Dana Bell: Cynful

A deep, gravelly roar sounded from right behind her, startling her. She’d never heard anything like it. She opened her eyes to see what fresh hell she was about to face and flinched as a wall of dark brown fur dashed past her. A deep, moaning wail sounded from the behemoth as it swiped at Dennis Boyd, shredding the man’s arm from hand to shoulder. Screeching, Boyd dropped the pistol…but not before pulling the trigger.

The Grizzly reared up on its hind legs and roared once more in Boyd’s face. Julian barely recognized the fact that Ryan was literally ripping Boyd apart despite Gabe’s pleas to stop.

All he saw was that Cyn was on the ground, and she was bleeding.

It didn’t matter that he was naked, that he’d never completed the shift. Her blood poured out from her chest and onto the ground. She was already unconscious, her eyelashes dark against her pale cheeks. He was going to take every ounce of strength he had to heal her, and it might not be enough.

If her soul fled her body, he would follow.

Julian dug deep, tapping into areas he’d never dared touch before, dancing further down the spiral of the healing path than he’d ever been. What he was doing should have been impossible, and would most likely cost him his life, but it was something that he would gladly give up to save her. Ancient prayers repeated over and over in his mind as he begged for the power to do what needed to be done. He battled death itself, and this time there was no one there to lend him strength, no one to save him from himself.

Beneath his hands torn muscles knit back together. Blood vessels repaired themselves seamlessly. The fragments of her shattered ribs drew together, whole once more. The bullet had been large caliber, bouncing around inside her rib cage before exiting and doing far more damage than he’d ever been forced to fix before. Her heart was nicked, forcing it to beat erratically. He mended the damage, making sure it beat properly once more. He moved next to her lungs, doing his best to be clinical and detached, and failing miserably. He wanted to scream at what had been done to his beautiful mate.

The damage was extensive. Cyn’s right lung was practically torn in half. He knitted it back together piece by piece, repairing torn and inflamed bronchi. The pleural cavity had been breached, causing the fluid within to burst forth. He delicately repaired both the parietal pleura along her rib cage and the visceral pleura on the surface of her lungs, rerouting the pleural fluid in between the membranes back to where it belonged as he went.

He was beginning to tire, slowly losing contact with his body. He wasn’t going to survive.

“Julian.”

There was a minor risk of infection, but he boosted her immune system in preparation for that.

“Julian. You need to stop now.”

But he wasn’t done yet. He needed to repair the damage to the bones and muscles of her shoulder where the bullet had exited. If he wasn’t careful, she would never again be able to use her right arm the way she had before. Her career, the living art she lived and breathed for, would be over.

“All right. I’ll try and help, but if I cry I’m so haunting your ass.”

Energy poured into him, feminine energy that was unlike anything he’d felt before. “Chloe?”

“That’s me. Hang tight, Julian. I promise, you’re not going anywhere.”

It was just enough. He was going to be able to complete his work. He’d hurt, and hurt badly, but thanks to Chloe and their connection he’d live through it.

He’d just have to see if he’d live through what Cyn would do to him when she found out how far he’d gone. She wouldn’t be too mad, right?

“You keep telling yourself that.”

From somewhere far away he could hear the sounds of someone pleading with him to stop, but that was the last thing he planned to do. He was almost done. Her shoulder was almost completely repaired. All that was left to do was to repair the skin, make sure that not a single scar was left behind.

The only mark that should mar her skin was the mating one he’d given her.

“Jules.”

Cyn’s bleeding had become sluggish, almost nonexistent. No internal bleeding remained. Chloe withdrew with a quick, psychic hug, leaving him to his weariness and the last of Cyn’s scrapes and bruises.

“Knock it off, Super Bear. I think I can put a Band-Aid on the rest of it.”

Part of him recognized that voice, but he couldn’t respond to it. It had gone dark where he was. He could no longer remember which way was up and out, and which way was down and in. The flesh between his hands was still knitting; he needed to hold on just a little bit longer.

He was going to sleep for a week when he was done.

“Gabe, knock his ass out.”

What? No—

Cyn was going to kill him.

Okay, maybe not kill him. He was so good at trying to die all on his own. He certainly didn’t need any help on that front.

“Thanks.” Cyn took the spare clothes and, uncaring who saw, changed out of the shredded, bloody shirt she’d been wearing into the T-shirt.

“You’re welcome.” Sarah sat next to her and held her hand. “You’re really angry.”

Damn straight, she was. He could have stopped when he knew she’d live. Instead, he’d insisted on trying to heal everything down to the smallest scratch.

“Gabe risks his life every day, and not just as a Hunter. He’s Marshall’s Second, and a cop. I worry every time he walks out the door that it will be the last time I see him.”

Oh hell. Another Dr. Phil moment was coming on. Cyn could feel it. “I understand Julian’s obsession with healing. Hell, I encourage it.” She shot Sarah a wry glance. “Mostly. It’s when he pushes beyond what he should do that I want to tie him up and lock him in the closet.”

Sarah laughed softly, not wanting to disturb the members of the Pride currently sleeping. It seemed all of the Pumas had arrived at the hospital to rally around Julian, ready and willing to lend a helping hand.

Emma, the tough Curana, was currently curled up on Max’s lap, sound asleep. She looked young and innocent, and Max watched her with the same loving focus that Julian lavished on Cyn.

Becky was nibbling on some fruit Simon handed her, her eyes red-rimmed from either tears or lack of sleep. Possibly both. Simon barely looked away from his conversation with Adrian, until she stopped eating. Then he turned and frowned at her, pointing to the fruit, ignoring everything around her until she rolled her eyes and once again began to nibble.

Adrian was stroking Sheri’s hair, her head pillowed in his lap, her dark glasses protecting her sensitive eyes.

Gabe was pacing, his gaze glued to a subdued looking Ryan. Ryan was staring at his hands as if he’d never seen them before, a haunted look on his face. Occasionally he would rub them together, a washing motion that made her wince in sympathy. He wouldn’t be forgetting how he’d torn a man apart any time soon, no matter how justified he’d been. Gabe had told Cyn he wouldn’t be arresting Ryan for defending her, but he was going to keep an eye on the Grizzly to see if he showed signs of going feral.

Cyn hoped not. As much as Glory protested, she would be devastated if anything happened to Ryan.

William and Barbara Bunsun, Alex’s parents, had both gone into Julian’s room to help his healing along. They’d both come out white-faced and exhausted. She still didn’t know if they’d been able to help, but she was grateful nonetheless.

“Cynthia Reyes?”

Cyn stood as the doctor entered the room. With Jamie still out of commission, there was no longer a Pride doctor in the hospital. The very human doc smiled at Cyn and waved her over.