After hours of fighting, the thing that was going to take Gavriel Sterling down wasn't a death temple or a lava serpent or a vampire's claws. It was something he didn't tell anyone about when it happened.
She eased him onto the moss-covered ledge beside the pool, pulling him out of the water, laying him down on the soft green surface that lined the stone like nature had grown a gurney specifically for this moment.
Her hands trembled against his chest. His heartbeat was fast. Too fast. Hammering against her palm like it was trying to escape.
She felt his forehead first. He was fever-hot. The kind of temperature that burned against her fingers and made her stomach drop into her boots because outside of herself, wolves don't run fevers. That meant something was terribly wrong.
"Shit."
