Havermouth, Two Weeks BeforeThere were times when living secretly amongst humans was a disadvantage, Talen thought. The temptation to park the Ute and run was strong, both for the feeling of doing something and to avoid the seemingly intolerably slow crawl of traffic. Running, however, would be too risky, and so he gripped his steering wheel tightly as he drove within the speed limits towards the hospital.Morgana had been shot.There were so many fear filled questions running rampant in his head that he could not think straight, and as he drove, he found himself snarling, teeth bared, an adrenaline response to a threat.He would know, he told himself. He would feel it in his heart and soul, across the bond between them, if she had died. He was certain of it.Whilst she lived, there were options. He could give her his blood to heal the wound, or, if necessary, turn her. His werewolf mates would not object if it were life-saving. Even if Morgana turned as a weak vampire, as Meguitte h
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