Page 156 of Shifter Situations

“I fucking do,” I muttered.

And then I contemplated strangling my vampire and my druid for trying to find any humor in the situation.

Mild strangulation; nothing too severe.

“We know, Love.”

Palmer’s pained voice tugged at my heartstrings as he sat up. He swatted my hands away when I tried to help him, but then he grinned at me again, stronger and brighter than before. Relief flooded through me as the color returned to his skin.

“Be creative with the vampire, Love,” he remarked quietly, exhausted. “He’d like being choked, and then ye’d be frustrated all over again.”

“That’s true,” Novak commented, nodding. “I would, but I wouldn’t leave you frustrated for too long.”

“Fine,” I acquiesced, narrowing my eyes at him. “You can go without sex for an undetermined amount of time, and York can be strangled.”

My druid cocked his head, widening his eyes as he searched my face for an explanation. “Why am I getting strangled?”

“It’s mild,” I divulged. “Nothing life-threatening.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

I huffed in mock annoyance, but I was thankful they weren’t mentioning what a wreck I was right now.

“I was upset, and I may have briefly thought about wrapping my hands around both of your necks for making a joke…”

I tilted my head to the left, grimacing playfully. “But in a kind, considerate way.”

Palmer gripped my hand, chuckling lightly before coughing again.

“Love, can ye at least pass me my boxers, or was there a reason for keepin’ me naked? Sitting in the grass on my bare arse isn’t my idea of a fun time.”

“Why are you naked?” Vaughn asked.

“I didn’t want my clothes to burn. I finally figured out how to repel blood.”

“So, your skin is okay, just not your khakis. Got it,” York smarted.

My mage pointed a shaking finger at my druid. “Don’t touch my fuckin’ kex.”

I sighed, releasing some of the pent-up emotions that I wasn’t used to carrying. Palmer needed help to recuperate faster, and I couldn’t give him any more at the moment. I called out to Cronus mentally.

The hounds rounded the corner with Pete a tail’s length behind them. The pedmar stopped, inspecting Palmer and me closely.

“Hurt,” filtered through my mind, the voice deeper than any I’d ever heard. The familiar essence definitely belonged to Pete, but he’d never spoken to me with words before.

“You’re hurt, Pete?” I questioned him carefully.

He shook his head, his trunk flying to the left as his ears flopped. He padded to me, eating up the distance in two steps. Using his trunk, he gently tapped my chest before swinging his attention to Palmer.

Cronus stretched out in the grass so that my mage didn’t have too far to reach. Palmer stroked his fingers over the hellhound’s ears, following the umber lines in his black fur. The soft contact was all Cronus needed to slowly begin seeping power into Palmer's skin.

My legs wobbled as I stood, intent on moving closer to Pete. I rubbed my hand over the underneath of the pedmar’s neck and across his chest, wondering if he could speak or if I’d imagined the voice.

Briggs had walked back to the patio to grab Palmer’s clothes and was a few feet away when his cell phone started ringing. He pulled his phone out, shaking his head as he fished around in my mage’s pockets.

“Answer it,” Palmer urged when my wolf showed him the screen. “Hurry. She never calls for nothin’.”

“Hel—” Briggs began, cutting himself off quickly as he furrowed his brows.