letdown didn’t last. Her arm was lifted and a warm
pair of lips settled against her flesh. Lips? Before she
could think on it further, sharp twin points pierced her
skin, and a silent cry lodged in her chest. She couldn’t
scream, and even if she could make a sound, it wouldn’t
be from agony.
The greatest pleasure she’d ever known shot through her
veins. Spread liquid heat to every part of her and
detonated into a million shards of white-hot crystal, then
solidified into a golden cord. She should’ve been
frightened, but she wasn’t. The cord bound her firmly to
the stranger. Her stranger, and yet it seemed she knew him
somehow. She struggled to capture the memory, but it
escaped.
The sharp points withdrew and she felt bereft, but not as
badly as before. She could handle it now because she
sensed him hovering close. Watching over and protecting
her. How could she know this? But she did. Secure in the
knowledge that all would be well, she drifted. Fell into a
deep abyss.
When she surfaced again, it was to the sensation of
floating, and an occasional rocking motion. The movement
made her nauseated, but she was too weak even to throw
up. Just as bad was the deafening noise threatening to split
her aching head in two. It dawned on her that she was
being transported, and the rapid whump-whump sound told
her she was in a helicopter.
Flying. Another reason to be sick, if she had the energy.
She was an earth-loving girl. If she’d been meant to fly,
she would have been born with feathers. Her distress
must’ve been apparent somehow, because a man’s gentle
hand stroked her hair, caressed her face. She wondered
whether he was speaking to her, too, though there was no
way to tell over the racket from the aircraft.
Despite the noise, her sickness, and fear, darkness
pulled her into the depths again. She surfaced once more,
when the helicopter landed, and there was a flurry of
activity as she was rushed into some sort of building. A
hospital? Her brief glimpse of it gave the impression that
it wasn’t like any hospital she’d ever seen. The area
outside seemed rural, lots of trees. No parking lot filled
with cars, no activity.
Strange. But all of that was swept away when, inside,
she was rolled into a small, sterile room and a pretty
woman—doctor?—with long, curly brunette hair smiled
down at her.
“Miss Bradford? Just relax. We’re going to take care of
you, and you’ll feel better soon. I promise.” She patted
Daria’s arm. “Do you understand?”
She nodded. Or thought she did. Then the good drugs
must’ve kicked in, and she knew nothing else for a very
long while.
• • •
The Huey landed and Ryon jumped out, watching
helplessly as the medical team whisked Daria out of the
transport. He jogged after them as they rushed the gurney
through the double doors, down the hallway to the
infirmary, and into one of the trauma rooms. There,
however, he was blocked by Noah, who placed one palm
on Ryon’s chest.
“Sorry, man. You have to stay out here,” he said firmly,
not without sympathy. “Better yet, head back to the waiting
area.”
“But—”
“No buts. We’ll let you know how she’s doing soon.”
The nurse wasn’t going to be budged. Worse, Ryon was
holding the man up from doing his job. With a sigh, he
gave in. “All right. But let me know the second you can
tell me how she’s doing.”
“You bet. Don’t worry, okay?” With an encouraging
smile, the nurse disappeared.
“Dammit!” Raking a hand through his hair, he made his
way back to the waiting room. Frustrated, he paced like a
caged animal for several minutes, until Aric showed up,
Rowan with him.
“You’ve gotta settle down or you’re gonna give
yourself a stroke,” the red wolf observed. “Sit.”
“I can’t. She’s back there, suffering, and there’s not a
goddamned thing I can do about it!”
Rowan stepped in front of him, clasped his
pair of lips settled against her flesh. Lips? Before she
could think on it further, sharp twin points pierced her
skin, and a silent cry lodged in her chest. She couldn’t
scream, and even if she could make a sound, it wouldn’t
be from agony.
The greatest pleasure she’d ever known shot through her
veins. Spread liquid heat to every part of her and
detonated into a million shards of white-hot crystal, then
solidified into a golden cord. She should’ve been
frightened, but she wasn’t. The cord bound her firmly to
the stranger. Her stranger, and yet it seemed she knew him
somehow. She struggled to capture the memory, but it
escaped.
The sharp points withdrew and she felt bereft, but not as
badly as before. She could handle it now because she
sensed him hovering close. Watching over and protecting
her. How could she know this? But she did. Secure in the
knowledge that all would be well, she drifted. Fell into a
deep abyss.
When she surfaced again, it was to the sensation of
floating, and an occasional rocking motion. The movement
made her nauseated, but she was too weak even to throw
up. Just as bad was the deafening noise threatening to split
her aching head in two. It dawned on her that she was
being transported, and the rapid whump-whump sound told
her she was in a helicopter.
Flying. Another reason to be sick, if she had the energy.
She was an earth-loving girl. If she’d been meant to fly,
she would have been born with feathers. Her distress
must’ve been apparent somehow, because a man’s gentle
hand stroked her hair, caressed her face. She wondered
whether he was speaking to her, too, though there was no
way to tell over the racket from the aircraft.
Despite the noise, her sickness, and fear, darkness
pulled her into the depths again. She surfaced once more,
when the helicopter landed, and there was a flurry of
activity as she was rushed into some sort of building. A
hospital? Her brief glimpse of it gave the impression that
it wasn’t like any hospital she’d ever seen. The area
outside seemed rural, lots of trees. No parking lot filled
with cars, no activity.
Strange. But all of that was swept away when, inside,
she was rolled into a small, sterile room and a pretty
woman—doctor?—with long, curly brunette hair smiled
down at her.
“Miss Bradford? Just relax. We’re going to take care of
you, and you’ll feel better soon. I promise.” She patted
Daria’s arm. “Do you understand?”
She nodded. Or thought she did. Then the good drugs
must’ve kicked in, and she knew nothing else for a very
long while.
• • •
The Huey landed and Ryon jumped out, watching
helplessly as the medical team whisked Daria out of the
transport. He jogged after them as they rushed the gurney
through the double doors, down the hallway to the
infirmary, and into one of the trauma rooms. There,
however, he was blocked by Noah, who placed one palm
on Ryon’s chest.
“Sorry, man. You have to stay out here,” he said firmly,
not without sympathy. “Better yet, head back to the waiting
area.”
“But—”
“No buts. We’ll let you know how she’s doing soon.”
The nurse wasn’t going to be budged. Worse, Ryon was
holding the man up from doing his job. With a sigh, he
gave in. “All right. But let me know the second you can
tell me how she’s doing.”
“You bet. Don’t worry, okay?” With an encouraging
smile, the nurse disappeared.
“Dammit!” Raking a hand through his hair, he made his
way back to the waiting room. Frustrated, he paced like a
caged animal for several minutes, until Aric showed up,
Rowan with him.
“You’ve gotta settle down or you’re gonna give
yourself a stroke,” the red wolf observed. “Sit.”
“I can’t. She’s back there, suffering, and there’s not a
goddamned thing I can do about it!”
Rowan stepped in front of him, clasped his
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