Now…now, he didn’t know what the hell to think.
Keira was alive.
But she wasn’t the same bad-ass female who’d been the leader of the Hunters.
Once she’d stood tall and proud, her body lean but powerful. Her dark hair had been threaded with hints of fire and her skin kissed with a deep honey tone. And her eyes had been a magnificent gold with starbursts of emeralds in the center.
Now her hair was limp, her skin pale, and her eyes so dull he barely recognized her. Even worse, her mind was obviously broken to the point she couldn’t even remember him.
But she was alive.
His cat snarled deep inside him, struggling to reach out to the woman who’d once touched him at his most primitive level.
His emotions were a dangerous brew of elation, shock, guilt, and overall a murderous rage at whoever was responsible for keeping this exquisite woman locked in a cage like a fucking animal.
Keeping himself from exploding was taking everything he had as they traveled silently through wetlands surrounding Melton, the dusk turning to night as they left behind civilization and eventually arrived at the edge of the Wildlands
Which explained why he hadn’t immediately noticed, when he passed over the magical border, that she’d halted on the other side.
Belatedly realizing she was no longer behind him, Bayon whirled around to discover her crouching at the edge of their territory, that look of terror marring the beauty of her face.
His heart twisted as he cautiously made his way back to her shivering form. He could sense her bone-deep weariness, but this was more than just collapsing in exhaustion.
She was being tormented by some inner demon.
“Keira?” He kept his voice soft. “What is it, honey?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
He reached out to stroke a hand over her dark head, only to yank it back. She’d asked him not to touch her.
It was a request he intended to honor.
“Remember what?” he prompted.
“Anything.” She frowned, her fingers twisting together as she stared at the lands that she’d once known with the intimacy of a lover. Her duty as the leader of the Hunters meant she’d patrolled every inch of the Wildlands. Night after night. “No, that’s not right. I have memories, but they’re like puzzle pieces I can’t put together.” There was a long pause, her heavy breathing emphasizing the effort it was taking not to bolt in terror. “How long?”
Bayon frowned. “What?”
“How long was I gone?”
He grimaced. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Not until she was stronger.
“Keira—”
“How long?”
“Twenty-five years.”
“Fuck.”
He crouched beside her. “It’s going to be all right.”
There was a flash of fire in the dull eyes. It was a painful reminder of the old Keira.
“Don’t patronize me.”
He bit back a curse. Dammit. They didn’t have time for this. She was sick, and exhausted, and in dire need of shifting.
“Keira, I don’t know what the hell happened to you, but I can sense that your cat has been forced into hibernation. The only way to heal you is to get you into the Wildlands.”
She licked her lips, her heart pounding so loudly he feared it would attract the natural predators of the swamp.
“I know I need it.”
He inched closer, hoping the proximity of his cat could offer comfort. “But there’s something that bothers you?”
“It frightens me.”
“I’ll take you to Parish,” he promised. The two siblings had been closer than most since they’d been destined to be Hunters together. “No one will bother—”
“I can’t.” She reached out, her nails sinking into the flesh of his arm. “Not Parish.”
Bayon frowned. “Do you remember him?” he asked.
“I…it’s beginning to come back, but it’s still fuzzy.” She bit her lower lip, her fear palpable in the air. “Please, don’t make me do this.”
He tilted his head so he could hold her skittish gaze. “Easy, Keira.”
“Not Parish.”
“Then a Healer.”
“No.” Her nails dug deeper, the scent of his blood filling the air. “Only you.”
“Honey, there’s no way I can keep your return a secret.” He tried to calm her rising hysteria.
There was a choked sound, as Keira turned her head to hide her expression. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m broken.”
A dagger being shoved into his heart would have been less painful than those low, traumatized words.
“No,” he snarled, his body vibrating with emotion. “Keira, you’re a miracle.”
“That’s not what they’ll see. They’ll want to try and fix me. Or worse, they’ll lock me away.”
“I would never let them hurt you.”
“There’s something else. Something…” She shook her head. “Please, Bayon, I’m not ready.”
The brief flare of joy as his name unconsciously slipped from her lips was crushed by her heartrending plea.
“Shit.”
Bayon wasn’t modest. He had any number of talents, not the least of which was the ability to directly connect with the inner cat of his people. It was a rare skill that was particularly useful when dealing with a Pantera who’d gone feral. But he wasn’t a Healer. Hell, his bedside manner would have him run out of the faction within the first day.
Unfortunately, Keira was depending on him.
For now he’d have to take on the role of caregiver.
He glanced toward the Wildlands, knowing he had to get Keira into the magic of their home. But how could he keep her presence a secret? Parish would scent her…
Parish.
Of course.
“The caves,” he muttered. “Parish is busy organizing the Hunters, not to mention caring for his mate.” He grimaced. Parish had hauled all of Keira’s possessions to the caves where they’d played as children, refusing to dispose of them no matter how many years passed. “No one will notice you’re inside unless they come looking.”
She turned back to study him with an unsettling intensity. As if she were trying to determine if he could be trusted.
“You’ll keep them away?”
He gave a slow nod. Parish and the others would kick his ass when they discovered he’d kept the stunning truth from them, but right now all that mattered was getting Keira home so she could be healed.
“Yes.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.” There could be no mistaking his sincerity and she gave a slow, hesitant nod. Then, moving until they were nose to nose, he held her gaze. “But once I release your cat, Parish will sense the bond. The only way to keep your presence a secret is to imprint myself on you.”
Long ago, a Pantera parent could deny a potential mate for one of their children. The elders had forbidden the practice, but in olden days the purity of bloodlines had been far more important and there were families who were willing to condemn their child to a life separated from their destined mate rather than dilute their pedigree.
Of course, a Pantera male desperate to claim his lover couldn’t be easily denied. They discovered a way to smother the family bond with their own scent. It was temporary, but it allowed the pair to avoid their family long enough to discover if they were truly meant to be mated.
Over time it had developed into a declaration of love between couples who weren’t yet prepared to become fully mated.
Like humans becoming engaged.