Somehow, she was both Slayer and Theronai—something that definitely bore deeper investigation.

Too bad it wasn’t she who needed healing, or Ronan could have used that excuse to delve into her mind and determine exactly how it was possible that she would straddle two races so seamlessly.

By the time he was at the bottom of the hill, Lyka had visibly weakened. He could smell the destruction of her body on a cellular level as she channeled Joseph’s power. He was in even worse shape—unconscious, his heart stuttering against the loss of blood.

If Ronan didn’t do something now, not only would Joseph die, but there was also a chance he’d take Lyka with him.

“Stop!” he yelled at her as he made his way to her side.

She didn’t seem to hear him—didn’t so much as turn his way. Her eyes were closed. Sweat trickled down her temples. Her skin had gone so pale that he swore he could see through it, when the sparks between her and Joseph lit beneath her fingers.

He knew there was a chance he could injure her if he pulled her away from her task, but injury was far preferable to death. And that was exactly where she was headed.

Clearly, healing was not this woman’s gift.

“You need to stop.” Ronan put his hand on hers, shaking her.

She tightened her grip on Joseph, digging her fingernails into his skin. He tried to pry her fingers away, but she was far stronger than a female Theronai had any right to be—a gift from her Slayer side, no doubt.

As her body continued to suffer the ill effects of her effort, Ronan was left with no other choice. He had to separate them.

He commanded his body to strengthen so he had the leverage to tear the couple apart. It took a monumental effort, but he was finally able to use brute force to get her to let go.

She flew through the air, landing a few feet away. Ronan hoped he hadn’t hurt her, but he would deal with that damage in a moment. Right now he had to concentrate on Joseph, who was mere seconds from death.

Ronan dove into his work, repairing the blood vessels and tissue the sword had severed. He slowly removed the metal blade, easing it out of the man’s flesh as fast as he dared.

There was no time for him to linger in Joseph’s mind and examine his thoughts, but there were some things that came through loud and clear all the same.

Joseph was burdened by his position. There were so many needs his people had—so much suffering. He took all of that into himself, putting the weight of everyone’s problems on his broad shoulders. He worked endless hours, exerting himself to the point of exhaustion. The signs of it were written all through his body, all the way down to his very cells.

No wonder Lyka hadn’t been able to undo the damage done to him; it was too extensive, far more than a mere battle wound.

Still, despite Joseph’s fatigue, there was a growing sense of hope in him. He’d found Lyka. She’d given him something precious—something he was determined never to let go.

Ronan finished his work, restoring as much of Joseph’s strength as he dared. Every bit of energy Ronan exerted was that much less he had to spend on finding his savior—and he had to find her. Joseph had lost too much blood to be of any use in helping to restore Ronan’s power, which meant he would have to find the energy he needed elsewhere.

He pulled out of Joseph’s unconscious body and turned his sights on Lyka.

She was young. Strong. She could feed him and give him what he needed to carry on.

With exquisite care, Ronan lifted her from the ground and carried her back to Joseph’s side. The smell of blood was thick here, making his hunger rise.

He held her in his arms, shifting her weight so that her neck was exposed to him.

She groaned and opened her eyes. “Ronan?”

He stilled in the act of lowering his mouth to her throat. Light from his eyes spilled over her face, making her eyes glow like golden flames. “Yes.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Is Joseph okay?”

“He will be. I arrived just in time.”

She let out a long breath of relief. “I tried to help, but it didn’t work.”

“You kept him alive long enough for me to reach him. Without you, he would have died.”

She became more alert by the second, shaking off the ill effects of her efforts to heal Joseph. She glanced over at him, saw he was sleeping, then looked back at Ronan as if realizing for the first time that she was in his arms. “You don’t look so good.”

“I need to feed,” he said, hoping she understood that it wasn’t a request.

“On me.”

“There is no one else. Joseph is too weak.”

She nodded, but he could smell the sickly sweet stench of fear coming from her pores. “I’ve never let this happen before.”

“It won’t hurt,” he reassured her. “Just close your eyes and it will be over in a moment.”

She did as he asked and Ronan took what he so desperately needed from her.

Her blood was hot, like all of the Slayers’, but it had the thrumming power of a Theronai. Within seconds, he felt his body began to revive and his hunger subside. Feeding from her—being the first to do so—was a special kind of high. There was so much untapped power within her. Even as weak as she was from her ordeal, she still had more life in her than any he’d ever tasted before.

Except for the woman who’d saved his life. Drinking from her was like consuming pure energy—sweet and intoxicating.

Before memories of that day could torment him, he pushed them aside and put his focus on Lyka.

Her mind was a jumble of emotions and fears. She’d been hiding her identity for so long, the worry of being found out had left a scar in her emotions as deep as a trench. Now that worry of hiding her Theronai side had turned to worry that her Slayer kin would shun her once news of what she was came out.

She felt like she belonged nowhere.

Ronan did what he could to ease her concerns. His people needed as many whole, healthy Theronai partnerships as they could get. Now that their men were no longer sterile, the hope of children loomed bright on the horizon. Those children were the best hope the Sanguinar had for survival. If Lyka was worried about not fitting in, she wasn’t going to be as inclined to bring a child into the world.

That was something Ronan could not allow.

He was careful in his tinkering. Too much force would cause her psyche to crack. Not enough would leave her feeling like an outcast, floating between worlds but never living in either one. In the end, all he did was plant a seed of curiosity in her, giving her a desire to know more about Joseph.