Thursday, March 17, 2016

Hunted – 57

As Maximus died, Brice and Faolán shifted and collapsed, their chests heaving as they tried to regain both breath and composure.

Eventually Brice sat up, looked down at Faolán, and growled softly.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t have the energy.”

“I’m thinking we need to get you to a hospital,” Brice replied tersely.

“Says the man who looks like he’s been run through a meat grinder.”

“You both do,” Logan told them as he appeared beside them. “Damn, I missed the party.”

Brice smiled tightly without taking his eyes off of Faolán. “Trust me it was no party.” He gently stroked Faolán’s cheek while he tried to ascertain just how badly his lover had been hurt. There were puncture wounds in his throat, although none had hit the arteries. His shoulder looked mangled, blood still seeping from it, as it was from all the other damaged places.  

“He’ll heal, Brice, you both will. You just need to sleep and your bodies will restore themselves to perfect health,” Logan said.

“I know, but…” Brice seemed unconvinced that it would really happen.

“Did you get lost?” Faolán asked Logan in an attempt to derail Brice’s worries.

“Let’s just say, when I got to Brice’s new house and realized none of you was there, I was stymied for a while. Then it sank into my somewhat slow mind that Brice might have decided to abort the plan and try something else. Once I accepted he was just stupid enough to think the two of you could take on Maximus, I figured he might have come here.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Brice protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Yeah it did, through pure, dumb luck I suspect,.” Logan glanced over at the massive body of the dead shifter with a shudder. “He was twice the size of the two of you combined and probably three times older and more experienced. So yeah, dumb luck.”

“Skill,” Faolán retorted as he tried to sit up. Brice’s hand planted firmly on his chest stopped him. “Hey now, if you can, I can,” he protested.

“I’m not as badly wounded.”

“Yeah, you are,” Logan told him. “Less places but that shoulder… If you were human, not dual natured, I’d have taken you to a hospital and you’d be under the knife by now.”

“I’m fine,” Brice protested. “It was just a bite.” Then he looked down at the damage and paled. “Well…maybe somewhat more than that.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Somewhat,” he mimicked as he took hold of Brice’s other arm and then Faolán’s.

Seconds later they were in the living room of the condo. Logan quickly went into Brice’s bedroom, pulled back the bed covers then helped both of his friends to the room and onto the bed. “You’ll need new sheets come tomorrow,” he declared with a small grimace. “For now, sleep.”

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