And I’d kissed him. Jaysus lord in heaven. I closed my eyes and leaned in my chair, and that was about as far as I could go.

“You need to sleep. We can talk more when you wake up.”

I’m not sure if he picked me up, or if I wandered over to that overstuffed couch, but a moment later I was lying down, the soft blanket over my body and tucked around my face as I snuggled deep into the cushions.

Sleep slammed into me, yes, slammed. I was out cold, and yet as deep as it was, I still dreamed.

Of Crash and Corb. Of Eric, and of Feish wringing her hands. Robert was there too—everyone was there. Eammon and the other mentors all looked sad. So sad.

I blinked and walked around them, trying to get their attention only to realize I couldn’t, which was when I realized why.

In the dream, I was dead.

Wake up. Now.

I jerked awake, sweat rolling down my face as I sat up and tried to figure out where I was.

Eric sat at his table, bent over a piece of paper, a few books splayed open around him. The sound of his pen scratching across the paper was the noise that I could say might have woken me up. But those words shifted inside my head.

Danger.

“Eric. We have to go.” I flipped off the blanket, struggled to get my legs moving as the cramping and tightness from all the running and training caught up to me. Advil, I needed an Advil, maybe a whole bottle. But whatever was pushing me was full on shoving me now, the feeling of danger riding me hard.

An instinct that was trying so very hard to keep me alive.

As if reading my mind, Eric shoved two pills at me. “We aren’t going anywhere until you take these. You moan in your sleep. You should have taken them before you passed out.”

I grabbed the pills, dry swallowed them, and then took his hand. “We have to go!”

“It’s fine, it was just a dream,” he said, but then he went still and cocked his head to the side.

I don’t know what it was, but whatever instinct I had said to get down. I yanked his hand hard and pulled him to the ground as the boom of several guns ripped through the air.

Something stung my left calf and I yelped and reached for the meat of my leg. Warmth oozed out around my fingers and I realized I’d been shot.

I’d been shot!

The gunfire eased off, and along with it, the feeling of danger slid out of the room. I lay there on the floor staring at Eric. “You think that was for you or for me?”

He blinked at me, and his round-rimmed glasses only adding to his resemblance to a startled owl. “That’s a good question.”

I held my free hand up, stopping him. The danger had eased, but there was the sound of footsteps running toward us. How the hell I could hear that over the pounding of my own heart I don’t know.

But I rolled onto my back, facing the only door of the house, and pulled my two knives as the door was kicked open. My left blade flew from my hand before I registered that the person in the doorway was not one I wanted to stick with my knife.

A flash of bright steel, end over end. Crash caught the blade handle, a mere inch from his face. “Good throw.”

“Better catch,” I breathed out, horror quickly replacing the adrenaline. Anyone else, I had no doubt, would have ended up with a blade in their face. “Are they still there?”

Crash shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

I sat up. “Eric, you got some wraps?”

“Oh, yes, of course, I have a first aid kit.”

Crash let himself the rest of the way in and crouched beside me. He handed my knife back and I put it away, thinking that everyone was acting very calm for the current situation. Nobody was running off half-cocked or flapping their hands in hysterics. Then again, everyone here was over forty.

Go middle-agers!

I pulled my pant leg up over my knee, hissing as it slid over the bullet hole. “Damn, at least it went right through.”

Crash’s hands slid around my leg, the heat from them increasing second by second. “Yes, a clean wound is the best outcome here.”

Eric knelt on the other side of me and pulled out a needle and thread. “Here, we can stitch this up.”

“I can fix it,” Crash said.

“And then she’ll owe you,” Eric said softly. “That needs to be her decision.”

Crash’s jaw ticked and then he slowly nodded. “You are correct. The law stands no matter what the circumstances.”

His words were strangely formal, but something else stood out to me more: he was holding my gaze in a way that made me think he didn’t want me to take him up on his offer. Weird, but I didn’t need to owe him anything else.

“I’ll take the stitches,” I said. Crash moved to leave and I grabbed his hand. “Yeah, you need to give me something to hang onto while he sticks me with the needle.”

His fingers wrapped around mine and I closed my eyes as Eric pushed the needle in through the screaming tender flesh around the bullet hole. Because the bullet had gone right through, he had to stitch both sides.

“Why are you here, Crash?” I asked. “Seems a little convenient that you show up and the shooter stops.”

“Terrible idea accusing him,” Eric whispered. But I opened my eyes and stared straight into Crash’s gaze.

“Well?”

Crash didn’t smile, his face was neutral. “I could ask you why you are sleeping out here with the bigfoot.”

“Guns first,” I said. I noticed he didn’t rush to explain himself. I mean, I could guess that he was still out there trying to get through to the item protected by the oak trees. But I wanted him to say it.

I wanted him to be honest with me about something.

Crash’s hand wrapped a little tighter around mine. “It smelled like a shifter to me. And moved like one too, but it felt . . . off. That’s the only word for it. As if there were magic involved. And then he was gone before I could get a read on what type of shifter he was.”

I snorted and then hissed as Eric pushed the needle through another layer of flesh. “Right, well, it seems that’s a given, magic being involved, that is.”

Crash’s lips twitched upward. “I mean that the shifter felt as though he’d been spelled hard.”

I didn’t quite understand what Crash meant by that, but the pain suddenly ratcheted up and my teeth clamped shut.

“Almost there,” Eric mumbled.

“I’m impressed,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’ve got big hands, but you are pretty quick with a needle.”

Eric smiled and blushed. “Thank you.”

Crash didn’t let go of me, his hand locking fingers with mine in a gesture that I couldn’t deny left me feeling a little breathless.

Stitched, with a brand new wrap around my leg and my pant leg back in place, I stood up, testing the leg.

There would be very little running for me tonight.

“I’ll take you back to my place,” Crash said, helping me stand.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Eric asked.

“I think you should come with her,” Crash said. “You don’t know who they were after.”

“I’d like to know who they were,” I pointed out as I hobbled to the door and peeked out. There was no sign of anyone, certainly no guns pointing at me, or at least none that I could see or sense. “And I can’t go home. I have training.”

Crash grunted. “You can barely walk.”

“Training isn’t all physical, you know that, right? If you’re stupid, all the running in the world won’t save you.” I attempted my eyebrow arch, still thinking that one day I’d manage the move. But that day was not today. Both eyebrows rose high.

I folded my arms. “Eric can come with me to the Hollows. He’ll be as safe there as anywhere.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Because it was a lie and I was no liar.

Crash’s eyes narrowed. “Something happened at the Hollows?”

I clasped my hands behind my back. “I’ll tell you on the way, how about that?”

At this point, did it matter who knew about Douche Canoe and his friend? I wasn’t sure. Eric knew, but Eric I could trust. And if Crash was working for Douche Canoe and his pasty little friend, what then? I mean, I knew he was making the crucible, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were his best buddies. But he might be obligated to say something to them. I couldn’t risk that.

Crash didn’t let go of me, but instead scooped me up into his arms and strode out the door, Eric trailing behind us.

“I can walk,” I said, though I’ll be honest, the whole being carried around thing was nice.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing us even closer.

“You could hobble at best, and you are already going to be late for your training. I can drop you off at the river, and Eric can help you get to the Hollows from there.” Crash’s voice rumbled not only in my ears but through my body, pressed to his chest as I was. “Unless it’s not safe at the Hollows?”

The urge to lock my legs around him rushed over me, and I closed my eyes as I fought off a wave of lust and libido that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Too tight,” Crash whispered, and I realized I’d tightened my hold on his neck.

“Sorry, sorry!” I shook my head. “And yes, it is safe at the Hollows. Just fine and dandy as always.”

The day was bright, the sun high, the birds singing, and yet I’d been shot. Eric and I were probably supposed to be dead. I looked back at him. He was a good guy, no matter that he was a shifter—a half-man, as my gran would have said. He smiled at me and hurried a few steps, his long legs eating the distance between us.

“So what happened at the Hollows?” he asked softly.

Crash slowed a little and I sighed. Damn it. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Two mages came by last night. They spelled all the mentors and the trainees. Because we interfered with Hattie’s ceremony, saving you.”

Eric’s face fell. “There is something I should tell you about that.”