Morgan swam in and out of consciousness, her mind struggling to piece together what happened. When everything came rushing back, concern for the guys dispelled the last bit of fog from her mind. Unfortunately, the moment she turned her head, her stomach rebelled. She rolled and puked over the side of what appeared to be a bed.

She sensed movement, then a pair of hands clumsily drew back her hair, careful not to tug at the strands. Ascher. He brushed his warm fingers over the nape of her neck, trying to offer comfort. Agony unlike anything she’s ever known riddled her body, and her brain felt like it would ooze out of her skull at any moment. When she managed to open her eyes, she saw Kincade holding a trashcan for her, his white face tight with concern.

When her stomach had nothing else to give, she flopped back onto the bed, completely exhausted, her muscles protesting the abuse.

A cool, wet cloth covered her forehead, and her eyes flickered open to see everyone staring down at her.

They were all alive.

Her heart fluttered wildly as she looked from one to the next, greedily scanning every inch of them, noting every bruise, scuff and bandage.

Even battered, they were a breathtaking sight, bringing tears to her eyes.

“Give the girl some room to breathe.” Morgan recognized that gruff voice. MacGregor pushed his wheelchair closer to her, forcing the guys to step back or risk being run over. Despite the harshness in his tone, she detected the thread of anxiety in his voice. “They haven’t left your side since they carried your sorry self through those doors three days ago. You cut it pretty close this time, girlie.”

He patted her leg, clearing his throat roughly, and rolled his chair back. “I would stay longer, but I’m late for my appointment. I’m told I have you to thank for siccing Mistress McKay on me.”

Morgan ran her hand over her blanket, studiously avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”

MacGregor chuckled. “Then I’ll feel no remorse for leaving you in the care of these fine men. I’m sure they have a thing or two to say to you.”

Morgan watched him leave, increasingly uncomfortable in the oppressive silence following his exit.

Ryder gingerly settled on the bed next to hers, while Ascher and Kincade resumed their seats on opposite sides of her bed, slouching in their chairs. Draven stretched out in the bed across from her, his legs crossed, arms behind his head, gazing contemplatively at the ceiling. Atlas stood guarding the door, watching them instead of the hall.

Not ready to face the guys yet, she absently noted the familiar black cuff was back on her arm, but the black rings encircling her fingers were new, the webbed design making them appeared to be a matched set.

“How are you feeling?” Kincade kept his voice carefully neutral, a dangerous sign.

Morgan noticed wicked scars on her arms, a result of the cut Ethan had inflicted with the void weapon. Although the injuries were healed, the path the blade cut still ached deep under her skin, hard knots of scar tissue burning every time she moved. “Sore. Tired.”

She stopped dead when she saw a dew-covered metallic spiderweb spread across her lower palm and up the wrist of her left hand. It was stunningly beautiful. She ran her thumb gently over the almost-embossed-metal web, and the strands thrummed under her touch. Seconds later, she felt a sharp pinch at the side of her palm. When she turned her hand, she saw a dainty spider perched on the edge of the web next to a tiny pawprint, its sharp little legs rooting into her skin, as if refusing to leave.

To her surprise, instead of sensing a spider, pure wolf hummed under her touch, the beast crouched in submission, almost like he didn’t want to draw her attention.

Ryder.

Though the marks were different, she had no doubt they meant the same as the other two.

They were mated.

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze immediately flew to him, remorse making her throat thick. “I never meant to drag you into this mess of my life.”

The big man lifted his head, and gave her a direct stare. “Do you regret saving me?”

“What?” Morgan was horrified he would ever think such a thing. “No! Why would you even think that?”

“Then stop feeling bad.” He shrugged, a warm blush spilling into his cheeks. “I’m glad it happened. I would do it again if it meant saving you. I’m where I need to be.”

Morgan opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to scrounge up a response. She would fight tooth and nail against anyone who tried to claim her, control her, but they seemed content, even happy, to be tied to her. It was baffling…but she couldn’t deny she craved the sense of belonging they shared, the knowledge that they would have her back no matter what life threw at them.

“What do you remember?”

She turned to face Kincade, wincing at his haggard appearance. His hair looked like he’d been trying to pull it out. He was pale, making the dark shadows under his eyes look like bruises, and she hated knowing he hadn’t been taking care of himself. “Nothing much after trying to heal Ryder. Why?” She eyed him suspiciously. “What happened?”

“You were dying.” Ascher spoke bluntly, his blue eyes shattered. He reached out, then rubbed his fingers back and forth against her arm, as if to reassure himself she was alive. “Kincade carried you through the void, hoping it would heal you. You were gone for three hours. We thought we’d lost both of you.”

Her head snapped around, and she studied Kincade in confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought pure magic was like poison to those not born to that world.”

Draven sat up on his bed, swung his feet over the edge and stared down at them darkly. “He was the only one strong enough to hold you safe while you healed, and still be able to drag you back out when he knew you would live.”

A spark of anger burned in her chest, born of raw fear, and she wished she was strong enough to punch him. No wonder he looked so wrecked. He said he was fine, but she could see the toll travelling through the void had taken on him. “Why would you stupidly risk everything for me?”

Kincade jolted out of his chair, his face darkening as he stepped toward her. He leaned over until he his forehead rested against hers, then dragged in a deep breath to capture her scent. He smelled of hot stone and warm earth, and she wanted to bask in his warmth.

His light green eyes were tortured as he gazed at her face. “You are everything to me. Did you really expect me to let death take you so easily? That I wouldn’t fight for you?”

She gasped, and her heart did a silly little dance at his ragged confession. Through their connection, she felt terror chipping away at him, only her nearness seeming to ease the volatile emotion. Very gently, she cupped his face, marveling when he closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned into her. Then she reached out and smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t you ever risk yourself like that again. Do you understand me?”

Kincade jerked back and straightened in surprise, and Draven snorted.

“You are not invincible.”

Draven snorted again, and she leaned over to glare at him. “Do you have something to say?”

“Ah…” he nervously cleared his throat, rubbing his fingers over his chin. “No, ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes, then gave Kincade a suspicious look. “Explain.”

Kincade seemed to find the cheap tile floor suddenly fascinating. “I…” he tugged at his shirt, as if it no longer fit. “I’m a gargoyle.”

His confession was so awkward, so nervous, she half expected him to say he was coming out of the closet. Her mind flashed back to the fearsome gargoyle in the garden, but instinctively knew the statue wasn’t him, and couldn’t help wonder how he would look in his other form.

She thought of the small clues about his identity she’d dismissed as unimportant—the only thing she cared about was learning how to beat him in a fight. What species he was didn’t matter to her then or now. Sure, gargoyles were rare, nearly an indestructible force, and highly prized, but to her, he was just…Kade. “Okay.”

His head snapped up, and he studied her face intently. When he didn’t see what he expected, he relaxed, his confidence pouring back. “I picked you up, locked you in my arms, and stepped through the portal. I turned my skin to stone the instant we entered the void…it protected me. I half expected us to end up at the Academy, but it was like stepping into another world. Millions of bright stars were everywhere. It felt like we were floating in space. The magic was a living thing, wrapping you in this intense heat. It tried to pull you away, take you from me, and only relented when I refused to relinquish my hold. It soaked into your skin, and I watched it heal you.”

He sounded awed and disturbed at the same time. “That’s why it takes so long for you to pass through the portals.”

Morgan shrugged. “Those stars are other portals. I think if I wanted, I could step through them. Did anything happen to you while you were there? Did you see anything else?”

“Like what?” Kincade tensed, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She fiddled with the rings on her fingers. “Like the soldiers I sent through the rift?”

Silence filled the room.

After a minute, she crossed her arms defensively and glared at them, refusing to feel bad for killing the soldiers. “They were trying to kill you.”

Atlas straightened, then took a hesitant step toward her. “Do you mean you can see not only other portals, but people as well when you’re in the void?”

Morgan gave a hesitant nod. “I can feel them. Each time I pass, they become clearer. I think they can sense my presence.”

Atlas practically collapsed against the wall behind him. “We’ve always assumed the people lost in the void had died. That no one can reach them.”

He was so distressed, Morgan wanted to ease him. “I get the sense that the magic in the void is keeping them alive.”

Atlas shoved away from the wall again, taking a determined step toward her. “No one can ever know what you can do until you’ve learned how to control your powers and protect yourself. You’re safe for now, but if anyone discovers your heritage—”

“If I’m discovered, this will happen again. I can never return to my old life in the primordial realm.” She could never go home. Morgan expected pain, not the nearly overwhelming relief that she wouldn’t have to choose between her old life and her new one. “I understand.”

Atlas looked at her intently. “You will be giving up your birthright.”

“Yes.”

“Your right to rule.”

Morgan shrugged, barely holding back a shudder at the thought of being in charge of thousands, even millions of people. “Yes.”

“If you return, you can change things, heal the primordial realm.” He spoke softly, almost to himself.

A chill slipped over her skin at the tiny spark of hope in his dark green eyes, the burden of saving a whole world nearly crushing her under its weight. “Or it could all go horribly wrong if others discovered my real identity.”

“You’re both right.” Kincade’s mouth tightened in annoyance. “It’s too dangerous for this information to get out. We need to keep it a secret for now, until you’ve had a chance to be fully trained. We’ll double your training regimen and speak to the headmistress about special classes, so you can learn how to cast magic.”

Her breath halted painfully in her chest.

They weren’t going to send her away.

She watched in wonder while they argued back and forth about what needed to be done first. While they talked, they each watched her like a hawk, ensuring that she hadn’t moved, that she was safe, and she knew she had a long road ahead of her to earn back their trust.

While they might think her life was more important than their own, they were wrong.

She wouldn’t change what had happened, but she had to be more careful in the future. She had more to live for now. She needed to learn how to fight smarter, fight harder, and make sure they never came so close to losing anyone on their team again.

A brisk knock sounded on the door.

Without waiting for a response, it swung open and the guys jumped into action, grabbing their weapons, arranging themselves protectively between her and the door. The headmistress took them in at a glance, then nodded, her shoes clicking on the floor as she came near. “This came for you while you were away.”

She reached over and handed Morgan a familiar, gilded envelope of heavy vellum.

Across the front, the word champion was printed in beautiful, gold-leaf calligraphy.

“We would be honored to have you remain with us. This school used to teach and train all the champions. It will be good to go back to the old ways again.” Her dark eyes were appraising as she surveyed Morgan from head to foot. “You will need to be prepared for the future. The void needs to be put into balance, and you’re one of the few champions remaining. Your affinity for primordial magic will be invaluable.”

Morgan could only blink in surprise, a spurt of panic tightening her chest. “I don’t understand.”

“Too many rifts are tearing through the barriers between the worlds. Only someone who can handle that type of magic, someone with your skills, can uncover the cause and help fix it. Your abilities would be wasted on normal rift duty.”

The men were all grim, their bodies tense. “Headmistress—”

She waved Kincade away. “Save your breath. You and the others will remain as her personal guards. Only a few of us know her true identity, and we plan to keep it that way. The Academy has made us aware of the situation so we may help you train her properly for her new role.”

Morgan felt like she’d just been dropped into the deep end of the pool with a kraken dragging her under.

“I’ll leave you to rest.” The headmistress gave the guys a pointed look, then turned on her heel without another word.

Morgan should be afraid, but only one thing mattered to her—they wouldn’t be separated.

She wasn’t being sent away.

She could live through anything with the guys at her side.

They seemed to come to the same conclusion, slowly beginning to relax for the first time since she woke, and she was startled to realize they were willing to give up everything in order to stay with her.

Warmth filled her soul as she studied them, one at a time.

They were her friends.

Her family.

And if she wasn’t careful, they would keep her permanently cocooned in bubble wrap. They needed to learn she wasn’t going to let them get away with simply protecting her. They were going to be a team, whether they liked it or not.

“I’m starving. I don’t suppose I could talk you into stealing me something from the kitchen?”

Kincade promptly straightened at the chance to do something. “Of course.”

As the door closed behind him, she immediately turned toward the others. “Now what do I have to do to get out of here?”

She hated hospitals.

The only hunters who ever visited them were the dead or dying.

It reminded her how close she came to losing everything.

At her question, all conversation stopped, and the men froze as if caught by a predator.

Draven looked troubled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kincade wouldn’t like it.”

Morgan lifted her arm and pointed to the markings. “He’ll be able to find me. We might as well begin as we mean to go on.”

She raised an eyebrow at him in a silent dare, and Draven burst out laughing and shrugged. “Rooftop?”

Morgan beamed at him, unable to remember when she’d ever been so happy. “Perfect.”

She peered up at Ascher, blinking up at him innocently. “Will you be my chariot?”

He leaned over, smiling indulgently, easily plucking her out of the bed before she even finished asking. He planted his face in her hair and inhaled, his arms pulling her tight against him, but she didn’t mind, snuggling against him when she remembered how close she came to losing them all.

She was done with pushing them away.

It hadn’t worked anyway.

They still managed to find a way into her heart.