My body feels like it's been used as a car crash dummy. Voices filter through the cotton stuffed between my ears, muffled and distant at first, then gradually sharpening into familiar tones. Angry tones.
"Absolutely not. Stay ten feet away at all times." Lyre.
An unmistakably familiar growl. "You aren't in charge here."
"No, but they are, and you're sucking her dry every time you make contact. Keep your damn mutt off her, too."
A snarl. Definitely Fenris.
"Stop looking at me like that. You're a mutt without manners."
Consciousness hovers just out of reach, and honestly, slipping back into oblivion seems like the smart option. Nothing good waits in a room where Lyre and the Lycan King are squaring off. Death wish, party of one.
"Her energy is finally stabilizing, and you two want to go right in and take what she's gathered—"
"If touching hurts, why are you letting them touch her?"
"They're not feeding off her like she's an all-you-can-eat buffet."
