Kingston infused his voice with the growl of his beast, taking on the unmistakable edge of an alpha issuing a command. “Look at me, Sunday. That’s it. Good girl.”
“K-Kingston?” Her brows knit together in a mix of pain and confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Call on your wolf.”
“C-can’t,” she whispered.
Panic laced his features, and he shook her, causing her head to loll. “Yes you can. You can do this. She’s in there waiting for you to let her free. Here, let me help you draw her out.”
Sunday swallowed, trying to keep her eyes open. “How?”
“Wolves respond to their mate.”
“Not... my mate.”
It was a struggle for her to talk through the pain, and even more of one for me to stand by and watch it. I was a hairsbreadth from flinging the wolf away from her, but if there was any truth to his words, he might be the only one who could save her.
Kingston’s expression shuttered for a second, but he kept his voice low and even as he asked her, “Do you trust me?”
“No,” she croaked.
The ghost of a smile flitted over his mouth. “Do you at least trust that I’m not trying to hurt you worse than you already are?”
“Yes.”
That one word broke something in me. She knew he could help her where I couldn’t.
“Okay,” he breathed, his eyes glowing amber as he began to partially shift.
It was impossible to understand what was happening because, from the outside, all I could see was Kingston stroking her hair and staring intently into her eyes. Their breaths mingled and seemed to align so when he exhaled, she inhaled, drawing it in.
As I watched, the flow of blood slowed. I released a shuddering breath, staring at the knife wound intently, willing it to close. But it didn’t. Whatever Kingston was doing, it wasn’t enough.
Sunday’s eyelids drooped once more.
“No. Stay with me, Sunshine,” Kingston pleaded.
I had to do something. She was mine, and there was no way she could leave me. I hadn’t given her permission. “Get out of the way,” I snarled, fangs already tearing through the skin on my wrist.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“Saving her life.” Holding my dripping wrist above her lips, I held my breath as the crimson drops splashed down. “Drink, little wolf.”
Her eyes were barely more than creases as she peered up at me. “No.”
“You don’t have a choice, dove.”
Her tongue darted out, and my body couldn’t help but respond to the sight of her tasting me. The rush of desire, inappropriate and undeniable, had my cock thick behind my fly in an instant.
“That’s it,” I whispered, pressing my wrist against her mouth. “Drink up.”
A firm hand gripped my arm and tore me away from Sunday, causing a harsh growl to escape my chest in response. Who the fuck had the gall to interrupt me when I was in the middle of something so vital?
“Thorne, stop!”
Eyes wide as panic ricocheted through me, I backed away, hands shaking. Father Gallagher scooped Sunday into his arms, shooting me a reproachful look.
“You do realize you’ve done something you can’t take back.” His gaze rooted me to the spot as his focus drifted to my mouth, where I still tasted her blood on my lips. “What in God’s name have you done?”
Oh, fuck, we’d exchanged blood. Not much, but enough. WhathadI done?
If I had room left to feel anything else, I might have been surprised to see the good priest here, but all I could manage was a wary reply.
“What I had to.”