Play of Passion (Psy-Changeling 9)

The two other wolves who’d shifted had stayed behind, and Andrew saw one of them dart out and take down another Psy soldier when the man lowered his guard. A shot rang out and the wolf disappeared back into the trees, but the Psy male was already dead or dying, his throat so much meat.

Good. One less enemy to worry about.

As Andrew shimmied forward on his belly, having crept up behind another Psy attacker, he scented D’Arn’s nose start to run. The mental assaults were beginning to get through. Seeing that his prey had moved far enough away from the main group to be vulnerable, Andrew bunched his muscles, ready to take him out. But then he noticed the man in the center. He was shooting, but only enough to cover himself, most of his attention seeming to be on looking at Hawke . . . as if he was sending through a visual transmission.

Andrew realized what was about to happen a fraction of a second before another Psy teleported in directly in front of his alpha. Even Hawke’s superhuman speed couldn’t have avoided a bullet at that range. But Andrew had jumped toward Hawke in the split second between realization and the appearance of the assassin.

The bullet felt like a f**king anvil thrust into his abdomen, bloodying his fur and sending him crashing into Hawke and the others. His alpha went down, but didn’t stay in place, rolling with Andrew to take up a more secure position behind a tree, Riaz and D’Arn doing the same on the other side. “Stay with me, Drew,” Hawke ordered, putting pressure on Andrew’s gushing wound. “If you die, Indigo will f**king skin me.”

Andrew, his body starting to shut down, kept his eyes open long enough to see the Psy fall. They’d left themselves too open in focusing on their charge toward Hawke and now had no cover. Riaz took down two, D’Arn another. Two of the Psy managed to teleport out. That left three. Keeping pressure on Andrew’s wound with his knee, Hawke steadied his arms and took aim. He shot the closest Psy operative in the kneecaps. As the target collapsed, Hawke took aim at the man next to the fallen Psy, his mouth grim, blood streaking his chest from Andrew’s wounds.

But before Hawke could shoot, the second man turned his gun on his colleague and drilled a bullet through the injured male’s skull. Hawke’s bullet took him out a second later. The last man fell to a shot from Riaz.

Silence.

Indigo, Andrew thought as his chest spasmed, as blood began to pour out of his mouth, where was Indigo?

A rush of scent an instant later, of windstorms cut by steel.

His soul sighed in peace. His eyes closed.

Indigo felt her heart stop. “No, no!” Falling beside the severely injured wolf, she replaced Hawke’s hands with her own.

“Judd,” Hawke said, his gaze icy with control. “He can fix—”

“He wasn’t just sleeping when we left—he was unconscious,” Indigo said, throwing Hawke her new sat phone. “See if he’s awake.”

Hawke made the call, and she knew from his bleak expression that Judd remained unconscious. His powers to use telekinesis on the cell level, literally putting shattered bodies back together, would take time to regenerate after his recent trip.

Time Drew didn’t have.

“Lara,” Indigo said, determined not to lose this wolf who’d chased, charmed, and played his way into her heart. “We need to get him to Lara.”

Hawke didn’t bother to tell her that Drew was too badly injured, that they’d never be able to get him down to the den in time. He simply slipped his arms beneath the heavy body of the wolf and said, “Hold him here.”

Hold him here.

Her wolf didn’t hesitate. It dropped even its innermost barriers, and Indigo’s heart, her soul went wide open. For an instant, nothing happened, and she wanted to keen in agony. It wasn’t fair. He was hers! A mate could hold her other half to life, could will him to live.

Then untrammeled power slammed into her with such force that she went to her knees, her mind crashing with pain that wasn’t hers as the mating bond snapped into place. “I’ve got him,” she said, holding on to Drew’s fading spirit with steely hands. “I’ve got you, Drew. Don’t you dare make me fall in love with you and then leave. I’ll hunt you down in the afterlife if I have to.”

Hawke was already moving. And, somehow, she was walking beside him.

Riaz, she belatedly realized, had one muscular arm around her waist, was almost carrying her. “You just hold him,” the lieutenant whispered in her ear, his voice harsh. “Hold him, Indigo.”

She’d have nodded, but she didn’t have the energy. It was taking everything she had to keep pushing her will, her anger, her fear, into the mating bond. She wasn’t Psy, couldn’t see the bond. But she could feel it, could almost touch it. And she knew when it flickered. So she poured more of her energy, her strength into it. She refused to allow herself to think of anything but success.

Of course it would work. Of course Drew would awaken to torment her again. Of course he wouldn’t leave her. Please, Drew. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud, but she knew when Lara ran out of the trees close to the den, her healer’s heart having felt the tug of hurt.

“Drew,” the healer said with pain shattering her voice before her expression turned practical, her shoulders going stiff. “Put him down. I’ll see if I can heal some of the damage here.”

That was the last thing Indigo was aware of hearing, her mind encasing her in a dark good-night. But she held on to Drew even then. He was hers. She would not let him go.

Lara glanced at Indigo even as she placed her hands over Drew’s injury and fed her healing power into him. “God, she’s stubborn. I’m going to have to kiss her after she wakes. She held him. She’s still holding him.”