Free Entwined Enemies by Robin Briar

into account, when there isn’t enough air to fill your lungs.
    I’m already starting to feel faint. Even my thoughts are becoming fuzzy. I’m trying to stay awake by force of will, but the oxygen deprivation is getting to me. I can’t think straight.
    Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. How long have I been here? I hear scratching, but can’t tell where it’s originating, like it’s coming from everywhere all at once. That can’t be right. I close my eyes, unable to keep them open anymore.
    That’s when I feel the weight of all the crushing debris on me lessen for the first time. I still can’t move, but the burden against the magical barrier protecting me feels much lighter now. It’s hard to say for sure. It could also be delirium talking. Maybe this is what is feels like to die of asphyxiation?
    A shaft of light hits me. It’s blinding, but I can move again. I immediately take a full breath, and it feels divine. Have I really been saved? Maybe I didn’t make it. Maybe I’m ascending to the next life.
    Ascending? Really? I thought that maybe some kind of purgatory would be in store for me. Possibly worse.
    That’s when my eyes adjust. I’m looking up at a ceiling, but it’s two stories high, which is really high for a ceiling. The edges of my vision start to resolve. I realize I’m actually looking through a hole in one ceiling at the next roof above it.
    Right. Werewolf. Pillar. Flying appliances. Floor crashing on my head. I’m still alive.
    “I’m not dead,” I say.
    “Not if I can help it.”
    It’s Mason. I recognize his voice right away. He must have dug me out.
    “You found me.”
    “I know what you smell like,” he says, still lifting debris off me and throwing it to either side.
    “That’s because you’re a wolf. Have I told you how glad I am you’re a wolf? I’m so glad you’re a wolf.”
    “You’re rambling, but that’s a good sign,” he says with a smile.
    I can definitely see his face more clearly now. He’s filthy and disheveled, but intact. His eyes start to water as he looks down at me.
    “There’s not a scratch on you,” he says.
    “Of course not, silly. I cast a protection spell. The same one I cast on myself when we have sex.”
    My voice is light and playful. Kind of like my brain right now.
    Two brawny arms reach underneath me and pick me up out of the rubble. He holds me tightly against his chest.
    “You cast a protection spell on yourself when we’re together?”
    I throw my arms around his neck.
    “Well, yes, silly, but only when you get all wolfy and scratchy. How else do you think we can be together?”
    “I see,” Mason says. “That actually explains a lot.”
    My thoughts are still fluffy, but I’m starting to realize that maybe I should stop talking now.
    “Didn’t you know that already?” I ask, ignoring my own advice.
    “No. You told me something else, but that’s not important right now. I didn’t know you were a witch then. I do now.”
    I did say something else to him, didn’t I? I told Mason that despite how feral he becomes when we have sex, a part of his mind takes care of me. He expected me to be cut up or bruised after we had sex, but I never was, because of the spell. I lied about that.
    Now I’m alert.
    I swing my legs up out of his arms and land on my feet to face him more directly.
    “There’s a reason I told you what I did, and you deserve an explanation, but can we come back to that?”
    “Of course,” Mason says. “Now’s not that time. Let’s make sure your friends are all right first.”
    “Thank you.”
    I look around for Saffron first, who would have been clear of the rubble.
    “Saffron? Are you here?” I call out.
    “I’m over here,” she calls back.
    We leave the hallway where I was driven back by falling debris and make our way into the conjoined living room and kitchen. That’s when I spot Saffron digging through wood and metal in a corner of the room.
    There’s a massive hole in the