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Fáelán glanced over his shoulder, staring at Gwyn intently, his hazel eyes glistening. "Very interesting. I believe a thank you is in order for saving our guardian and brother. " He returned to inspecting the wounds as he moved around the cot.

With a quick sweep of one hand, he motioned for her to move to where he had just been standing. "I will need your help to heal your sister—as much as possible anyway—if she is going to have a chance."

Gwyn nodded but didn't speak, her eyes filling with tears. Without hesitation, she leaned over and placed one hand on her sister's shoulder, her skin cool. She held out the other to Fáelán. He put his heavy paw against her palm and laid his other paw over Morgan's bare shoulder, avoiding the deep laceration across the front of her torso, which had cut down to the bone.

Torin merely listened as she repeated the healing chant several times before Fáelán joined in, their voices blending in a tranquil melody. A cleansing peace stole through the quiet room and settled inside his heart.

Without thinking, he moved close behind her and placed his hands on either side of Gwyn's neck, covering the curve where her soft skin sloped down to her shoulders. Instantly, the pale white light around her sister's prone body brightened. Gwyn's voice grew both in strength and in power.

As with the dog, the healing was slow, but Morgan's torn muscles knitted together, followed by her skin. The angry red welts diminished in size until they were thin lines. Morgan stirred as the marks faded to pale pink.

Torin stared at the woman's abdomen in wonder. He had never seen anything like this. Not even Fáelán's druid father, Jodoc, had been able to heal like this.

Morgan's eyelids fluttered and then crept open, but her pupils remained unfocused. After about a minute of staring at the wall behind him, she blinked, her eyes traveling up to her sister's face. "Gwynnie," she croaked in a hoarse voice. "Stop. You need to stop."

Gwyn's voice lowered to a whisper. She finished the chant and thanked Morrigan for her help. She dropped Fáelán's paw and knelt beside the cot, staring into her twin's pale face, cupping her cheek in the palm of her hand.

"Gods, but I hurt. Everywhere." Morgan groaned. Fáelán crossed over to a tall corner cabinet and opened the upper door, where he rummaged through his many bottles of potions and poultices.

"Do you have any aspirin? Ibuprofen? Maybe hard liquor?" Morgan asked him. "I can sip it through a straw if necessary."

Gwyn gave her sister a shaky smile and leaned forward, kissing Morgan's cheek. If she was joking, she would be fine. "You may be my big sister by only a few minutes, but don't ever scare me like that again,” Gwyn whispered. "Never, do you hear me?"

Gwyn rose as Fáelán leaned over in front of Morgan. "Hello, my dear. My name is Fáelán."

Small furrows of skin appeared between Morgan's shapely brows as she stared at him. "You're not the same uh…person as before." Her frown deepened. "Or were there two? I can't seem to remember exactly. It's all a bit fuzzy." Her gaze met his. "Am I hallucinating?"

He shook his head. "No, my dear. I'm afraid you are not. The black wolf 's name is Makari. Your memory will clear up with a good rest. Your body, however, still has some healing to do. I may have just the thing to help with the pain." He stood and unstoppered one of the bottles. "This will feel a bit warm but will numb your nerves."

He leaned back and smiled. "It's my personal favorite." He poured the oil over the pink lines dissecting her front and, in a very clinical manner, used the pads of his paws to rub it in, careful to keep his razor-sharp claws away from her skin.

Morgan sighed and closed her eyes. "That feels heavenly. The pain's already gone. You need to market that stuff. You'd make a fortune."

"Hmm. I never considered that. Could be a good revenue stream." He stoppered the dark green bottle and placed it back on the cabinet shelf before wiping his paws on a clean towel. Grabbing a folded sheet, he shook it out and gently laid it over Morgan. “Now, rest while I see my other patient."

Morgan twisted her head around, glancing at her sister, her gaze moving up and down her body. "Someone else was hurt? It had better not have been you, Gwyn."

Gwyn tucked Morgan's black hair behind one ear. "I'm fine. Promise. One of the huskies was hurt, but I healed him."

Her sister laid her head back down and closed her eyes. "You shouldn't have healed both of us, and you know it. It's not safe for you..." Her voice trailed off as she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Torin rubbed the back of Gwyn’s neck and led her to where the husky sat on the bed, his tail wagging as Fáelán talked to him and examined the dog's newly healed abdomen. Fáelán scratched the back of the dog's ears and chuckled. "He's pleased you healed him, Gwyn, and wants to know when you will take him home."

The gray wolf glanced up at her from his squatted position. "Torin, grab the green bottle again." Torin handed it to him, and he rubbed it over the dog's abdomen, gaining a slobbery lick of thanks from the husky.

Gwyn frowned. "He doesn't have a home yet."

Fáelán stood and grinned at her. "He told me he and his brother live with you now."

Her eyes widened. "You can't be serious? We find homes for abused and abandoned animals. We don't keep them."

He shrugged. "Seems like you and your sister have been adopted this time."

"Is it safe for visitors yet?" Makari and the other husky patiently stood just outside the entrance. At Fáelán's nod, Makari's gaze dropped to the dog, who stared up at him, panting. "Go see your brother." With his tail wagging nonstop, the pup gave a slight cough and jumped up on the small cot, licking and rubbing his brother's face.

Torin glanced down at Gwyn and noticed for the first time how pale she was. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes, and she looked ready to drop from exhaustion. "Before you have another patient to tend to, I'm taking Gwyn to the sitting room for something to eat and rest." Without waiting for a response, he placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her from the room.

After settling her on the dark brown leather sofa in the front room, the massive fireplace in front of them, he made her a quick sandwich in the adjoining kitchen area.

He grabbed a small bottle of pop from the refrigerator and sat beside her, handing her the plate. He balanced the drink on his leg, his hand wrapped around the bottle’s neck, while she ate, her gaze never leaving the fire.

She reached for the bottle and took several swallows before clearing her throat. "Thank you, Torin. For everything you and your—family—did tonight."

He smiled at her slight hesitation when she said ‘family’ but understood. Only a few people knew about his brothers, but their reaction had been the same—disbelief that usually led to a slow acceptance. A few, of course, never accepted them.

"What happened to them?" She turned her green gaze to his. "Why are they like that?"

Torin stared into the orange flames, reluctantly letting his thoughts turn back to a time he never allowed himself to think about. It brought up too many horrid memories...and so much pain.

He could still see his younger siblings running through the field, yelling for their father when the house was attacked. His mother had just taken his newborn sister inside to put her down for the night. He had been forced to watch the Dark Fae's men brutalize and rape her before throwing the tiny body of his sister down the well. The soft touch of her hand on his arm pulled him back to the present.

He cleared his throat. “Centuries ago, when magical races still walked among us, a Fae named Fer-Diorich struck a deal with the king of the Unseelie Court to learn dark magic. He used the Wild Hunt to round up certain clans throughout Europe. These clans could be traced back to one ancestor. A lord from Tír na nOg who had the power of transmutation. Many of these clans were wiped out from the Fae's cruel experiments."

Her gaze moved back to the fire. "What did he want?"

"An army of creatures so powerful, no one would be able to stand in his way. He wanted revenge against another Fae who'd dared to interfere with his plans."

"He used the clans to create the werewolves, didn't he?" she whispered.

"He did."

"How many of you are left?" She shivered, even with the heat from the fire filling the room.

He pulled her close, rubbing her upper arm and shoulder with his hand. She lowered her head to his shoulder, and he couldn't help but notice how perfectly her body fit against his. "As far as we know, only five of us are left. Fáelán and Kilian are brothers by birth. Makari's father was Slavik from Eastern Gaul, his mother Celtic. He returned with me from the Crusades and had just left to go to his own home a few days earlier when they captured him. Rafael's clan was from Spain where the Inquisition was used as an excuse to round up specific clans. Then, I was taken. Like I already told you, my home was in northern Ireland. I never saw my family again."

She frowned. "The Crusades? Seriously? That makes you..." Her eyes widened. "You were serious earlier. You're like...oh my gods, but you're almost a thousand years old!" Her voice squeaked. "What are you? Immortal?"

He gave her a wry, lopsided grin and shrugged. "We've yet to determine what I or the others actually are. But yes, it does seem we can now live lengthy lives."

She laid her hand over his clenched fist, and he forced his fingers to relax. Turning his hand over, he let her fingers slide through his. "I'm so sorry, Torin," she whispered. "I know what it's like to lose everyone you love. I would be devastated if something were to happen to Morgan."

"It was a long time ago."

"Why don't the others change back like you did?"

Torin closed his eyes as guilt flooded through him. "The others had been there months longer than I was. We have no idea why I can shift back, but they can’t. Fer-Diorich had less time to experiment on me before Fáelán and Kilian's father summoned Morrigan, who banished the Fae to the Unseelie Court."

She glanced at him but looked away with a nod. "Our grandmother. She mentioned banishing another Fae. Why do you feel guilty?” She stared at his profile a moment. “It’s because you can turn back into a man, isn’t it?”

"Wouldn't you?"

She pressed her lips together but didn't answer his question. "Where is he now? Fáelán and Kilian’s father?" she asked instead.

"Jodoc died from the banishment spell. It was a price he agreed to pay."

"Fáelán seemed to like Morgan and me. How will he and his brother react to finding out it was because of my grandmother that Fer-Diorich experimented on them in the first place? The reason their father died?”

"Fáelán's not like that, nor is his brother. They both understand why their father did what he did. Neither will blame you for another’s actions, including your grandmother’s, but why do you think he blamed Morrigan?”

“Morrigan told me Fer-Diorich fell in love with a human woman who didn’t return his affections, so he cursed her to live as a deer. Morrigan couldn’t stand the thought of a hunter shooting her, so she told her how to break the spell. The Fae didn’t like that. I’m not sure how the story ends, but…it couldn’t have had a happy ending if he is still on the rampage.”

They sat in silence until Gwyn's head jerked, slowly tilting sideways to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his weight against the arm of the sofa and twisted his body so she could sleep more comfortably against him.

Smoothing her hair down with his hand, he took a deep breath. The floral scent of her shampoo reminded him of the full bloom of a spring garden.

He brushed his lips across the top of her head, then let his head fall back against the sofa. He stared into the fire, and the tension holding his muscles in its tight grip released. She snuggled against him, wrapping her arm around his waist. His eyes closed, and he pulled her closer, wishing her body was pressed to his, skin against skin.

A few minutes later, he heard a sound in the hall and cracked an eyelid open. Makari stood in the doorway with his muzzle hanging open.

"Well, that's a first," Makari chuckled. "About damn time too."

Fáelán stepped up beside him and glanced sideways as Kilian stuck his muzzle between them. Fáelán raised his brows, an expectant look on his furry face as he waited for Kilian to notice Torin and Gwyn.

"What's a first?" Kilian asked and his muzzle dropped. "Well, I'll be damned..."

"According to Rafael," Makari said, "they met at a pub on New Year’s Eve. She's the reason he's been useless and moping around."

Fáelán smiled. "Maybe she's the answer we've been looking for." He chuckled and walked back to his library. “We can only hope,” he muttered, as Torin drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Fáelán?" Torin stood in the wide entrance, watching Fáelán's relaxed pose as he leaned against the rock countertop, drinking his favorite tea and staring across the room at the fire. The worry Torin felt before his short nap had returned.

Fáelán set his cup down with a sharp clink against the tabletop . "Is something wrong? The girls...?"

Torin held up his hand and walked into the room. "They're fine. Gwyn's asleep and Morgan is talking Makari's ear off."

Fáelán chuckled. Grabbing another mug, he topped off his tea before pouring a cup for Torin. He carried them to the small sitting area in front of the fire. "Sit. Drink some tea. It will calm your nerves." With a slight frown, he waited until Torin dropped into the barrel-shaped chair and picked up the steaming mug, cradling it between his hands.

Torin took one drink, drained the dark liquid, and found himself staring into the cup as if the answers he sought lay at the bottom. With a deep breath, he set the cup on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "It's been one hell of a day—Gwyn's telepathic," he blurted. "With her sister, of course, and evidently, me. When she lets me in. I get the distinct feeling sometimes she doesn't quite trust me yet."

Fáelán frowned and stared off into space. "And this surprises you? She hasn't known you very long. Give her time."

"Easier said than done. I don’t believe we have a lot of time."

The gray wolf shrugged. "You have untold patience with us. If she is your mate, I’m sure you will be more patient with her. What do you know about her and her sister?"

"Not much. Their parents were killed ten years ago, but she never talks about it, so I don't know how they died. I assumed it was an accident. They own a small pet store with an adjacent shelter for abused and abandoned animals."

He hesitated, thinking back to Gwyn's earlier fears. "They are Fae—through their mother." He cleared his throat, not wanting to say anything but knowing he had no choice. "Fáelán, their grandmother is Morrigan."

Fáelán scratched his cheek with one claw. "She worried about Kilian and me finding out, didn't she? What little time I've spent with them, I sensed a reluctance for better want of a word. They are also considerate and care deeply for others. Their hearts are pure. My father was a powerful druid, but he knew what had to be done. He also knew the price he would need to pay and paid it willingly—with his love for Kilian and me."

He shook his head. "No, I hold no grudge against Gwyn or Morgan." He smiled at Torin. "Now, go. Go back to your woman and get some sleep. You look half-dead. Unfortunately, all of this will still be waiting for us tomorrow."

Hours later, Torin frowned down at Gwyn and her sister, who glared back with identical stubborn expressions on their faces. "I don't think you should leave yet."

"Torin, seriously—" Morgan began, but Gwyn laid her hand on her sister's shoulder, interrupting the oncoming rant. Thankfully, Morgan only threw her arms up, her frustration palpable.

"I understand your concern, Torin, and we appreciate it, as well as everything your clan did last night for Morgan and the dogs. But we need to get back. Morgan is completely healed—just like you were yesterday, I might add—and we didn't keep you at our home, did we?"

"No, but?—"

"No buts, Torin. We must do a few things today, and I want to check on Michel to find out why he didn't meet us last night. I need to make sure he's all right."

Torin exhaled and scrubbed his face with his hands, glancing at Makari before letting them drop to his sides. “We don’t have to like it, but if that is what you both wish, I will not hold you here against your will." He watched as Morgan gingerly climbed into the passenger seat and released an ear-piercing whistle, making the two Immortals cringe.

The husky pups bounded toward them and scrambled into the pickup bed, tongues hanging from their mouths and their tails wagging in excitement. Gwyn leaned through the driver's side window and said something to them, and both dogs sat on their haunches.

She put the vehicle in reverse and turned it around, driving down the overgrown lane leading back to the highway. With the adrenalin riding him last night, he hadn’t noticed how the pickup bounced over the road. He would need to find the time to replace the shocks before she drove out here again. He rubbed the building tightness in his chest. At least he hoped there would be a next time.

"Aren't you going to go after her? At least see where they are going?"

"Makari, you are entirely too suspicious. They said they were running by their store and going to check on the friend who missed last night's adventure. Why should I not believe her?"

The large black wolf moved beside him, his muscled arms crossed over his equally developed chest as the pickup turned onto the highway. "Because she and her sister are beautiful women. Because they've lived a life none of us, including you, know about. And because the friend they're checking on is another man."