Elias's POV
Nah.
I was going to lose it.
My boots dragged against the stone floor as I paced, fingers tugging through my hair for the tenth time in two minutes.
The faint copper scent of blood still hung in the air, sticky and stubborn, no matter how hard the wind outside tried to carry it away.
Maeve's blood.
Maeve's freaking blood.
Dammit.
I ran a hand over my face and looked up at the tightly shut wooden doors of the healer's quarters. They hadn't opened since they carried her in, limp, unconscious, pale.
I could still see her eyes fluttering closed. The way she collapsed into me, cold and bleeding.
I clenched my fists tightly, trying to calm down.
Lucian was sitting on the steps, now wearing a shirt, but there were claw marks still raw across his side.
He had worn clothes shortly after he and Ronan shifted back, but Ronan too looked like shit. Lucian was badly wounded, even though as Lycans we healed very fast, his body was still sore.
