end—to let Thom win and my torn heart rest.

If it wasn't for the pain I know it would cause everyone I love, I might even be tempted by that dark promise.

Instead, I Shift, regaining my human shape in Ambrose's arms, and hearing his exhalation of pure relief as I do.

It hurts, though, and I choke with pain as my injury tears through something important, feeling my heart stutter and trip in my chest as it struggles, and then my vision goes dark. The last thing I see is Ambrose, holding me tight and kissing the side of my face, and speaking softly in my ear, promising me I'll be alright.

I believe him. Even as I fall, I know he's already caught me and—for better or worse—he won't let me go again.

~ ☾ ~

I come to on the couch in the sitting room. I'm lying with my back against Ambrose's chest, my head resting on his shoulder and his arms around me, still holding me tight.

Taking an experimental breath, I find that nothing hurts, and that except for a bit of lingering dizziness and lightheadedness, I feel fine. I'm covered with a blanket—a soft, fresh one this time—and lift it to inspect my bare chest. There's no sign of a wound, and my skin is smooth, clean and unblemished beneath Ambrose's hand.

Sitting up, I twist to look at him. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he's sleeping, but at my movement he opens them and gives me a weak, relieved smile.

"Little wolf," he says, in a whisper that sounds like dried leaves. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I answer, frowning at him. He looks unwell, his already pale skin tinged with a slightly blue undertone, and his hand shakes as he lifts it to touch my face. "What about you?"

"I'll be alright. Just...working through the pain, you know." He shrugs, or tries to, wincing and shutting his eyes again as he presses his hand to his chest. He looks worse than he did after healing Julian's case of poisoning, although this time he'd looked awful to begin with.

"When was the last time you ate?" I ask, noting the gauntness of his face and the way his skin seems to stretch over his muscles a bit more tightly than it had before.

His eyes flick open again and he lifts his gaze to mine. "I don't remember," he says. "The morning after we found Brutus, probably. Breakfast, before you left."

"Jesus, Ambrose. That was almost a week ago."

"Was it?"

"Yes. How did you find me, anyway?"

"I'll always find you, little wolf," he murmurs, squeezing my hand and shutting his eyes once more. "A dragon's... treasure..."

"Hey," I shake him by the shoulders. "Don't go passing out on me, you son of a bitch. You're gonna clean yourself up and eat something, and then you're gonna tell me what the fuck I—or we, by the looks of it—just went through a week of hell for."