“Shit,” I said, and moved forward, shoved a hand between them, put the flat of it against Connor’s bare abdomen. And in doing so, became the target of those fiercely blue eyes. “He didn’t do this. He saved me.”

Connor arched his eyebrows dubiously, slid that gaze back to Black. “Did he?”

“He did,” I said again. “He pushed me out of the way of the lightning.”

Connor watched him again for a moment. Black, for his part, knew better than to take on Connor, at least physically. We’d both beaten him at hand to hand.

“All right,” he said, and let Jonathan go. He didn’t stumble back or put space between him and Connor. He stayed where he was, straightening his shirt. Uncowed or unwilling to show it.

I cleared my throat. “You might want to find some clothes.”

Connor glanced down at himself, then up at the humans who were now watching with unhidden interest. He grinned that wolfish smile, and a few of them sighed.

Alexei found us then, a pile of fabric under one arm. He held it out. “Clothes.”

“Perfect timing,” I said, and glanced away to give Connor a moment of privacy while he pulled on gym shorts and a tank.

“Let’s give them a minute,” Alexei said, as he led Black a few feet away, shielding us from the humans.

And then we were mostly alone, and Connor’s arms were around me, his mouth on mine, to the mostly amused shouts of the humans around us. The kiss was a brand, a claiming. It was confirmation that we were safe and we’d made it through.

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispered.

“Honestly, maybe not,” I said, and my voice wobbled. Pain flooded back—emotional and physical—the entire, miserable night of it. “Crap.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You want me to tell you to buck up or let it out.”

“Let it out,” I mumbled into his shirt.

“Then do it,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

So many hurt. So much destroyed. So much fear and anguish and anger. And, I knew, so much more of that to come. I gripped his shirt with white-knuckled hands and let go of the emotions and the helplessness.

After a moment, when I’d let out all that I’d been holding, I took a haggard breath, wiped my eyes, patted half-heartedly at the tear stains on his shirt.

“It’s dark,” he said. “It’ll wash out.” He sniffed his shoulder. “Although I’m pretty sure Alexei found this shirt in the dirty laundry pile at the NAC gym.”

“Lies,” Alexei said, still nearby, and I decided not to mind that he’d seen me be vulnerable. He was a friend, too.

“So Rose is the demon. How did she do all this?” Connor asked, worried gaze on the chaos.

I moved, and the pain nearly buckled my knees. The hip was going to take some time. “I need to sit,” I told Connor when he reached out a hand to steady me. “I’ll tell you all about it, but I need to sit.”