Her hair consumed the pillow she lay on, and her skin lacked the rose hue of their time together at his cabin. So small and vulnerable—he wanted to smack away the rest of the world. And fight off anyone or anything that might come near her.

Emma pushed herself up and made it a few inches before she stopped squirming.

“Flint, you need to get back in bed.” Vivianne was at his side.

“I’m fine,” he snarled.

“You’re not fine. Your heart rate was sitting at 40 beats per minute for the last three days.” Mirabel pointed to the monitor.

“It’s barely up to 50 now.” Vivianne let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Looks good to me now.” He glanced over his shoulder without reading the monitor. Was he lightheaded? Sure. Was he going to pass out? Most likely not. But a tiny step forward, and he was gripping the edge of Emma’s bed rail to keep from going down.

“You don’t look good.” Emma’s lips were even redder against her pale skin.

Normally, Flint wanted to throw down a return insult. But there was nothing normal about how he felt about Emma. And that scared the crap out of him. Not only was she a witch, she was a witch that made his own damn witch-i-ness explode into fireworks. Flint growled.

And Emma flinched.

“Sorry . . .” He turned to his sister. “Have they caught the guy?”

“Caught the guy?” It took Vivianne a minute to figure out what he meant. “No, they’re still looking for who could be responsible.”

“Right.” Flint’s head did a little nod of its own. Like back in high school when Mrs. Montgomery, his Latin teacher, started talking about Plato and Aristotle.

Mirabel and Vivianne were there to catch him, but he decided on his own direction, and his head hit the pillow next to Emma’s. In the same moment, he kicked his feet up and over the rail and onto her bed.

19

Flint Larsen’s head was inches away from hers, and their magic danced between the two of them like a spaceship on a bad science fiction show going through a wormhole to another dimension. Because that’s where she was: in another dimension. Flint lay on her, out cold, like a toddler who’d drunk too much milk. Only he wasn’t cold but snuggly warm. Her body gave off a little sigh.

Reflexively, she brought her IV-tethered hand around and held onto his waist to keep him from falling off the side of the wide hospital bed. Flint, in his last minute of consciousness, had thrown his top leg over her, anchoring himself to her. And now she found herself staring at his impossibly long eyelashes.

“Goddess, Flint, you can’t pass out on top of her. You’re going to crush her.” His sister’s eyes were wide. “Flint, get up.” Flint didn’t move.

“He’s fine.” Emma whispered. “He’s not hurting me.” It was actually quite the opposite. Having his power and hers vibrate between the two of them refreshed her. Her skin tingled like she’d had a citrus scrub at one of the spas Daphne liked to take them to.

“We need to move him.” Nurse Mirabel came to the side of the bed. She repositioned his limp arm and took his vitals. “Or perhaps we don’t. His pulse is up to a nice strong 60. A perfect resting pulse for someone his age and build.”

Flint had knocked off Emma’s monitors with his dive onto her bed.

“Your turn. Your wrist, please,” said Mirabel.

Emma released Flint’s side. He didn’t move.

“Interesting, yours is up as well. A little too much, even. 72. Is he bothering you?”

“Uh, no? Not at all.”

“It’s just, well, most of us here are shifters. We’ve only semi-openly started treating your kind. We have more to learn about you all.” Mirabel glanced at Vivianne.

Vivianne cleared her throat.

“Or so I’ve been told.” Mirabel took the blanket from the bottom of Flint’s bed and put it over his legs. Then she pulled on something, and a bedrail snapped up into place. “Just in case he decides to take a walk again. She fiddled with the IV on Flint’s arm and took it out, but left the needle and connecting tube taped to his hand in place. “Where is Dr. Swan?” She glanced at the door with irritation.

“I don’t care what you say. Vivianne has been in there longer than her turn, and it’s my turn now.” Mia swung open the door. “You are awake. I heard them paging Dr. Swan. I thought maybe it might be for you.”

Vivianne walked over to the large picture window. She stepped next to the drapes and did an invisibility spell with a grace equal to Emma’s own mother. Neither the nurse nor Mia noticed.

“Emma. Oh my gosh. I’m so excited. I can’t believe you’re awake. I’m happy, oh so happy.” A tear slid down Mia’s cheek. Her long dark hair stuck out of the messy bun piled on the top of her head. She headed right to Emma, seemingly missing the giant shifter in her bed. “I’m sorry I’m crying. Thank you so much. I owe you my life. If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead.”

Emma squeezed Mia’s hand with her free one. “Mia, of course I would do anything for you.” Her natural inclination was to tell Mia she would have been fine without her. But Mia wouldn’t have been anything close to fine. And that scared the crap out of Emma. It was enough that she’d heard the nurse mention she’d been asleep for almost five days. She’d never drained her power like that before. If it had taken both her and Flint five days to regain power . . . Goddess, that had been a massive fireball that was unleashed on them. Emma likely missed a visit from the Grim Reaper by a hair. But what had happened to Flint? Why was he in a hospital bed, in her hospital bed?

Mia stared at the bandage on Emma’s hand. The shield she’d cast had cracked at her hand where she’d held off the heat. The last thing she remembered before passing out was turning to the side. The final part of the blast must have burned her hand. Emma took a shallow breath. Flint’s arm was over her waist.

Her friend must have been in shock because now she stared at Flint. “Is he okay?”

Emma turned her head, pushing her nose into Flint’s dark hair. Everything was so odd. Being in a hospital for shifters. They didn’t even have one back in her hometown in Ohio. Having stopped a fireball. Not to mention that comet of a fireball sabotaging her work.

“He’s okay,” she told Mia. Logistically, she had no idea if the firefighter was okay, but she felt it in her core. There, a part of her understood he was fine. Better than her, even if he had passed out. She decided she would wait for whomever this Dr. Swan was before she took a stroll around the hospital. If Emma face-planted, she had enough experience to know it wouldn’t be on a bed, but on the floor.

“Okay, Shiori said I could come in first, but both she and Daphne and Carter all want to come in too. Really, Carter’s the only reason why they even let me in the wing. I guess he gave the hospital a rather large donation, large enough to bend the rules on humans being here. Shiori vouched for us both. But I think Daphne might have done a little magical convincing of the hospital administrators, too. Shoot, I shouldn’t be going on and on. You should be resting.”

Emma didn’t want to rest anymore. “No. It’s fine. I feel pretty good, actually.” Better than when she’d woken up, even though she no longer had any sensation in the hand trapped under Flint.

The door opened and there was a commotion. The nurse’s voice rang clear. “Just because she’s awake doesn’t mean that you can all go in at one time. They’ve had visitors now for a while and should rest.”

“I don’t care. I’m going in.” Carter, her boss, was at her side. “What is the firefighter doing in your bed?”

Carter’s hair was longer than when she’d met him last June. And after getting to know him better, since they’d bought the school and started construction, she’d realized how much younger he was than she’d thought. When they’d met, she would have placed him in his late forties. He ran a global empire from his offices downtown. They were a far cry from a rundown school building. He owned the top twenty floors of one of the most sought-after skyscrapers in downtown Pittsburgh. He’d invited a few people working on his newest endeavor to the Christmas party at the high-rise building, and there his staff had surprised him with a birthday cake for his thirty-sixth birthday. Carter blew out the candles without scowling, but she could see he wanted to.

The group of them had met on a cruise, and while everyone else had been partying and having a good time, Carter Williams was doing business. Since then, she’d changed her opinion about him a few times. He wasn’t at all what she’d thought on first impression. Did Carter like to make money? Heck yes. But not at the expense of the people he considered friends.

“Listen, I understand proximity to him is making you both heal faster, but that’s a bit much.” Mr. Williams almost smiled.

“He’s asleep, it’s fine.” Emma clutched Flint’s side under the blanket like a child who was afraid their favorite stuffed animal was going to be snagged away. They were making each other heal faster . . . Emma tucked that little factoid away.

The door opened again, and her two best friends, the two people she shared her magical power with, came into the room. Daphne had her normal easy smile. It was the first time Emma had seen her without her baby and toddler in a while.

“We are not doing this. Say hello and out you go,” Mirabel gritted through her teeth.

“Are you okay?” Daphne flung herself at the bed but stopped a second before contacting Flint’s arm.

Emma nodded.

Daphne pursed her lips and whispered, “Why is he lying on top of you?” She might have whispered, but her tone crescendoed.

Shiori stood behind Daphne. She gave a little wave to Emma. “Daff, give Emma some space.”