“Summer, you’re hurt—let me help!”
“How, exactly,” she said through gritted teeth, swearwords bouncing off the inside of her skull like slung stones, “were you planning to help?” Blood dripped out of the gash on the top of her arm, and her body tensed and twitched in tune with the high, sharp hum of pain.
Isaac edged closer to her, gently resting his hand on her wrist. “I can help with the pain,” he whispered, focussing himself. Sure enough, his veins turned black as he took away a bit of her discomfort. Some of the pain she was feeling entered Isaac but he didn’t care. She was pack, he cared about her.
“How?” she started to snap, and then he was touching her, and the pain seeped away. Literally seeped, running into his skin and veins and sliding away into him, and she gaped for a second before snapping her mouth shut.
“Are they gone?” she asked instead. She needed to put pressure on the slice to stop it bleeding, but it was too long to just compress with one hand. They had to get back home before she could do anything about it.