Alex came galloping into the square, bowling into my legs, grabbing at me with a frantic need. I pushed him off me, gently, but with a firm insistence. “Hey, buddy.” I cleaned off my sword and slid it back into its sheath, then picked up my other one and did the same. O’Shea was right behind the werewolf, sword bared, eyes taking in the scene in one sweep. He didn’t lower his blade though, instead keeping it bared and ready. “Adamson?” “Yeah, I’m okay.” My leg ached where Jensen bit me, my back stung where my blade had bit in, and my body was still humming with the transition from freezing cold to hot, but she was dead and I wasn’t. Good all around. O’Shea made a move as if to hug me and I stiffened up. “I said I’m okay.” “You’ve got blood on your back.” He spun me around for a better look. “It doesn’t look too deep.” “Yeah, it’s fine.”
