I healed for hours that afternoon, long into the night. I took breaks, of course, for dinner, to feed and spend time with Rafe, and to consult with Cora about our next steps. But then I was back to it—talking to the men, assessing their injuries, using my gift to heal them.

It was incredible how much I accomplished. By the time Sinclair placed his hands on my shoulders, looking proud but stern, I felt as if half the room of terribly wounded men had been completely healed, and the others were well on their way.

"Enough, trouble," Sinclair murmured, and I gasped, twisting to look up at him. "What?" I asked, confused. "But there's so much more—"

"Enough," he said, shaking his head. "It's ten o'clock—"

"What?" I gasped, truly surprised. I had no idea time had passed so quickly. I honestly thought it was earlier.

"Please," he said softly, low enough that only I could hear. "Stop now, Ella. They'll all survive the night. They'll make it until morning, when you can start again."

I stopped, trying to listen to him, but as I looked around the room, I felt guilty. How could I let these men go to sleep in pain? How could I possibly curl up in my own bed, comfortable with my mate and my baby, knowing they wouldn't be able to sleep because they were hurt protecting my son? If I just pushed a little further, I could heal them.

"That's it," Sinclair snapped, perhaps sensing my guilt and anxiety. Before I could protest, he scooped me into his arms, shaking his head.

"Dominic!" I protested, frowning up at him. "Put me down! I'm not even tired yet! I can—"

"Ella," he said, his voice still stern, "you have done enough for one day. And you don't know what toll this gift takes on your body, or if it takes a toll on itself. Does it need to regenerate? Do you need to sleep for three days to rebuild your strength?"

I hesitated, realizing he had a point. We had no idea how it worked, if there would be a cost to me. Honestly, considering that, I was surprised he let me work as long as I did.

"Moderation, little mate," he murmured, turning me toward the door where Cora waited with little Rafe curled in her arms.

"We'll start again tomorrow," Cora said, smiling and handing me my baby even though I was still held lightly in Sinclair's arms. "You did amazing today, Ella!" I grinned, happy to see her excitement mirrored in my own. The things we could do with this power…

But Sinclair nodded to Cora and carried me from the room, even as I called goodbyes and goodnights to the men. He didn't put me down until we reached our little metal bedroom door—and then, I think, only because neither of us had a free hand to turn the doorknob.

"In," he urged once the door was open, pressing a hand to my lower back and ushering me inside. I did as he said, cooing to Rafe, who burbled sleepily. As soon as I got the baby ready for bed, Sinclair took my hand and directed me toward the bathroom.

"So bossy tonight," I laughed, letting him guide me. He shot me a little glaring smile over his shoulder as he brought me into the bathroom. He didn't turn on the lights—and I was glad; the bathroom only had horrible fluorescent light bulbs. Instead, he turned on the shower in the dark and began to undress. Then, he peeled off my clothes piece by piece and nudged me toward the shower.

I stepped into the steaming water and took a deep breath. Sinclair followed, wrapping his arms around me and letting me rest against him as the hot water relaxed me, letting me realize how tired I really was.

"How do you feel?" Sinclair murmured, his voice barely audible above the water.

"Tired," I sighed, winding my arms around him, enjoying the press of his wet skin against mine. "You were right. I'm more tired than I thought I was."

"Is it bad?" he asked, tensing slightly. "Do we need to—"

"No," I interrupted, shaking my head. "It's a good tired—like after a busy day. But you're right—my adrenaline was running high. It's good to take a minute."

Sinclair murmured his affirmation, and then moved away to get some supplies. Then, to my delight and surprise, he began to soap my body, his movements soft but efficient.

"It's incredible what you can do, Ella," Sinclair said as he worked the soap over my back. "But we have to be careful with it. Both for any toll it takes on your body and…"

I opened my eyes, turning toward him. "And?" I asked, confused. "And what?"

"Ella," he sighed, looking down at me. "I'm worried that… well, that if people find out what you can do…"

"Oh," I said, my eyes widening. I looked toward the door, to where our baby slept. I suddenly wanted to see him again. "You think that…"

"I think that if everyone knew what you could do," Sinclair confirmed gently, "people would want to direct you to use the gift as they see fit. By force, if necessary."

My face fell as I realized he was right. The disappointment I felt—that some would see this gift as a point of control instead of a way to help—sank my heart. I felt exhaustion, disappointment, and a terrible yearning for things to be better.

"It's all right," Sinclair whispered, pulling me close again, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to believe him. "It will be all right."

"So, we'll keep it a secret," I said quietly after a few moments. "Not forever, though, yes?" I asked, looking up at him. "Sinclair—I can't keep this to myself forever, not if it can help people. I can't live like that."

"I know, love," he murmured, looking into my face in the dim light. "But until we have more control…"

I nodded. "Until we have more control."

Sinclair watched me carefully the next morning as I changed, fed Rafe, and started the day.

"I feel fine!" I said, smiling and laughing, knowing he was waiting for me to collapse.

"And the gift?" he asked as he stood from the bed, still wary. "Does it feel… I don't know… intact?"

I paused, closing my eyes and checking in on myself. "It feels," I said, considering, truly trying to assess. Then I opened my eyes and shrugged. "Honestly, Dominic, it feels like it always has. I don't feel like any of it was lost healing the men, if that's what you're asking. I don't think it works like that."

"How do you think it works?" Sinclair asked, moving to the small table that held our clothes and beginning to dress.

"I think the gift is an expression of the Goddess's love," I said, picking Rafe up from the little table we used as his changing table. "I think it's limitless."

"Interesting," Sinclair murmured, pulling on a shirt. He opened his mouth to say more, but there was a knock at the door. Frowning, Sinclair opened it to reveal Henry, his face serious.

"Hello, Henry," I called, moving over and turning Rafe so grandfather and grandson could say good morning. Henry smiled at Rafe, but it was short-lived.

"Good morning, Ella, Dominic," he said. "Would you be so kind as to come to the conference room? We have much to discuss."

"Oh," I said, looking at Sinclair. "I was going to go to the medical room—"

"I understand you're doing important work there, Ella," Henry said, leaning forward. "I won't keep you long. But please—it's important. Roger and Cora are already there."

"We'll be there," Sinclair said, nodding to his father. "Just a minute to finish getting dressed. All right?"

Henry nodded and rolled his chair away, heading back to the conference room, as I looked up at Sinclair in wonder.

What on earth could be happening now?