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Monday afternoon, Spartanburg, South Carolina
Rory clamped his hands around each side of the gurney holding his body as Cole Cavanaugh pulled the wrapping off the mangled mess that had once been a healthy leg.
Shit, he wanted to throw up.
Twenty hours and it hadn’t even started healing.
His claws kept shooting out the tips of his fingers and his toes, then he’d force them out of sight again. He couldn’t blame that on Ferrell. Trying to shift happened to any of them when they were heavily wounded, because they healed faster in animal form.
But whatever had been off with Ferrell for a while was getting worse, which was saying something. His jaguar had never seemed normal.
Sucking in a hard gulp of air, Rory released it in a hiss.
Cole hesitated for a second, then finished unwrapping the leg. “Sorry, buddy. This sucks, but that wound smells bad already. Have you healed at all since yesterday?”
“Not much,” Rory mumbled, fighting to keep his stomach from erupting. Even his shoulder that had begun healing after the nymph touched it had slowed in mending.
Any other time, his smaller wounds would be closed up by now, even with him in human form. Blood would have stopped oozing from even significant wounds. But not the leg.
Ferrell had gone entirely silent. Not even any gory pictures. That was another thing that didn’t happen. When Rory was wounded, his jaguar would slam around, howling in pain until they shifted and healed.
Never a quiet moment with that beast injured, so why now?
Giving Rory’s leg a long look, Cole cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why aren’t you healing?”
“Hell if I know. Probably got some of that juiced-up blood on me and it’s screwing with my metabolism.” That excuse sounded pretty good even though it made zero sense medically, even for a shifter.
“Huh?” Cole cocked his head like his wolf did sometimes. “Why’d you wait until late today to come in? Why didn’t you come in last night for the Guardian to work on you?”
Rory wouldn’t be here now if a special meeting hadn’t been called. Justin had asked if Rory wanted to pass. Not a chance.
Giving a shake of his head for effect, Rory said, “Thought shifting and sleeping would get it going, but—”
The door to the infirmary room where they’d parked Rory opened, saving him from more small talk when their boss walked in. Thankfully, the Guardian was a man of few words. He expected his team to grasp the importance of any topic quickly without his having to repeat himself.
Cole stepped back. “Hello, sir.”
“Cole.” The Guardian looked up the length of Rory’s body from his feet to his face. “You’ve looked better, Rory.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why haven’t you healed?”
Had to be an echo in this place. Smarting off at the boss would not be a wise move, though. “Have no idea, sir.” That was the truth. It confused Rory as much as it did anyone else.
The Guardian stood for a long moment with a thoughtful expression, which made the toughest Gallize shifter squirm when those eagle eyes focused on him. Supposedly, if a shifter lived as long as the Guardian had, eventually the animal became so enmeshed with the human that they shared the animal’s eyes even in human form.
That certainly appeared to be true of the eagle shifter.
Moving his head as if he’d finished with his thoughts, the Guardian said, “Cole, I believe your mate and Ms. Sullivan should arrive soon, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Tess should be here by five.”
“Very good. A half hour should be enough time for us. Would you go ahead of us to meet them in case we run a bit late?”
“Yes, sir.” Cole exited, closing the door softly behind him.
Addressing Rory, the Guardian said, “I wish this would not be painful, but—”
“I remember what you had to do for me after that shifter shoved a titanium rebar spear through my chest.” The bastard had worked for a Cadell and had paid for his part in capturing Cole’s mate and Rory when the Guardian showed up.
Any time titanium entered a shifter’s body, the tissue and muscle took longer to repair.
Rory still had nightmares about that healing.
Nodding solemnly, the Guardian said, “Very well. The sooner we get started, the faster this will be behind you.”
Rory drew up all the backbone he could muster to keep from screaming when the first wave of healing power struck his raw legs. He blacked out during the process and was just coming back when the Guardian said, “Your leg will be strong enough to bear your weight in another hour, but you’ll need more time to completely heal.”
“How much time?” Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Rory pushed up on his elbows. He felt as if his body had been twisted in six directions, but his leg only throbbed with dull pain at the moment. Far better than that limb had felt before.
The head of the mechanical bed lifted until the pillow met his back.
“I wish I could say for sure. Based on your lack of healing before you came in, it could take two or more days.”
Not good news. Rory gave in and leaned back as the Guardian pressed a key on the control pad to push him all the way to a sitting position.
Clearing his raspy throat, he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“For putting you into so much pain you passed out?” Dark eyebrows lifted over those eagle eyes.
Had the Guardian made a joke?
“That does sound screwed up, sir, but it beats a week or more of being off my feet while the tendons and muscles mend.” More like, it beat having a leg rot and fall off, but he did not want to have that conversation with the Guardian. Rory would figure out his problem and fix it.
After two knocks, the door opened and the smell of roast beef filled the room as a young man on their service staff placed a bed tray across Rory’s legs and uncovered the plate. Rare beef had been piled next to three servings of broccoli and a special power shake. Ironically, as one of the team medics, Rory had created this menu as a meal for anyone on the team who was healing.
With a nod from the Guardian, the young man left as quietly as he’d entered.
A heavy silence followed as Rory wolfed down everything he could get his hands on. He wasted no time on manners. Any shifter, especially his boss, would understand his need to feed an injured body.
When he wiped his mouth on the linen napkin and leaned back, he turned to his boss to hear what the Guardian had been waiting to say.
With that quiet resolve that clung to him like a second skin, the Guardian asked, “Are you sure you have no idea why your body has not even started to heal after so many hours?”
Damn. Guess this conversation was going to happen anyhow.
Looking up to meet that intimidating gaze, Rory told the truth. “I don’t have a freakin’ clue, sir. I remember all of the battle and nothing stands out as exceptionally different that happened.” Nothing except a wood nymph who had shaken him with that haunted look.
Something about her had called to him ... what?
No, hell no. She had not called to him. He just felt protective over a female with bounty hunters after her.
Was she safe on the run?
“Justin’s report indicated you volunteered to take the lead to insert yesterday,” the Guardian said, clearly moving on from Rory’s problem with healing.
Justin wouldn’t have come right out and said anything, but he could be clever when writing a report to get his message across. Asshole.
“Yes, sir,” Rory replied. He’d learned a long time ago that saying less could be more.
“That makes four times you’ve volunteered to take point since Cole survived the Cadell attack and bonded with Tess.”
“Five, actually, if we’re going to count.” Rory would own this right up front to hopefully get his boss to see that he had been the best choice each time.
Walking to the side of the room and pausing to stare at nothing, his boss said, “You are correct about the total number of times. I was pointing out only the times where Cole, Justin or both were on a mission with you.”
Rory kept his mouth shut. This conversation was not headed in a good direction. No reason to pick up a shovel and help bury his own ass.
Turning back to Rory, the Guardian leveled him with a concerned look. “I can recall only one previous time when one of my Gallize shifters began losing the ability to heal himself.”
“Really?” Rory asked with genuine interest. Maybe it was just something that happened from time to time and the Guardian could fix it. “Did you figure out what caused his problem?”
“Yes. He was doing it to himself.”
“Uh, I don’t understand, sir.”
Speaking with measured words, the Guardian said, “Due to his frame of mind, he was killing his animal.”
What? Rory sputtered, “You think I’m killing my animal? Is that even truly possible?”
“I don’t think you’re doing it intentionally, but I do think that may be what is happening. To answer your second question, yes, it is possible, but it would terminate the human side as well. We are not immortals, but beings that fall between those and humans.”
Monsters. Rory kept that label to himself, too. He might not be happy about what he’d become, but he respected the Guardian and his Gallize brethren. He would not push his personal beliefs on them.
Cole and Justin were ecstatic over having found mates. Rory couldn’t be happier for them, but he didn’t want to continue his bloodline.
The Guardian spoke with a soft tone at a steady pace, which indicated he was imparting significant information. “It took me a while to realize the lion shifter whose animal was dying had never embraced his new life as a Gallize shifter.”
“Hmm. I’ve embraced the hell out of mine, both here and overseas.”
“You did gain control of your jaguar and you’ve certainly performed well in difficult situations, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Every Gallize goes through a transformation to fully accept his animal and become one in purpose and in being.”
Rory’s neck heated as the Guardian circled closer and closer to what he’d kept secret for so long. He’d made peace with his situation and accepted that his life would not be a long one, but that didn’t mean he was ready to submit to death. Not for another three years.
Listening to the Guardian made him realize something he hadn’t thought much about.
Given a choice, Rory would continue living.
The mating curse determined how long an unmated Gallize could live, but he’d never given thought to dying sooner ... or staying longer. He thought his future had been predetermined.
Was he killing his jaguar?
Ferrell snarled low, coming back around now that Rory had begun healing, but his animal had never been withdrawn before, especially when they were injured.
Thinking back on the problems Cole had experienced with his wolf, Rory asked, “I never saw Cole have any issues with healing and we all know he didn’t like his animal one bit at first.”
“That’s true, but that’s why Sammy came in to give Cole one last chance to make it as a Gallize shifter. While working with Sammy, who was no easy taskmaster, Cole gained control and accepted his wolf as part of his being. Those two eventually found a middle ground to work as a team. Had he not, he would never have lived long enough to meet his mate again, because he would have suffered the same fate as the lion shifter.”
Swallowing, Rory asked, “What happened to that shifter, sir?”
“This occurred in 1782. He kept his problem well hidden for eight years, until the day he was badly injured in a bloody knife fight with a human. His body tried to shift, but managed only a partial change.”
Rory grimaced at the mere thought of getting stuck.
The Guardian continued, “Once I was alerted, I tried everything I knew to save him, but he languished in that half state for weeks. Had he been entirely human, he would have died in a day. Had his animal not been so close to death, he’d have shifted and healed in a day. Instead, he died in the most inhumane way.”
“Why didn’t you end it?” Rory might regret his angry tone later, but at the moment he couldn’t.
How could the Guardian allow one of his to suffer that way?
“I would have,” the Guardian replied. “But he made me wait until his brother could be located and brought to him. He had things he needed to say before he died. His brother had been a missionary for many years and back then communication was slow. I went myself to find the man, because no one else could fly across oceans in the eighteenth century. Still, it was difficult due to little information beyond a letter my shifter had received a year earlier. I did find his brother and put him to sleep to fly him back.”
Shit, that had to be a brutal trip even for the Guardian, to carry a full- grown man over the ocean.
“Once the lion shifter and his brother spoke for an hour, he asked his brother to wait outside and called me in. He said he regretted killing his animal and not because he was dying as well, but because his animal had been there for him and had saved him many times in spite of his not wanting his animal. He asked me to put his animal out of misery. I fulfilled his request.”
“Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have questioned you,” Rory mumbled, more than a little embarrassed to have sounded so accusatory.
“Accepted. I am concerned about you, Rory. You’re a fine man and an excellent Gallize shifter, but your recent interest in volunteering to take every point and being slow to heal is troublesome.”
Coming from this man, troublesome was the equivalent of crisis level.
“I hear what you’re saying, sir, and I admit I’ve had moments of ... confusion. I don’t have a death wish for me or my jaguar, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Ferrell sent Rory the image of his human nose sticking out a foot from his face.
Nothing like your animal calling you out as a liar.
But Rory really did not see himself as having a death wish. He had never wanted to be a shifter and had fought an internal struggle for years to accept what he was but ... he needed to move this conversation to a different topic until he had time to think on it more. “I admit that I feel it’s important to protect Justin and Cole. What if they’re the only ones to find mates?”
The Guardian’s expression didn’t change at the switch in topics, but Rory sensed that his boss knew he needed some space and therefore answered the question. “That would be disappointing, to say the least, but the health and well being of every Gallize shifter under my protection is my sole purpose for being here. I will do all within my power to guide and heal all of you, but I can’t save anyone who doesn’t want to save himself.”
Rory dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes to stop the onslaught of guilt. Had he been slowly killing his animal?
Ending up with Rory had not been Ferrell’s fault.
Ferrell sent Rory an image of his jaguar laid over on his side, not breathing, and with his eyes staring straight ahead, empty in death.
A large hole had been dug next to the jaguar’s body.
Cut it out, drama queen. I’m trying to think and figure out how to fix us.
He got a rumbling snarl inside for that and a picture of Rory lying by the hole with his jaguar staring at him with a smile.
Ah, the asshole was back. That was better.
Rory had to cure this problem with his jaguar, but that would not change his position on mating. As a young man, he’d assumed he’d settle down and have a family, but that was before he knew he was a shifter.
No descendant of his would have to face his life and future.
One more image flashed in his mind of Rory in human form striding toward a blood-filled ocean full of piranhas.
He snapped his eyes open and sat up straight, then sent a silent message to Ferrell. If you don’t want to die, stop giving me reasons to take you with me into that ocean.
