Page 23

When Kira goes limp in my arms, I carefully adjust her, laying her out on the counter. With shaking hands, I grab the hem of the shirt, pulling it down around her thighs—but it does nothing to curb the desperate, aching animal inside me, whining and howling for her touch.

There are two sides to me right now—the wolf that doesn’t understand what’s happening, doesn’t get why I can’t have her in my lap right now— and the logical, alpha leader of the pack, who spoke with Beth the day before about what her premonitions would mean.

“It’s just too bad that we caught her so late,” Beth said, before Kira came downstairs. She was shaking her head, eyes cast toward the table. “Usually, psychics can train from a young age, learn to control their gifts better. Without that training, they can be especially painful, and even debilitating.”

Gently, I reposition the ice pack so it’s over Kira’s forehead and dig into my pocket with my other hand, finding the contact and dialing it.

“Come right away,” I say, en lieu of a greeting. “She’s having a premonition.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Beth’s voice is matter-of-fact.

Any shifter in this pack would respond to me in the same way—if I call, they’ll come, no matter the time of day—but Beth is invested in this as much as I am. It’s her chance to train another psychic in this pack. Her chance to pass down everything she knows.

Deep down, I know it’s slightly my fault that Kira hasn’t had the chance to train her gift. I did my fair share of making sure nobody believed her when she said it was happening, and after what happened the night my grandfather died, there wasn’t a soul in this pack that would believe a word out of her mouth.

I lean over her, whispering encouraging words into her ear, running my hand down her arm, until there’s a gentle knock at the front door.

“Come in!”

A moment later, Beth is there, and the moment her hand touches Kira’s forehead, Kira’s eyelids flutter open, locking onto the older woman’s gaze. My instincts tell me not to leave my mate alone with anyone, but I have to trust Beth for a moment, so I do, darting up the stairs and returning with a pair of Ash’s sweatpants a moment later.

“Beth,” Kira manages, her eyes locked on the older woman as I pull the pants over her legs, covering her better. Maybe the old woman doesn’t care, but the protective mate inside me doesn’t want anyone—even an old woman—seeing my mate like this.

“Take a deep breath,” Beth says, helping Kira to a sitting position. “Remember the things we talked about.”

“Okay.”

Hearing the rasp in Kira’s voice, I turn to the cabinet, take out a glass, and fill it with water before holding it out to her. She tries to take it, but her hand is shaking too much, so I hold it up to her lips, something warming inside me as I watch her drink greedily.

For the next half an hour, Beth stands in front of Kira, coaching her through the process, murmuring encouragement, and instructing her to stay conscious, hold on to the words.

I watch in amazement.

Maybe the reason Kira’s premonitions were always fragmented, in pieces and without context, is because she never learned to receive them this way. Whole.

Finally, still with her eyes closed, she says, “There’s a little boy. And water—I can hear it. The sound of him laughing, playing, maybe scooping up dirt? Then his little feet on the ground, walking, and getting faster. Running.”

“Good,” Beth says, voice low, “follow it through. Keep listening.”

“Splashing,” Kira reaches out, her hand tightening on my arm, her nails digging in as her face twists up in pain. “He’s crying for help, but I can’t hear anyone else. Oh, Gods, I think he’s all alone—I think he’s going to drown—”

“Now, focus, Kira,” Beth says, “ feel the sounds. Tell me, are these sounds from spirits?”

Kira pauses, then shakes her head. “No. This is hazy, unclear. Like a future yet to happen, I think.”

“Sir,” Beth says, her eyes meeting mine in a panic. “If you know of any families living here, near the lake, with a young boy—”

Of course I do. I know every family in this pack, and I can instantly imagine the Tinnings, in their little cabin by the lake. And the mom—what was her name?—I’m pretty sure she had twins about a year ago. Twins that would, just now, be old enough to walk, get away from the cabin, and toward the water.

“Can you hear anything else?” Beth asks, turning back to Kira as I reach for my phone, pulling it from my pocket, dialing Emin.

“No,” Kira chokes, tears running down her face as she shakes her head. “It’s quiet now—just the sound of the water, lapping gently.”

“Really feel the bounds of the premonition, darling,” Beth says, taking both of Kira’s hands in hers. “Can you tell me when —in seconds, minutes, hours—”

“ No ,” Kira sounds really distressed now, and something inside me wants to snap at Beth to get away from her, even though I know she’s only helping, teaching her to get through this process. “No, I’m sorry—I can’t—”

“Emin?”

As much as I don’t want to, I step away from Kira as she starts to cry so I can hear Emin on the other end of the line.

“Is that Kira?” he asks, alert and on edge. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I need you to go out to the Tinnings. Check on their little boy—go straight to the lake. Call me when you get there and have sights on the kid.”

“Dorian, is Kira crying—?”

“She’s having a premonition. Beth is here to talk her through it. Emin, I need you to focus your ass and get over there, now .”

“Got it.”

The line goes dead, and I can tell he’s hungry for more information about Kira, but he’s just going to have to wait to get it. When I walk back into the kitchen, Kira is slumped into Beth, crying.

“We need to calm her down,” Beth says, turning to me. “Her nervous system is overloaded with the experience. Do you have a bath?”

“Upstairs.”

“Get her into it, keep the cool compress on her head, her neck. Just keep with her until she calms down.”

Beth moves to the side as I scoop Kira into my arms, holding her to my chest.

“Thank you,” I say, pausing. “I’ll call you if we need anything else.”

“Happy to help,” Beth says, grabbing her jacket from the back of the door. Kira has her face buried in my chest, but Beth leans over anyway, speaking to her softly. “You did a wonderful job, Kira. You’re a very fast learner.”

The door shuts behind Beth just as I’m climbing the stairs with Kira in my arms. I step into the main bathroom, and when she can’t stay on her feet, I hold her in one arm as I undress her. It’s not easy, but she’s clinging to me, and I don’t have the heart to put her down.

Finally, after her bath is run, she stands on shaking feet and I help her step into the tub. It’s plain, hot water, and I make a note to ask Ash about what kind of shit girls like in their baths—I know Ash has a line of vials, soaps, oils, and salts she puts in to scent her water and “relax.”

The steam rises up from the water and I wet a washcloth, soaping it and running it over Kira’s body. She hums slightly, under her breath, a tune I can’t make out, her head lolling slightly.

I should have asked Beth for more instructions—will Kira need to eat? Should I watch for anything? A year ago Emin got a concussion, and it was imperative that I not let him go to sleep until they were able to scan and make sure there was no additional brain bleeding.

As I look at her, lift her arms and wash beneath them, I wonder about the toll these premonitions might take on her body, how they’ll affect her in the long-term.

After the bath, I drain the water, lift her out, and dry her off. She falls asleep on her feet several times, but I have my hand on her, steadying her.

Fifteen minutes later, I have her in my arms, in my bed, when I get the call from Emin, whose voice is serious and impressed.

“Got there right as the kid hit the water,” Emin says, breathless and shocked. “I can’t believe … does this mean…?”

“Yeah,” I glance down at the top of Kira’s head, where she’s nuzzled against my chest, breathing steadily. “It does. Maybe I didn’t make it clear during the last meeting, but make sure everyone in this pack knows that nobody is to question her abilities from here on out, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Emin says, a rare show of formal language from him. He still sounds shocked. After all this time, he still believed Kira was lying about her abilities, and here she is, having saved that little boy’s life.

When I get off the phone with him, I ignore the aching in my gut and slide down into the bed, pulling her body firmly against mine.

I’m thrumming with need, but I’ll wait until she wakes up, let her sleep this off. The way she moans lightly in her sleep, nuzzling into me again, tells me she’s already thinking about it, too.