The heated stream of water from the shower pelted my back, and I smoothed the sponge over my skin. The steam helped to soothe my sore muscles and also clear my head. Usually, I rested on Sundays, but I'd come across something in one of the old Caedmon textbooks that I wanted to compare against my research at the museum. Although the museum was closed on Sundays, I ended up being there well into the afternoon only to return to the estate where I met up with Luna for a few drinks.

I hadn’t seen Tristan since this morning when he told me he'd be out on the property with some recruits. I figured that time away from each other was a good thing. Every time we saw each other, we ended up on a bed or against a wall.

As if on cue, I felt a cold draft floating above me. My instincts told me that my mate had entered the bathroom. I grinned but continued to wash the shampoo from my hair.

The door to the shower slid open. I fully expected to feel a strong pair of arms around my waist and a solid erection against my backside. Instead, Tristan’s hand went lax the moment he touched me.

I spun around to see a man who appeared to have gone to hell and somehow come back. His hair was tousled. Blood and mud were stuck to his skin, even his face. Ugly cuts and deep gashes riddled his body. Some of the blood appeared to be his, but most of it was just smeared on his skin.

“Oh my God.” I held his face in my hands. “What happened, Tristan? Who did this? Are you healing?”

“I think so.” He nodded, yanked off a torn piece of fabric from what used to make up his shirt, and tossed it on the tiles.

My heart thundered in my throat. I felt like I was going to suffocate. I steered him under the water, watching as the blood and dirt left his skin and fell into the drain. Only then could I see the marks riddling him. I applied my hands to him, trying to heal him as fast as I could as only a mate could do. It looked like he was in pain. I wanted to take the pain away too, but in my current state of shock, I couldn't seem to calm down enough to access my magic.

“Tristan, did you have business tonight? What happened? These look like wolf claws. Someone bit you,” I croaked.

“Sssh,” Tristan said, pressing his forehead against mine.

He was almost as cold as ice and had lost so much blood.

He grabbed my hand and placed my fingers on his temples. He was permitting me to access his memories. I returned his glance, questioningly, but he nodded and closed his eyes.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and uttered a spell.

After funneling through a string of events that had happened just this past week, I finally found the source of his current predicament.

He had been ambushed by Converted shifters. I saw a group of them. Ten. Maybe more. Tristan had been alone, fighting the wolves off by himself. In the end, none of the Converted remained alive. My visions showed me nothing but carnage. Ripped out throats. Mangled legs and bodies. A bloodbath. The visions weren't as vivid after that, but I felt the pain Tristan had gone through, running back to his estate amid the blood loss. The moment he reached the Arnou property lines, his men had offered aid, rushing to him in droves. He had shoved right past them. He intended to reach the only person who could take the pain away.

Me.

I pulled back to break the link. “Tristan…I’m so sorry this happened.”

”At least now I know…I know they're out there. Jovan and his Coverted are closer than we realize,” he panted and leaned against the glass door.

“Why aren’t these healing?” I fussed. “What did they do to you? I should be able to just touch you…”

“Elisa…” He grabbed my hands. “You’ve done enough. Don’t overexert yourself.”

“No.” I shook my head, witnessing as Tristan’s wounds opened right back up the moment I stopped touching him. “You’re still bleeding. What the hell? What kind of bites are these?”

Despite his protests, I placed my hands on his torso, but this time I used a reversal spell since our mating bond wasn't healing him. As I used my magic to help him recover, Tristan's skin color turned to normal. Instead of slumping against the glass door, his shoulders had straightened, and he now stood tall without looking like he was going to topple over and collapse in the shower.

“Stop. Enough, Elisa,” he told me, pulling me against his chest into a comforting embrace.

”You were worried about me running into harm's way,” I said, trying to draw my energy back in. I had used so much of it. ”Next time you decide to run off into uncharted territories, I'll be going with you.”

He chuckled and then said, “I’d never put you into that predicament, Elisa.”

I meant to say that I'd give him no choice, but I never got the words past my lips. My body went lax in his arms and true to his predictions about the overuse of my magic, I passed out in his arms.