There were ratios for mouth to mouth breathing, but I had no idea what they were. Twenty breaths a minute? Ten? Fifty? Five? Why didn’t Grey’s Anatomy cover these important details? And CPR included chest compressions, but a quick check told me his heart was still beating—for now.

Seriously, if Rage ever became alpha king, I’d make him change the curriculum at the academy. First-aid would be mandatory for all incoming students.

After sucking in a deep breath, I lowered my mouth to his and blew. A wet raspberry noise curdled the air around my ears. Obviously, that wasn’t right.

I probably needed to open his mouth. Wasn’t there something about the mouth in the ABCs of CPR? Was that tidbit of info from Grey’s? I had no idea, but it seemed reasonable, and I clung to the knowledge like a lifeline. I tugged on his chin, relieved when his lips parted. After another deep breath, I lowered my head and let my lips rest on his, then I exhaled into his open mouth. Halfway through, I realized I needed a better seal, including one over his nose.

Holy Mother Mage.

This was hard.

“Please,” I begged Rage’s unconscious form. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

What had made him take such a drastic dive downhill? Grandpa had said an hour. Dammit! Why did Rage jump in after me?

My only assurance that he wasn’t dead came because I didn’t see his spirit. I would’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind if I had. Once more, I took a deep breath, and then, while pinching his nose closed, I pressed my lips to his. With a forceful exhale into Rage’s mouth, I felt his chest rise.

Halle-frickin-lujah!

Tears rolled down my cheeks. After I blew into his mouth the next time, I tasted the salt from my tears when I licked my lips.

Wait—wait—wait! I blinked, trying to process through my panic. I glanced at my finger— The cut was sealed. So if my blood had somehow … I donno … healed him when I’d put a small bit in his mouth, then maybe more of it … would do better? Maybe I couldn’t think straight, but the idea of my blood having magic seemed plausible, considering Surlama’s greediness for it. And if a little on the tongue was good…

After another breath, I grabbed Rage’s dagger and sliced through my palm, hissing at the fresh sting. As soon as blood beaded on my skin, the glowing purplish hue reinforced my cray-cray plan. I drew the dagger over the wound again, making it deep enough that it wouldn’t heal right away. As the blood dripped onto his shirt, I opened his hand. After a deep breath, I dragged the blade over the meaty part of his palm and then smashed our hands together like we were making a blood pact.

This better work…

I stalker-stared at my mate, noting the rise and fall of his chest, the thrum of his pulse in his neck, the color of his skin. He looked better, but the seconds became minutes, which felt like an eternity. Was he going to wake up?

“Rage!” I shook him, desperation once again taking hold of me.

With a deep gasp, his eyelids flew open.

“You ass—” I hiccupped and choked on my own breath, then proceeded to sob and smack at him, while relief coursed through me. “I…” Cough, sob, smack. “…thought you were…” Cough. Smack. Hiccup. “…dead.”

He rubbed his chest but was grinning. “Me too,” he said hoarsely. “I couldn’t breathe.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know what you did, but … thanks for saving me.”

I forced a swallow and drank him in. His color was slightly improved, not so ashy but still pale.

His wide eyes shone like emeralds, and his gaze dipped to my lips as his pulled up into a smirk. “I’m still feeling a bit off. I might need another round of CPR.”

I rolled my eyes. He nearly died, and all he could think about was kissing?

“I-I think it’s my blood helping you.” I gave him a short accounting of the events and how my blood practically glowed here, my voice trembling as my adrenaline waned.

“Kinky.” He winked, his gaze heating as it caressed me. Rage gathered me into his arms, and I rested my head to his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.

Reaching out, I smacked his chest but couldn’t help the hysterical giggle mixed with tears of relief. “W-we n-n-need to f-focus.”

“One kiss, love,” he pleaded with a huskiness in his voice that was super hot. “I need to feel you here.” He tapped his chest, giving me a lopsided grin. “Then, I’ll focus.”

He leaned forward, and I brushed my lips against his in a chaste kiss and then pulled back. “We’re on a mission, so…”

He groaned, but it didn’t escape me that the kiss did improve his color. Or maybe it was the blood.

Thunder rumbled through the air again, only this time, it reverberated through my legs. I peered up at the sky only to find it remained clear and bright.

What the…?

Then I heard it, something I recognized from living in Montana. No wonder there were no clouds in the sky. That wasn’t thunder … it was the pounding hooves of horses.

I scrambled up, tugging on Rage and hissing under my breath, “Someone’s coming—”

“Who are you?” a deep male voice sliced through the air from behind me.

I yipped in surprise, and only then did Rage climb to his feet, slower and more labored than normal.

“Who is that?” Rage asked, his hand balling into fists as his attention darted first to the left and then the right before facing me with a frown. He squinted at the air and then shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Shaking my head, I pointed at the four horsemen who loomed over us, three of them still on their mounts. Each of them was dressed in monochromatic colors, one each in red, black, white, and green. Despite their chiseled features and jacked bodies, there was something cold and decidedly other about the riders—enough to make my skin crawl. The one in red had dismounted, and he glared at us.

There was no point in asking Rage what I already knew. “You can’t see them, but there are horsemen here.”

I pushed Rage’s fists, hoping he would take the hint. ‘Please don’t attack them.’

‘The spirits?’ Rage asked in response. ‘They’re so transparent I can barely see them. Do you think they can hurt us?’

I froze, my entire body seizing up, but not because he could see the souls—although that was unexpected. His voice … was in my head!

‘Can you hear me?’ I hurled the question at him, shocked by this potential development. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe there was something more to our blood-to-blood contact.

‘Yes,’ Rage told me with the freaky mind speak thing … like when we were wolves except more conversant.

I needed someone—most likely my new-to-me grandfather—to explain all this magic. Mate magic, mage magic. None of it made any sense right now.

“I said, who are you?” the horseman snarled, stepping toward us.

He reached for a scythe, and I elbowed Rage in the side. ‘Follow my lead.’

I raised my hands up in surrender. “We’ve come to the Realm of the Dead to negotiate with the Keeper of Souls. Will you please take us to him?”

The horseman barked a laugh. Waving at Rage and me, he said to his companions, “They think they can negotiate with the Keeper.”