Chapter Twenty-Seven
Boots planted on the edge of the basketball court inside the gym, Forge searched for his female in the chaos. His gaze jumped over Sloan and Bastian. Heads together, bent over a computer, the pair commiserated, yakking about God knew what and . . . shite. He didn’t care. Not right now. Not with Hope in the wind and—fucking hell. He turned his back for one second and she disappeared. Scampered from view. Made herself scarce . . . whatever. His brow furrowed, he leaned right, looked past Haider and Nian, ignored Wick’s raised brow and Venom’s knowing grin. He scowled. Where the hell—
The sound of her voice cranked his head around.
He found her in less than a second.
Back to being quiet, she sat cross-legged on an exercise mat with the other females. Chin tilted down, she dragged her hands through her strawberry blond hair. A quick twist of her fingers. A faster flash of an elastic, and she tamed the unruly mass, imprisoning the strands in a messy bun atop her head. Angela said something to her. His female grinned, a huff of laughter escaping as she gave Rikar’s mate a playful shove.
The muscles roping his abdomen clenched.
Christ, he adored watching her. Would never get tired of seeing her smile and her eyes spark in pleasure. Running his gaze over her one more time, ensuring she was all right, he turned his attention back to the center of the gym. The designated workhorses, Venom and Wick saw to the setup. Large wrestling mat already pressed flat at center court, the pair lifted a padded hip-high table. Stout legs levered off the floor, the lads walked it sideways and set it down in the middle, hiding the dragon emblem stamped into the rubberized surface.
Another thing checked off his list.
The last link in his mental chain.
One more step toward making Mac well.
Eyes roaming, he swept the scene again. Everyone here and accounted for, not a single soul missing, the entire pack on board with his idea and the energy circle. The unconditional acceptance should’ve made him feel better. Eased down his tension and helped him breathe easier. It didn’t. Worry acted like a poison pill instead, making him twitch with unease, winding his muscles so tight he struggled not to snap . . . at everyone in sight.
Swallowing a snarl, Forge rolled his shoulders.
The soft thud of footfalls sounded to his left. Glancing sideways, he glowered as Rikar strode toward him. The Nightfury first in command’s lips twitched. The urge to haul off and hit the male thumped through him. Forge flexed his hands. Bloody hell. Nothing about the situation approached funny. Not after all he’d put Hope and himself through today. Not Mac’s worsening condition. Nor the potential clusterfuck of an energy circle he was in charge of initiating.
Rikar came abreast of him.
“Screw off, laddie,” he said, more growl than actual words. “Go bother someone else.”
“Now, now.” Stepping alongside him, Rikar slapped the back of his shoulder. The solid tap rocked him forward. “Settle down, big guy. You’ve got it well in hand and . . .” He glanced toward the exercise mat. Pale eyes settled on his mate, glowed in pleasure, then skipped over to Hope. “Don’t worry. Angela’s got her.”
Shite. He hoped so. No matter how close at hand, leaving Hope with others when she needed him most didn’t sit well. But he couldn’t do two things at once. He needed to supervise the setup. Make sure everything went just right. No mistakes could be made. If he screwed up, even a bit, Mac would suffer along with every female in the room.
“Where are Mac and Tania?”
“On the way,” Rikar said. “Myst took the IV out like you asked. She’s monitoring his vitals. Gage is rolling them in.”
“All right, then,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. No more stalling. Time to set his plan in motion and pray it worked. Sending a quick word in the goddess’s direction, Forge released the lungful in a long, slow rush and glanced at Rikar. “Get everyone into position.”
With a nod, Rikar brought two fingers to his mouth. A sharp whistle pierced the air. Everyone’s attention snapped in his direction. Raising his hand, he flicked his fingers, signaling the roundup. A cacophony of sound erupted. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor. A computer clicked closed. Heavy footfalls echoed against the gym ceiling as his brothers-in-arms moved as one, interrupting the buzz of industrial-size lights overhead. Dressed in flowing ceremonial robes, Angela, Evie, Hope, and J. J. followed the males. Bare feet padding over the wooden floor and onto the rubber mat, each female took her position next to the table.
Hope met his gaze.
Forge nodded in approval, his pride for her almost leveling him where he stood. Beautiful female. His mate was so damn brave. She crossed all boundaries and ticked every box on his wish list, exceeding all expectations. His eyes holding hers, he tipped his chin. She smiled back—not a lot, a slight lifting of her lips—but it was enough to calm him as Gage pushed Mac’s hospital bed through open double doors and into the gym.
Wheels squeaked across the floor.
Dragging his focus from Hope, Forge stared at Mac. Christ help him. His friend looked terrible. Tattoo glowing bright red, skin the color of ash, he lay unconscious, belly down on the narrow mattress. Curled around her mate, Tania didn’t look much better. Exhaustion lined her pretty face, and as her dark eyelashes lifted and she met his gaze, his heart sank. Fucking hell. It was worse than he thought. If the energy circle didn’t work, if he couldn’t calibrate the frequency, if the tiniest thing went wrong—
“Tania,” J. J. said, voice wobbling, heartbreak in her eyes as she moved toward her sister.
“Don’t, baby J. No more tears,” Tania whispered as the bed stopped at the edge of the wrestling mat. Weakened by energy drain, her muscles quivered as she planted her hands on the mattress, curled her legs beneath her, and pushed herself upright. “Forge?”
“Aye, lass.”
“You can do this.” Exhaustion lining her features, thinner than a few days ago, she met his gaze. “I’m trusting you to see it through . . . no matter what happens.”
Throat gone tight, unable to speak, he nodded.
“Let’s go.” With more determination than strength, Tania swung her feet over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched down. Using the bed rail for balance, she stood, looked from Gage to him, then gestured to the table. “I need help moving him, guys. Could you—”
“You’re not lifting a finger. Up onto the table, Tania,” Gage said, stepping around the end of the metal footboard. “Forge and I will move him.”
“Please be careful. Don’t touch his tattoo,” she said, entreaty in her tone. “He’s in a lot of pain.”
Doing as she asked, he and Gage muscled her mate over to the padded tabletop. But shite, it wasn’t easy. Mac was heavier than hell. Stood to reason. Packed with muscle, standing well over six feet tall, none of the Nightfury warriors were lightweights, but . . . Jesus. An unconscious Mac tipped the scale, and as Gage grumbled and he growled in exertion, struggling not to brush against his best friend’s tattoo, uncertainty crept into view. Faith swept it aside. Tania trusted him. The rest of the pack was counting on him. Hope needed him to guide her through the process, so . . .
Fuck his insecurities.
Settling Mac on the table, Gage stepped away.
Forge stayed and, leaning down, grasped the back of Mac’s neck. He squeezed gently. “Hold on, brother. I’m going tae make it right. Get you what you need.”
Still unconscious, Mac bared his teeth on a growl.
He nodded. Good enough. Mac’s dragon half had heard him. Even now, the beast would be readying, preparing for whatever Forge threw at him. Releasing his friend, he nailed Tania with a serious look. “You too, lass. Hold on tight. Whatever happens, donnae let go.”
Astride Mac’s hips, Tania settled in, taking her position on the tabletop. “Thank you.”
With a nod, Forge turned to the other females clustered around the table. Heart in his eyes, he held Hope’s gaze and unleashed a stream of magic. The bond he shared with her sparked. She shivered. He strengthened the connection, lending her his strength, warming her with his heat, flooding her with all the love he felt for her. He felt her link in, grab hold, accepting all he gave her. Tears sheened her eyes as he touched her mind. He murmured in reassurance. Her shoulders square, she leveled her chin and drew a deep breath. Forge did the same, then looked away, struggling to stay calm as he tipped his chin and gave Angela the green light.
Taking his cue, Angela moved into position, leading the group.
He backed away and stepped off the mat. As they formed a semicircle around the table, Angela reached out and clasped Hope’s hand. J. J. and Evie followed suit, reaching out, linking up until all four women held hands. Connected now, energy started to hum, supercharging the air as J. J. closed the circuit and locked palms with her sister. Taking a deep breath, Tania offered her free hand to Angela. The last in the chain, Angela glanced at Rikar and, taking a deep breath, grasped Tania’s wrist, covering her pulse point.
The snap of combined energy buzzed in the room, raising the fine hairs on his skin.
The females breathed in, breathed out, and acting as one, tapped into each other’s bio-energy. Electricity arced among the five. With a deafening crack, the door into the cosmic stream blew open. Magic bled from the portal, pouring into the gym. The Meridian rose in a monstrous wave. Bio-energy thundered, overtaking the room. Light-filled rings appeared around the table. Burning bright, each one pulsed as the Meridian screamed. The blue bands throbbed once, twice, a third time, throwing explosive heat into the room and—
The rings detonated.
A deafening crack ripped through the air.
The blast blew Forge off his feet. He slammed into the hospital bed. Metal groaned as the bed tipped over, banging against the floor. He landed on his ass in a heap beside the bed. Ears ringing, light fixtures creaking above his head, he struggled to his knees. His gaze landed on the circle.
Bleeding energy in the center of a cosmic storm, long hair whipping in circles, Tania threw her head back. Lips parted on a gasp, she became the conduit, funneling all the energy into Mac.
Arching beneath her, Mac roared.
Angela yelled, telling everyone to hold on.
Mac’s tattoo pulsed, beating like a heartbeat, then . . . stilled. Time slowed. The energy expanded and contracted. Red drained from the tribal marking on his friend’s skin, smoothing out, turning the color of polished silver. The cosmic storm stilled as an eerie fog rose above Mac’s chest.
Silence descended. No one moved. He could hardly breathe.
A mind-splitting shriek tore through the gym.
Pain ripped across Forge’s temples. His vision blurred. Pressing his hands over his ears, Forge fell back on his ass. Fuck, that hurt. So much he couldn’t make himself move. Getting his feet under him seemed an impossibility, but Christ, he needed to reach Hope. She was over there . . . somewhere. All the females were and—
A form materialized inside the brume.
Vertical pupils aglow, the wren pushed outward, materializing over Mac. Blue-gray scales gleaming, the miniature dragon bared his fangs. He hissed, the daggerlike spikes around his neck rising like hackles as he screamed again.
Nightfury warriors cursed, the sound bringing each one to his knees.
Fear joined the agony throbbing through Forge’s veins. “Hope—move! Everyone—move back! Get the hell—”
The wren screamed a third time.
More groans echoed inside the gym.
“Stop it—right now,” Tania said, her tone clipped. “You’re hurting everyone’s ears.”
Grabbing the overturned hospital bed, Forge pulled himself off his ass and looked across the gym. Shite. Nothing but haze. He couldn’t see a fucking thing. Blinking rapid-fire, Forge cleared the blur away and forced himself to focus.
On her feet beside the table, Tania faced off with the wren.
His scaled lip curled, exposing a fang.
Tania held her ground, refusing to retreat, and stared down the miniature dragon. “Now, you listen here. Back off until Mac—”
“Motherfuck.” With a snarl, Mac rolled off the table. His feet landed with a thump. Aquamarine eyes aglow, his friend stepped in front of Tania and, using his body to shield her, reached out. His hand caught hold, curling around one of the wren’s horns. “Exshaw, settle down.”
Faced with a command given by his master, the miniature dragon turtled, rolling onto his back, exposing his belly, playing submissive to Mac’s dominant. Relief grabbed Forge by the balls. Thank God. It was over. The energy circle had worked. Mac was alive. Gratitude tightened his throat. He watched his friend sway on his feet for a moment. But as Tania came to his rescue, slipping beneath Mac’s arm to lend support, reaching out to introduce herself to the wren, a different worry struck Forge.
Scanning the mat, he searched for his female. “Hope?”
“Here,” she said, crawling out from behind a table leg.
His heart clenched, then released as another round of relief hit him. Ears still ringing, a blinding headache forming, he planted a hand on the floor and pushed to his feet. His knees threatened to give out. Forcing strength into his legs, he wove an unsteady path toward her. Unwilling to wait for his arrival, she scooted across the floor. Halfway across the mat, she reached for him. Forge didn’t hesitate. He let his knees buckle. The second his arse hit the floor, he lifted her into his lap.
His hands moved over her.
She started to tremble.
With a rumble of reassurance, he caressed her everywhere, stroking her skin, searching for injuries, settling his fears. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispered over and over, burrowing into him, trying to get closer, asking without words to be held. He didn’t deny her. Couldn’t deny himself. It was as it always would be—she was the center of his universe. His sun and moon, every star in his sky. And as he tucked her close, listening to the hum of mated males soothe their own females, he thanked the goddess, not only for Mac’s safe return, but also for the female nestled like a gift in his arms.