The Stag Lord Read Online Free Page A

“You’ll cause more injury by moving him then by letting a trained professional—”
    â€œI know injuries and how to treat them, miss.” He nailed her with a glance. “And I would not put my son in danger without making certain I would not harm him further.”
    She acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    â€œI do.” He slid his hands under the boy. “Son, I’m going to move your arm. It will hurt.”
    â€œâ€˜Kay,” he whispered.
    The man paused, then spoke without looking at Shay. “Would you hold his other hand?”
    Shay shifted to the boy’s far side. She took his hand, noting how cold and clammy it felt. “You squeeze all you want, Cor. Okay?” The boy nodded.
    As the father eased the trapped limb free, the wail of pain made both man and woman wince. After laying the arm across the boy’s chest, the man peeled off his own T-shirt. “Help me sit him up. I’ll use this”—he indicated the shirt—“for a makeshift sling.”
    Focused on her patient, she nodded. “You could’ve used mine, but go ahead.” She looked up. “Let me hold—”
    Shay’s jaw sagged. For a split second, she couldn’t move, her eyes riveted on the tattoo decorating the man’s bare right shoulder. The Celtic knot formed an emerald spider web over the swell of muscle. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed. Her gaze traveled up. “I should’ve guessed.”
    â€œGuessed what?” Apprehension clouded the man’s face.
    Without speaking, Shay reached up and pulled her tank top lower to reveal the identical mark tattooed over her heart. “That you’re Fey, too.”

3
    A N INVISIBLE FIST SOCKED Bann in the gut. “I don’t know who or what you think I am, but—”
    â€œReally? You’re really going to try to convince me that you got that tat on a whim ?” The woman pointed her chin at his arm. “That’s the mark of our people.”
    Wanting to scoop Cor up in his arms and bolt, Bann shook his head. “You’re wrong. This is just a—”
    â€œAnd judging from its look”—she learned forward to peer more closely—“you had it done with a thorn.”
    â€œNo, I—”
    â€œBy a Druid. In the Old Way. Yeah, I’ve seen this before.” She nailed him with her gaze. “Nah, you’re Fey, like me. A Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan,” she declared, using the more modern pronunciation of tua day dhanna .
    â€œNo longer.”
    She started to speak, then, to his surprise, she simply nodded and pointed to her own tattoo. “You know I’m a Healer, right?”
    â€œI do now.”
    â€œThen will you let me help your son?”
    It was the whimper of pain and sudden spasm of Cor’s legs that made him nod. Without further words, he and the woman lifted the child and wrapped Bann’s shirt around him, tucking it tight and immobilizing the injured arm.
    â€œLay him back down. I want to make sure there aren’t any internal injuries.” The woman pulled a smooth white stone from her pocket and laid it on her open palm. Bann could see a hint of pink skin through the pebble’s translucent edges. It began to glow with a pale light as she cupped her fingers around it. “I’m Shay Doyle, by the way.”
    Bann tightened his lips at the sight of the moonstone every Tuatha Dé Danaan carried. “Bannerman Boru,” he said after a moment, wondering why he gave his full name. He eased Cor back down. “Almost done, lad.”
    â€œWanna go home.”
    â€œAnd we will. Soon.” Guilt gnawed at him over the words he had thrown in the boy’s face earlier.
    He watched the Healer as she held the moonstone between thumb and fingers, letting the beam spill over Cor. Her features were girl-next-door cute rather than the delicate