Moon Sworn

“Jack,” I panted, as I wrapped my fingers around the gun. I swung around and smashed it across the wolf’s face. He went down and didn’t move. “Get someone here quickly. I’ve been shot by silver and I’m fading fast.”

He swore. “The men?”

“Out of action for the moment.” My back hit the wall and I slumped down its length, my rump hitting the floor hard enough to send a wave of pain through me. For a moment, I saw red. Sweat broke out across my forehead and stung my eyes. I blinked fiercely and tried to concentrate on the wolf. He might be unconscious right now, but if the bastard woke and so much as twitched in my direction, I’d shoot him. And right now, with the silver burning in my flesh, I didn’t really care if I killed him or not.

“The team is four and a half minutes away,” Jack said. “Hang in there, Riley.”

I wasn’t going to make four minutes. I doubted I’d even make two. The burning was getting worse and my hand was begi

“Cass,” I yelled, my voice hoarse and scratchy. “I need help here.”

There was no immediate response, and I can’t really say I blamed her.

“Cass,” I screamed. “The men are down, Directorate reinforcements are almost here, and I’ve been shot. I really, really need your help.”

“They’re three minutes away,” Jack said into my ear.

Really? I thought, a little dazedly. Cole was really pushing the speed limits.

The numbness was begi

Strength flooded me—a strength that was love and warmth and everything that was still right with my world. It battered the numbness away from my neck, allowing me to breathe a little easier. It didn’t erase it—it couldn’t erase it—just subverted it, sending it down toward my legs rather than into my chest and throat. It bought me time, and I needed that desperately.

You will not die, Riley, Qui

No, I thought weakly. Don’t. I’ll be fine.

And even as I said it, I knew he’d ignore me. And part of me was mighty glad of that fact.

After a few more precious seconds, footsteps echoed on the stairs, heading down.

“Riley?” Cass’s voice was tentative, as if she were ready to flee given the slightest provocation.

“Here,” I croaked.

Her head appeared in my line of sight, but it was fuzzy. Or maybe it was just my eyesight that was fuzzy. Her gaze widened when she saw me, and her face went white.

“Oh god,” she said, one hand over her mouth.

“Yeah,” I said. “He was using silver bullets. I need you to take it out.”

“Two minutes,” Jack intoned. “Hang on.”

Cass drew in a shuddering breath and said “I can’t—”

“You can,” I interrupted harshly. “You must.”

I put the gun down on the floor. My hand was shaking far too hard now for it to be safe.

She made a distressed sound low in her throat, then took another breath. “I’ll get Marla. She’s better at—”

“No. You need to do it. Now.”

“But I haven’t got any tools—”

“You have hands, Cass. Just hook a finger into the wound and dig it out.”

“Oh, fuck.” But she dropped down beside me and a hand touched my shoulder. Her fingers were shaking almost as much as mine.

Find something to bite down onto, Qui

I groped for some wood then shoved it in my mouth as she took another deep breath. “Okay.”

That was all the warning I got. She plunged her finger into the wound and a scream wrenched its way up my throat. Everything went red and the sweat on my brow became a river.

Cass was crying and shaking, but she didn’t stop. Blood spilled from the wound and pain seemed to consume my world. It was all I could do to stay conscious. Heaven help the lot of us if one of those men became aware enough to attack now.

Then the bullet moved. Sideways, not upward. Not out. White-hot fingers of pain rolled through me, and I bit down on the wood so hard splinters drove into my tongue.

Cass swore bitterly and drove her finger a little deeper. The bullet moved again, but this time it came up, making a slight popping sound as it came free of my flesh.

The relief was almost instantaneous. I leaned my head back against the wall for several heartbeats, drawing in great gulps of air, feeling the fire wash away and hoping like hell the numbness did, as well.

“Thank you,” I said eventually, and opened my eyes. Her eyes were puffy, her nose pinched and red, and she was as pale as possible for a dark-ski

“And you saved T.J.’s and ours. A fair swap, I think.”

“Yeah.” I raised a still-shaky hand and wiped the sweat from my eyes. “But I think he shot some of the girls and the man-mountain guarding the stairs.”

More tears spilled from her eyes. She scrubbed at them hastily, then spun around at the sound of footsteps, her fear ramping up several notches.

“Riley?” Cole’s voice, harsh and urgent.

We were safe.

I could let go.

Once I’d shifted shape to stop the bleeding and heal my broken rib, that’s exactly what I did.

W hen I came to, it was to find myself in warm, familiar arms. They were wrapped around me, holding me steady, pressing me against a body that was hard and strong.

“Hmmm,” I murmured, snuggling in a bit deeper. “This is how a girl should wake from every nightmare.”

Qui

“Love to.” I opened my eyes and blinked at the unexpected harshness of the light. We were obviously no longer inside the shadowy confines of the brothel. “The problem is the bad guys. They seem intent on using the stuff.”

“Well, you’ll just have to learn to avoid them better.”

I snorted softly and sat a little. Qui

“Then maybe we need to change your job.”

I glanced at him and saw the seriousness in his expression, the little lines of tension and worry around his eyes. I raised a hand and caressed the strong, beautiful planes of his face. “Maybe.”

He smiled and kissed my fingertips. “The wolf still enjoys the hunt. When she doesn’t, let me know.”

“I will.” I leaned forward and kissed him, slowly and sweetly.

The ringing of the phone interrupted us. “That will be your brother again,” Qui

“Such sarcasm from the man who came ru

He shrugged and handed me his cell phone. “I’m more co

“Really? How?” I said, then pressed the answer button and added, “Rhoan, I’m fine. Really.”

“So Qui

“I got shot with silver.” I flexed my left hand as I said it. I had full motion back, but there was a definite lack of sensation coming from my fingertips. What was it about my left limb that bad guys seemed to hate? First I’d lost a finger, then I’d lost a chunk of skin, and now it looked like I might lose sensation. That would totally suck—but I guess if it was going to happen, then better my left hand than my right, given I was right-handed.