Page 19 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

ELENA

T he wilderness stretches before me, vast and indifferent to my desperate mission.

I adjust my pack, wincing as the strap presses against a bruised shoulder—a parting gift from the Haven’s Heart security officer who tried to stop me from leaving the settlement.

The morning sun breaks through the dense pine canopy, casting dappled light across the forest floor.

Somewhere ahead lies a fallen golden eagle, and with him, my heart.

“You’re making a mistake, Doctor.” Captain Reed’s final warning echoes in my mind. “This is treason.”

Perhaps it is. But I’ve discovered that loyalty is more complicated than following orders.

I check my tablet’s tracking system, a modified version of the standard Haven’s Heart field unit. The display shows faint energy signatures concentrated in a canyon approximately three miles northwest. The signal is weak but distinct—a storm energy pattern I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Kael’s.

News of his fall reached the settlement shortly after dawn.

A border patrol reported seeing a massive golden eagle plummeting from the sky during what appeared to be an aerial battle between Storm Eagles.

The patrolmen described lightning filling the air, followed by a sickening spiral as the largest eagle fell, its wings failing to catch the wind.

I knew immediately. The mate bond, incomplete as it is, sent phantom pain lancing through my body the moment they described the fallen eagle.

When the patrol mentioned the location—a remote canyon between our territories—I didn’t hesitate.

I packed medical supplies, stole the portable regenerator from the lab, and slipped away before Marcus or anyone else could stop me.

My brother would understand my leaving, even if he couldn’t condone it. After all, he was the one who intervened when Director Voss wanted me arrested. But he wouldn’t understand where I was going, or why.

The terrain grows steeper as I approach the canyon’s edge. My scientific mind calculates Kael’s chances of survival based on terminal velocity, impact forces, and shifter healing capabilities. The numbers aren’t encouraging. Even with his enhanced Storm Eagle physiology, a fall from that height…

I push the thought away and focus on climbing down the rocky slope. My boots slip on loose scree, sending small avalanches of pebbles cascading below. Every instinct screams that I need to hurry, but a fall won’t help either of us.

Halfway down, I pause to catch my breath.

The canyon stretches about a mile in either direction, its walls rising nearly two hundred feet on both sides.

A perfect trap if either Haven’s Heart or Storm Eagle patrols discover us.

I scan the sky nervously. Viktor would surely send scouts to confirm Kael’s death.

And Haven’s Heart will eventually notice my absence.

We’ll have hours at most. If he’s still alive.

The canyon floor is surprisingly lush—a hidden microclimate created by a small stream cutting through the rock.

Under different circumstances, I might appreciate its scientific wonder.

Now, I follow the tracking signal with single-minded focus, pushing through dense undergrowth until I reach a small clearing.

My heart stops.

Kael lies motionless on the ground, half-transformed between eagle and human form.

One massive wing stretches awkwardly beneath him, clearly broken.

His other arm is human, covered in deep lacerations.

Blood soaks the ground beneath him, far too much blood.

His face—human but with eagle features still partially manifest—is deathly pale, his breathing so shallow I can barely detect it.

“Kael,” I whisper, rushing to kneel beside him.

No response. His skin is cool to the touch, his pulse thready and erratic under my fingertips. Trauma-induced partial shifting is one of the worst conditions for a shifter—their bodies caught between forms, unable to fully access either form’s healing capabilities.

Medical training takes over as I assess his injuries: multiple broken bones, internal bleeding, ruptured organs, massive blood loss. The clinical part of my brain catalogs each injury while another part screams that this is Kael—not a patient, but the man who has become essential to my existence.

“I’m not going to let you die,” I tell him, unpacking my medical supplies with shaking hands.

The portable regenerator—stolen technology that would earn me a treason charge all on its own—powers up with a soft hum. I calibrate it for shifter physiology, praying the modifications I made to accommodate Storm Eagle genetics will work. It’s experimental at best, dangerous at worst.

I cut away what remains of his leather armor, exposing the full extent of his injuries. Multiple ribs protrude through the torn muscle. His abdomen is distended from internal bleeding. The broken wing—a horrific compound fracture—makes me nauseous despite my medical training.

The regenerator can help, but it won’t be enough. Not for injuries this severe.

My hands begin to glow faintly as I place them on his chest, the silver-blue light intensifying as I press harder against his skin. The power that’s been awakening inside me since our first meeting responds to his presence, even in this state.

“Come on,” I mutter, focusing my will into the energy flowing from my palms.

The regenerator supplements my efforts, its soft green beam merging with my blue-silver light to create a pulsing teal glow that spreads across Kael’s torso. I feel resistance—his injuries fighting my attempts to heal them, his life force flickering like a candle in the wind.

“Fight, damn you,” I hiss, pouring more of myself into him.

Nothing. The energy flows from me into him, but it’s like trying to fill a shattered vessel. The magic leaks out almost as quickly as I can channel it. His body is too damaged, the internal injuries too severe.

Frustration and fear claw at my throat. I’m losing him. All my scientific knowledge, all my emerging magical abilities—none of it is enough.

Unless…

The thought that forms is both terrifying and exhilarating.

In my research on Storm Eagle genetics, I discovered references to ancient healing bonds—life force transfers that could save a critically injured mate.

The texts were fragmentary, the science beyond even my understanding, but the principle was clear: a temporary merging of energies, a sharing of life itself.

It’s dangerous. Possibly fatal if done wrong. But Kael is dying, and I can’t lose him now.

I strip off my jacket, then my shirt, shivering slightly in the cool canyon air. Skin-to-skin contact is essential for the energy transfer. I position myself over him, pressing my bare torso against his, my hands cradling his face.

“Listen to me, Kael Stormwright,” I whisper, my face inches from his. “I am not letting you go. Do you hear me? Your clan needs you. I need you.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the incomplete bond between us. I visualize it as a golden thread, stretched thin but unbroken, connecting his heart to mine. Then I pour everything I have into that connection—not just my healing magic, but my very essence.

The world explodes into blinding blue-white light.

Pain lances through me—not my own pain, but his, transferred through our connection. I feel ribs snapping back into place inside a chest that isn’t mine. I taste blood in a mouth that’s foreign. My wings—no, his wings—scream with agony as shattered bones realign.

Our heartbeats synchronize, his strengthening as mine weakens. Our breaths match, his deepening as mine grow shallow. I’m giving him my strength, my health, my life force. The transfer is more powerful than I anticipated, more consuming.

Too much. I’m giving too much.

But I can’t stop now. His body is healing, responding to our combined energy. Torn flesh knits together beneath my hands. Ruptured organs seal themselves. The malformed shifting begins to reverse, his body finally settling fully into human form.

My vision darkens at the edges. My limbs grow heavy. I’m going too far, risking my own life, but I can’t bring myself to break the connection. Not until I know he’ll survive.

Just when I think I might lose consciousness, a surge of energy flows back toward me—not my own returning, but something new.

Storm magic, wild and electric, fills the spaces I’ve emptied within myself.

Kael is unconsciously responding, his healing body instinctively protecting mine from complete depletion.

His eyes snap open—golden amber burning with confusion, then recognition.

“Elena?” His voice is raw, barely audible.

The connection between us pulses once more, then stabilizes into something new—not the complete mate bond, but stronger than before. A balanced energy exchange rather than the one-way transfer that nearly killed me.

I collapse against his chest, suddenly too weak to hold myself up. His arms—human now, the wing completely transformed—wrap around me, holding me close.

“What did you do?” he whispers, voice tinged with wonder and horror. “What did you do to yourself?”

“Saved you,” I manage, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “You were dying.”

“So you decided to die instead?” Anger mingles with gratitude in his tone.

“Calculated risk.” I try to smile, but can’t muster the strength. “Scientific approach.”

“Reckless,” he corrects, but his arms tighten around me. I feel his lips press against my forehead, gentle despite his obvious fury. “Brilliant but reckless.”

We lie together on the forest floor, both too weak to move, the regenerator still humming softly beside us.

My scientific mind notes that we’ve created a temporary energy equilibrium—my healing magic balancing his storm power.

The exchange saved his life and prevented me from giving too much of myself.

Fascinating, really. If I had the strength, I’d document the process for future research.