“No.” She scowled at him.
“You’re infuriating. That’s a first aid bag. Use it.” He slammed the door. But the corners of his lips tipped up.
She watched him go. She wanted to protect him, but her magical tank was empty. The roof of the cabin blazed higher. It flickered around the chimney, near where the male witch had taken shelter when she’d startled him with her first fireball. No amount of asking had gotten his name. The witch was powerful and angry and wanted to pass off her visions as his own. His jealousy was unfounded, though. Except for today, she hadn’t been able to pull much from the well.
Her heart rate was returning to normal. She watched the clock on the dashboard. Two minutes left before she should leave Flint and his friend Oak to go back to the main road. Something popped in the back of the house, and flames raged up the side of the chimney. Emma jumped. She tilted her head sideways under the truck’s visor to get a better view of the broken front window. Something moved.
The clock turned over to five minutes. No way was she going to take off for the main road, but she couldn’t sit there anymore, either. Yes, her arms and hands ached with burns. Her skin was cracked, and it would take weeks of using her own magic to heal herself, but she couldn’t leave Flint in there.
She had enough energy for a single spell. One her dad used all the time at the lake in summer. A spell that drove her mother absolutely mad with worry, thinking her husband was dead on the lake floor each time he used it.
Emma ignored her wounds and moved back to the house. It was hotter now than when she’d left. But the wards around the door were gone. The witch who’d made them was dead. She tried to touch the doorknob but pulled her hand back from the heat. Instead, she opened it with as little magic as possible, casting her oxygen mask spell instead. She didn’t have any protection from the actual heat and fire that surrounded her.
On the far side of the room, she found Flint pulling at a large slab of stone from the side of the fireplace that had landed on Oak. Flint was using his muscles, not his magic. He glared at her for half a second. She put her hand on Flint’s neck, and his magic reached for her. She used what little they had left to lift the stone. It rose an inch, then a second, and Flint pulled Oak out from under it and helped his friend to his feet. Wrapping his arm around the tall shifter’s middle, he guided Oak to the door. The male limped and coughed as Flint helped him.
Her oxygen spell was almost spent. The three of them hobbled out together. Her spell vanished as they stumbled away from the building. Popping and cracking rang from the house. They headed for the truck.
Flint turned to Emma. “Slide into the middle.”
She glared at him and climbed over into the full-size backseat, scraping a burn on her leg as she did. Her teeth gripped the side of her cheek, keeping the pain to a minimum. “Oak needs space.”
The brown-headed male held his breath. His crushed leg had to be causing him a lot of pain. He nodded his thanks at her.
Flint rounded the truck and gingerly slid into the driver’s seat.
“You need to listen to your mate,” Oak coughed out as he pawed his way into the first aid bag in the middle of the front seat.
“Oh, I’m not his—” She glanced at Flint. There was something she wasn’t telling him.
“Agreed.” Flint shifted the truck into reverse and moved away from the house. As the flames shot upward, Emma’s stomach heated, and it wasn’t from the fire.
“If he wasn’t dead before, he’s dead now.” Oak stared out the front as they backed down the dirt driveway.
“He was gone before you put the bullets in his gut. I saw the wards drop when I took Emma out the first time.” Flint emphasized the first time. He briefly caught her eyes in the rearview mirror.
They were halfway down the rutted road when another truck came roaring up. Jack drove, with Maddox and Hudson crammed in the front. Beck poked his head out from the back seat.
An explosion happened behind them. Hudson rolled down the window. “What the hell is going on?”
“Cabin fire. Emma’s kidnapper is dead. Emma has burns. Oak too.” Flint coughed.
“And you too.” Hudson jumped out of the truck and stuck his head into Flint’s. “Right, you’re all conscious. Let’s rearrange and do some triage on the way to the shifter ward back in town.”
A few minutes later, they had Oak repositioned in the back of Jack’s truck. Jack drove while Hudson gave Oak medical attention. Flint had protested for a minute, wanting Hudson to look at Emma. Then Flint and Emma were both in the back of his truck with Beck driving. Maddox sat in the front seat. Leaning over the back, he treated the burns on Emma’s arms.
“I’m fine. Take a look at the burn on Flint’s shoulder. It looks . . .” She didn’t want to say how bad it looked. The T-shirt was burned away, and when he moved, she swore his skin . . . She looked away. Emma wasn’t squeamish normally. But seeing Flint hurt made her forget her own injuries.
Maddox glanced over at Flint. Turned completely around in the truck, on his knees, he braced himself against sliding with one hand wrapped around the head rest.
“We’ve got another twenty minutes before we get to Palmer Hospital. Let me get you fixed up first.” But Maddox tossed some sterile pads to Flint.
He held on to them but didn’t put them on any of his numerous wounds.
Emma locked Flint in a stare. How could one male simultaneously appear relieved and angry?
His right leg had a long burn down one side where his jeans were frayed. Flint stretched his leg out straight, almost but not quite touching her. Emma focused on Flint trying to ignore what Maddox was doing. But the pain shot from multiple spots, mostly her hands and arm. She closed her eyes against the pain, and before she could open them again, Flint had grabbed her hand. Emma released a breath she didn’t realize she’d held.
Flint rubbed his thumb along her knuckle ridge. She concentrated on the feeling.
“Huh, I didn’t know you were mates. Makes sense.” Maddox continued to dab a cool liquid on her shoulder closest to him.
“We’re not . . .” She flicked her eyes open and glanced at Maddox.
He cocked his head to her hand.
The skin under where Flint had his thumb no longer had any redness. That didn’t mean anything. Right? Flint must have used some magic to clear the burn from her hand. But she’d taken every last bit of power from him. Neither of them had any magical power left. Emma wouldn’t until she’d slept a long time.
She closed her eyes, and when the truck stopped, Flint gathered her in his arms. Nurses and orderlies surrounded both trucks, and too soon, Flint placed her on a stretcher.
“I don’t need a stretcher,” Flint growled as he jogged next to her. “I can walk.”
“Let them treat you.” She gripped the rail of the stretcher, and he had his hand on top of hers.
“Fine,” he growled at the orderlies trying to get him to lie on a stretcher.
Mirabel appeared next to them. “Let him walk if he wants to keep injuring himself, Emma.” They shared a smile. They were already in the emergency room. Fluorescent lights flashed by on the ceiling.
“Come with me, Flint,” a male voice said.
