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A fter giving Mrs. O’Hare about a pint of my blood, of which she only required a few drops for the potion and the rest was burned to appease whatever forces of magic the White Witch utilized in her practices.

I did not much care for Witches, but since Jezebel’s ability seemed rooted in some kind of psychic magic, it made sense to listen to the woman.

“Here, Angel. Come on. Drink this down,” I whispered fervently, pressing a dropper into Jezebel’s mouth and rubbing her throat gently, helping her swallow the potion.

It was long and tedious work, but I would have done it for however long it took to bring my mate back to me.

“How is she?” a teary-eyed Penny asked from the doorway.

“Just finishing the last drop. Now we wait.”

“Here. Brought you some water and food,” Max said, appearing at Penny’s side.

Both had been gracious enough to loan us one of their spare bedrooms so Mrs. O’Hare could check Jezebel’s progress.

“Thank you,” I said, and took the tray, placing it on the nightstand.

I had no appetite. But my Wolf required sustenance, and worried or not, I would be useless to Jezebel if I allowed myself to weaken while she fought whatever this was the shades had done to her.

Mrs. O’Hare was on a call with the Morrigan herself, trying to find answers. Sherry Morgan McAllister was mated to the Beta of the Macconwood Pack. She was the most powerful White Witch of this age, and I’d already had a call in to her, so this seemed like a good time to check up on that.

Shifters were supernatural creatures, but we did not practice magic in the sense that Witches, and apparently, Psychic Mediums, did.

And here I’d thought my pretty little mate was merely human. I should have known she was something else. Something more .

Extraordinary.

Powerful.

Perfect.

“Anything else you need?” Max asked with concern shining in the Alpha’s red-tinted gaze.

“Just need her to wake up,” I murmured, my throat sore from all the growling.

Anguish rose in me like the tide as I held her soft, pale hand. She looked so small in that bed. So fragile.

Fuck.

I couldn’t lose her. Hell. I couldn’t even imagine a world without her light shining in it.

Demon snarled. The Wolf in me disliked my despair, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. It was an awful emotion. Terrifying and paralyzing at the same time.

“Wake up, Angel. Come on,” I murmured, clasping her hand between two of mine.

I pressed my forehead to the mattress, whispering prayers to gods I long since stopped believing in. But for Jezebel I would repent. I would bargain, barter, and beg.

I would sell my fucking soul to bring her back to me.

Members of the Crew shuffled in and out, laying their hands on my shoulder and touching her leg or foot gently with fingertips. I hated that, but I knew what they were doing.

The Crew was lending their support, showing both me and Jez that they cared. They were here for the two of us.

Who knew Max would turn out to be a halfway decent Alpha, bringing us together like this? Sure, we were rough and crude. A bunch of foulmouthed monsters with atrocious manners and zero filters on our yappers.

But we were a real Crew. That meant we stuck together.

Demon growled softly, approving of the way they paid their respects to me and mine. I would return the sentiment to each of them. Max and Penny were attentive but careful not to crowd me. And I knew they gave the others the same rules.

Over the next couple of days, I refused to budge from her side, only long enough to use the bathroom and only when Mrs. O’Hare or Penny was available to sit with her.

The hours ticked by so slowly, but even then, I was never without support. It was new, that sort of unconditional back up. I didn’t know how to handle it, but I was far too busy worrying about my mate to question it.

When I came to Dry Creek, I was a broken Wolf. But I didn’t feel so broken once we became a Crew, and definitely not once I found Jezebel.

She. Was. Everything.

To me.

To Demon.

Apparently, she meant something to the Crew, too. She hadn’t spent much time with them, but because of me, they accepted her and that just about made me the humblest Shifter on the planet.

Every day, they came to check on us. Without words, they showed their unwavering fealty and loyalty.

That was sacred to people like us. Shifters like us.

Dante with his Bear’s shy manners and concerned chuffing.

Kian with his Bull’s penchant for pacing and rolling his eyes.

Even fucking Zeke with his elongated pupils and purple irises that seemed to see way more than the average Shifter.

With Max and Penny coming in every couple of hours, and Mrs. O’Hare’s constant checking, Jezebel and I were rarely alone.

“Wake up, Angel, please,” I murmured, kissing her temple and her hand, laying my head down on the freshly changed sheets.

Knowing my human wouldn’t rest until she opened her eyes, Demon forced a shift every twelfth hour or so, just to give my body a break. He curled up at the foot of the bed to make himself as small as possible.

No shades dared enter the room since everything went down. Whether that was because of the magical wards Mrs. O’Hare placed, or because of the constant snarling of my aggressive Wolf, I was not sure. Either way, I was grateful.

Please wake up.