Her right hand reached up slowly, adjusting her silver ear cuffs lower. Pressing them into the tender pressure points in the shell of her ears. Pain. She shuddered at the feeling. Good. Blood. Pain. Hunger. Focus. Another breath and Citlali focused on her cousin.
“Sedate her. Dreamless sleep and painless draught. Half a teaspoon of each,” she ordered, voice wavering but all business. Citlali all but dragged herself to the witch’s side using her good hand to gently prod the witch’s chest, biting back her curse. “Matt I have to remove her shirt. Her ribs are floating. I need Henrí to help me,” she warned the other man, not needing a mate attacking them during surgery.