“I’m all right,” Hugh said again. Even though he was as white as a ghost in the strobing lights of the emergency vehicles, he still mustered an impressive glare. “For the last time, will you all please stop fretting?”

Ivy tugged at his hand, trying to urge him forward. “Hugh, you have to go to the hospital. You’re hurt.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Hugh cast a withering look at his colleagues. “And yes, I’m fully aware of the irony. Shut up.”

Dai and John Doe, who hadn’t said anything, exchanged glances. Ivy was pretty sure the two hulking dragon shifters were conferring telepathically about whether to bodily pick Hugh up and stuff him into the waiting ambulance.

Hope had already left in another ambulance, Betty at her side. The hellhound had nearly bitten a paramedic who’d tried to tell her that she couldn’t ride along since she wasn’t a family member. Ivy had expected her wyvern to object, but her beast had been oddly calm about the arrangement.

She is her treasure too, Ivy’s wyvern had muttered, albeit with a hint of grudging reluctance. We can share. We suppose.

Ash was busy talking to the police, while Chase and Griff kept hold of Gaze. The Phoenix had called some kind of secret emergency line, so the officers who’d arrived were all shifters who knew how to deal with this sort of special case. Ivy wondered what they would do with the basilisk.

We should have killed him, her wyvern snarled. Still could.

Ivy shivered, pushing her inner beast back down. Gaze wasn’t her problem now. And no matter what her wyvern thought, she was glad not to have blood on her hands. After all, Hope and Hugh were all right. That was all that mattered.

Hugh was going to be all right. She clung onto that thought, as tightly as she clung onto his hand, and tried not to think about the terrible sight of that grey, lightless horn.

“Hugh, be reasonable,” Dai said, his soft Welsh voice soothing. He took a step toward the swaying paramedic. “Come on, you have to—“

“Don’t touch me!”

Heads turned across the parking lot at Hugh’s shout. Ivy stumbled, jerked off-balance as Hugh recoiled from Dai. He flattened himself against the wall as if the dragon shifter had lunged at him with every claw bared.

Dai halted, holding up his hands in uncertain surrender. “I wasn’t going to touch you. I’m nowhere near you, Hugh.”

Hugh’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Don’t come any closer. None of you come any closer. Stay away!”

Dai and John both obediently backed off, though they were already well out of arms’-reach. Ivy started to pull away too, but Hugh’s fingers tightened on hers.

“Not you.” His voice was a bare whisper, pitched for her ears alone. “You don’t hurt me. Please, Ivy. Just take me home. Brighton, not my parents’ place. I have to go home. Please.”

There was no arguing with the raw desperation in his voice. “Okay,” Ivy said, letting go of his hand. “Wait here a sec. I’ll go talk to Ash.”

He slid down the wall into a huddled sitting position, fists clenched at his temples. “Hurry.”

Worry stabbed through her gut. She was suddenly as desperate as Hugh to get away from all the questions and concerns, the uniforms and sirens and flashing lights. Her wyvern instincts howled that she needed to carry her treasure away from all this.

She could feel her palms going clammy with deadly venom, her wyvern rousing in response to her distress. Despite her pounding heart, she forced herself to take a moment to check that her gloves were still safely in place before hurrying over to Ash and the other firefighters.

“I’m taking Hugh home,” she said, deliberately phrasing it as a statement rather than a request for permission. “It’ll be fastest for me to fly him back to Brighton. Griff, can you stay with Hope?”

“Of course, lass,” Griff said, though his blond eyebrows drew down, brow furrowing. “But shouldn’t Hugh go to the hospital too? There’ll be doctors there who know how to treat shifters.”

“He doesn’t want to,” Ivy said. “That’s good enough for me. Tell Hope I’ll come get her tomorrow, okay?”

“No need for that. I’ll bring her and her friend back myself.” Griff glanced over at Hugh, his golden eyes betraying his deep concern. “You just look after him, aye?”

Ash inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Do not worry about matters here, Ms. Viverna. I shall personally deal with everything that is required.”

Ivy shifted her weight awkwardly, forcing herself to meet the Phoenix’s eyes. It was hard to look into those dark, enigmatic depths for long. He was so disconcertingly still, with an unwavering focus that made her feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“Thanks,” she said, awkwardly. “For, you know. Everything.”

Her skin prickled as the penetrating power behind those dark eyes scrutinized her for a long, silent moment.

Then the Phoenix held out his hand to her.

“No,” he said. “Thank you.”

* * *

“We’re here, Hugh,” Ivy whispered, hurrying to support him the instant she shifted back into human form. “We’re home.”

Hugh didn’t respond. He’d seemed barely conscious during the flight to Brighton. Ivy had been terrified that he was about to slide off her neck at any moment. Now he stumbled like a drunk man up the road, his arm heavy across her shoulders. The fact that he was letting her take some of his weight scared her even more.

Ivy was pretty sure that Hugh wasn’t carrying his Brighton house keys in the pockets of his crumpled and stained formalwear, so she didn’t waste time patting him down. Instead, she spat on the door lock.

“Sorry,” she said, as her acid quickly ate away the mechanism. “Unhygienic, but it works.”

“Just get me inside.” His voice was low and hoarse.

Kicking open the weakened door, Ivy steered Hugh into the dark hallway. She’d hoped that he’d gain some comfort from being back in his own territory, but he stared around blankly, as if he didn’t recognize his surroundings.

“Door,” he rasped.

It took some effort to force the twisted door closed again. By the time Ivy had finally bludgeoned it back into its frame, Hugh had disappeared.

“Hugh?” she called, her pulse picking up with anxiety. She hurried down the corridor, glancing into the empty kitchen and dark lounge along the way. “Hugh?”

She found him leaning against the door down to the basement, one hand fumbling with the latch. “Hugh, what are you doing? Do you want to shift?”

He flinched as though she’d fired a pistol past his ear. “No. No. Just need to find somewhere quiet.”

She blinked at him. Even to her own shifter-acute hearing, the house was dead silent. “It isn’t quiet enough here?”

He swung his head in an emphatic arc. “Can still feel them.”

“Who?”

He flashed a shadow of his edged, sardonic smile, though his eyes were haunted. “Everyone.”

Is he delirious? There was a pallor to his face and a feverish jerkiness about his movements that made her deeply uneasy. Maybe I should have forced him to the hospital.

“Well, I can’t carry you in human form, and if you try to go down those steps in this state, you’re going to break your neck,” she said, firmly taking his arm. “Come on, Hugh. Come and lie down and…maybe you’ll feel better.”

He let out a short, hollow laugh, but let her steer him away from the basement. There was no way she could haul his much bigger and heavier body up the stairs while in human shape, so she guided him to the couch in the living room.

“You’re hurt,” he said suddenly, as she knelt to take off his shoes.

Looking down, Ivy realized that her torn jacket and top had slipped, exposing her shoulder. A deep purple bruise from Gaze’s bludgeoning tail was blooming below her collarbone. The basilisk hadn’t dared to sink his fangs into her for fear of her poisonous blood, but he’d still managed to knock her around before Ash had arrived.

“It’s nothing,” she said, rolling her aching shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll heal in no time.”

Hugh pulled her clothing away from her shoulder. Before she’d realized what he intended to do, he put his palm flat against the bruise.

She didn’t feel anything—but a wordless, animal scream of pain tore from Hugh’s throat. Snatching his hand away, he curled over, burying his head in his arms as if warding off a blow.

“Hugh!” She grabbed his shoulders, holding him tight as he shook. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t heal,” he said. “Ivy, I can’t heal.”

That deep, ugly gash at the base of his horn. She arrived before Gaze had been able to finish the job, but he’d still half-severed it. Silver light had poured from the wound, the shining length draining to dull, dead grey…

“It’s your horn, isn’t it,” she said, her throat dry. “You can’t heal because he damaged your horn.”

He nodded, face still hidden in his hands. “I can’t focus my power. It builds up in my head, but I can’t let it out.”

“But it’ll get better, right?” she asked. “With time?”

He uncurled at last. The utter despair in his eyes froze her heart.

“No,” he said, simply. “It won’t.”

I was too late.

Ten seconds earlier, and I would have saved him.

I was too late.

“I’ll never be able to heal again.” He stared down at his curled hands. “I’m useless. Worse than useless. You want to know what the worst part is?”

She took his hand, silently. His fingers were cold as ice in hers.

“The worst part,” he said, his voice low and savage with self-loathing, “is that losing my power isn’t the worst part. All the people I won’t be able to help anymore, and all I can think about is myself. Because it hurts, Ivy. The wound in my horn…I can’t let my energy out, but everyone else’s energies are coming in. I can’t block them out at all anymore.”

That’s why he’d flinched away from Dai, why he’d been so desperate to escape the crowd at the crime scene. “Oh God. Your sensitivity is worse?”

“A thousand times worse. Even Ash felt like a knife in my skull, and he’s been celibate for decades.” He turned his head, staring blindly through the wall. “And I’m picking up on energies from much further away. Even now, I can still feel the people in the houses nearby scratching at my mind…I feel like I’ve been flayed. Like my skin’s been turned inside out.”

“Then—then we’ll go somewhere else.” She had to find a way to ease his suffering, she had to. “Somewhere there aren’t any people. We’ll go right now.”

She tried to stand up, but he pulled her back down again. His expression was hollow and defeated, drained of all hope.

“What’s the use?” he said. “Even if we go to the ends of the earth, what’s the point? I can’t heal, I can’t be your mate…I can’t do anything for you. And this is never going to get any better.”

Her breath caught.

Because there was something that she could do for him.

“Hugh.” She took his bowed head in her hands, turning him to look at her. “It can get better.”

“My unicorn knows we can’t heal from this, Ivy. Don’t cling to false hope.“

“I’m not. There is a way to take away the pain, Hugh.” His eyes widened as she leaned in. “And you know what it is.”

Her lips met his.

She closed her eyes, tears welling up at the sweet heat of his touch. His mouth opened, and she deepened the kiss, fiercely, stifling his half-formed words.

What she needed to tell him now couldn’t be said with words. With her lips and tongue and hands, she needed to show him how much she loved him. How much his touch still healed her, despite the loss of his power. How much she needed him.

How much she needed him to accept this gift.

He made a low, despairing sound deep in his throat. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her back, his mouth hungry and desperate—but then he broke off, turning his head to one side.

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Ivy, no. If I—if I do lose my unicorn, I won’t be immune to your venom anymore. I won’t be able to touch you.”

“We can’t touch now.” She straddled his lap. His muscled thighs tensed underneath her own, but he didn’t push her away. “This might not even work, if your dad is right. But in that case, at least we can be together, somewhere far away from anyone else.”

His hands clenched into fists as though he was having to prevent himself from reaching for her. “But if he isn’t right—”

“Don’t worry about it.” She pulled his shirt out from his dress trousers. “I have a plan.”

She did have a plan, albeit a desperate, last-ditch one. Hugh would never agree if he knew about it. To distract him from asking more questions, she ran her palms among the smooth, rippling lines of his abs, under his shirt. His muscles hardened under her hands, his eyes going wide and dark.

“You can’t go on like this, Hugh,” she said softly, bending down to him. “We can’t go on like this. Whatever happens, it has to be better than the way things are now.”

He captured her mouth again, tongue thrusting past her lips in desperate need. Now she was the one making noises, gasping as desire pulsed between her thighs.

Blindly, she jerked his shirt apart, craving the feel of his hot skin against her own. She dug her fingernails into the hard planes of his chest, claiming his body even as he claimed her mouth. More, she needed more. There were far too many clothes still between them.

As if reading her mind, he ripped her jacket from her shoulders. She sat up, fumbling to pull off her layered tops. She got briefly stuck in the layered garments, but Hugh freed her, impatiently tossing the torn clothing aside.

She threw back her head as he bit at her bared throat. He worked his way down, feverishly kissing her collarbone and the soft curve of her breast.

When his hot mouth closed over her nipple, through the thin cotton fabric of her bra, she lost all control. She clutched at the back of his neck, pushing her breast further into his hungry mouth. Helplessly, she ground herself against his rigid length as he sucked and licked.

He broke off, pulling back. Cold air teased her nipple through the wet fabric of her bra. She made a brief, wordless sound of disappointment—but he’d only stopped in order to undo the catch. He caught her nipple again in his mouth as her bra fell free, and oh, if it had been good before, it was nothing compared to the sheer heaven of his touch now.

“Hugh,” she cried out, as each swirl of his tongue pulled her helplessly closer to the brink. “Wait, slow down, too much!“

Rather than stop, he sucked harder. His agile hands popped open the button of her jeans. One long finger slid through her slick folds.

“Hugh!” Her hips jerked as he found just the right spot. “Hugh, stop, I’m going to—!”

She felt his lips curve in a smile against her breast as she exploded. She held tight onto his tattooed shoulders, lost to everything except him. Pulsing waves of pleasure swirled through her, more intense than she’d ever experienced.

He gasped. She froze, her afterglow quenched by sudden cold fear.

She’d come, and he still hadn’t.

“Oh no.” Pulling back, she anxiously scrutinized his face, searching for any sign of pain. “Do I hurt you now?”

“No.” His blue eyes were soft with wonder. He brushed her hair back from her face, fingertips light and tender on her skin. “You don’t. There’s no difference.” His expression twisted in sudden dismay. “Shit. Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh God no.” She was still trembling, lightning-jolts of pleasure shooting through her from the intensity of the experience. “That was—that was amazing. And also not what we were meant to be doing. This is supposed to be about you, remember?”

His eyes heated again. “That was for me. Watching you…nothing could be better.”

His cock was an iron bar between them. He sucked in his breath as she reached down, stroking him through his pants.

“That sounds like a challenge,” she said, grinning at him. Then her smile faded a little. “So…if I’m still not setting off your unicorn, does that mean that your father is right? I can’t take your animal?”

“I don’t know.” His jaw had gone tight, the tendons on the side of his neck standing out as she continued to rub her palm against his hidden length. “But if you keep doing that, we’re going to find out.”

Her thighs trembled at the thought, but she made herself pause. “Hugh…do you really want to do this?”

He went still under her. His eyes met hers for a long, long moment.

Then, “Yes,” he said softly.

With shaking hands, she undid his belt. The sound of his zip sliding down sounded shockingly loud in the silence. He lifted his hips to let her pull his clothes down. And then he was free, bare to her at last.

She couldn’t look away from that hard, proud shaft. A little tentatively, she closed her hand around him. The unexpected softness of his skin there made her draw in a soft, surprised breath. He let out a low groan from his throat in response. Heart beating fast, she tightened her fingers, and was rewarded with another moan and a jerk of his hips.

“Ivy,” he gasped. “I’m not going to last long either.”

A pearl of liquid was beading at his tip. She leaned in close, licking at it. The salt-sweet taste was another surprise, and one that brought an answering rush of heat between her own thighs. She wanted more, needed more.

“Ivy!” He grabbed at her hair, holding her back as she tried to take him into her mouth. “If you do that, I won’t be able to help myself.”

“That’s the idea.” She squeezed him, marveling at the contrast of soft and hard. “If you do lose your unicorn…we can’t risk you being inside me. We don’t know how quickly my venom would affect you. This is the safest way, Hugh.”

His eyes were dark. Primal desire had stripped away his usual control, his need for her clear in every line of his body. “This isn’t—I didn’t want—I’m sorry. You’re right. But I wish we could do this properly.”

“Shh.” She pushed him back down again. “Next time.”

Though she wasn’t sure if she hoped there would be a next time. If she couldn’t take his unicorn, he’d still be in agony.

No. She had to focus on the present rather than worrying over the future. This was Hugh’s first time too. She had to make it as good for him as he had for her.

She slid her mouth down over his shaft. He swore, thighs taut under her hands as she explored his hard length. The merest flick of her tongue over a certain spot on the underside made him thrust helplessly into her mouth, his fingers digging into her shoulders.

Now she understood what he’d meant when he’d said that her pleasure earlier had been as much for him as for her. Every one of his gasps and moans stoked her own fire. To be the one making him writhe and buck, to be the one taking him higher, to be able to taste the effect she had on him—it was almost better than her own release.

Mate him! Her wyvern’s animal lust swept through her, nearly burning away all other thought. Mate! Now!

Despite her wyvern instinct and her own desire, Ivy held onto control by her fingernails. She worked him harder, channeling all her own desperate longing into giving him pleasure.

He was her mate. She wanted to do this for him. It was the one thing that she could do for him.

“Ivy!” he cried out, arcing up. “Ivy!”