She felt Annika’s pain, that shocking rise of heat, a thin line of fire.
She felt Sawyer’s barely suppressed rage, Doyle’s cold control, Riley’s struggle with tears. And Bran’s utter focus.
She felt them all, crowding her, the pain, the grief, the purpose, in a tumult of emotions. She wanted to turn away from them, close off from them. Then Bran’s hand brushed hers.
“Nearly done,” he said quietly. “Nearly there. Can you hold on?”
She nodded. Tears spilled out—Riley’s tears, she realized, and felt them run down her own cheeks.
“A second time, Doyle. It won’t be as bad now. Cooler now. There now, it’s cooler, cleaner. What burns washes away, what blackens spills out in light.
“I don’t want to stop, Sasha, but I’ll need the bottle—the one you brought me when I needed it. Four drops in water for Annika, then just the bottle here for Apollo. All right?”
She did as he asked, urged the mixture on Annika. “Drink it all now. It’s the salve next, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
At Bran’s nod, she took the salve out of Bran’s box, handed it to Sawyer. “I’ll need it for Apollo when you’re done. How many drops for Apollo? I can put them in his water bowl.”
“Another four. See that he drinks it all, Riley, then coat his wounds with the salve. He’s going to sleep,” he added. “And sleeping, he’ll heal.”
He rose then, moved to Annika. “That’s good. See, already healing. Now, where else did they hurt you, darling?”
Once he’d treated her, he turned to Sasha. “And you. Let’s have a look at you.”
“Some scratches. Just scratches. It was the knife, wasn’t it? The knife you gave me.”
“I’m pleased it worked. I couldn’t be sure,” he said as he lifted her arm, began to treat the scratches running down from her shoulder.
“Sawyer has worse. But you.” She looked at Doyle. “You don’t have any wounds.”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
No, she thought, there were still secrets here.
“Riley’s are healing on their own.”
“Wounds inflicted when I’m in wolf form heal f
ast. One of the perks.” Since Apollo slept, she rose. “I know you all have questions, but I need to eat something. The change is like running a marathon at sprint speed; add on the rest, and I’m feeling a little shaky.”
“I’d say the questions, as there’ll be many, can wait until we’ve all cleaned up. Where’s the worst of it, Sawyer?” Bran asked him.
“My back.”
Riley yanked open the fridge, grabbed a jar of olives as it came first to hand. “I’m going to catch a quick shower, put some clothes on.”
By the time they’d mopped up blood, set the kitchen to rights, and Sasha got a shower of her own, she was starving herself.
She came down to find Riley and Bran putting breakfast together.
“Figured this way I can eat as it cooks.”
“Your color’s coming back.” Sasha went straight to the coffee.
“Once I filled the hole. Listen, I’m sorry. You’re peeved, and I get it, so I’m sorry.”
Sasha only nodded, and took her coffee outside.