that one doesn’t have to
be a shifter’s mate to benefit from the bite.” She paused.
“Maybe a human just has to possess a Psy ability.”
Ryon considered this, and nodded. “That could be the
connection. Maybe that’s why we survived the attack
when so many others didn’t.”
“Or it could be simply a thing between mates. Anyway,
it’s certainly a theory worth more study.”
“This is all fascinating, but—”
“I know, you want to see Daria. Impatient, aren’t you?”
She graced him with a full-fledged smile. “Noah’s putting
her into a room now, second one on the left. He’ll come
and get you when he’s done.”
“Thanks, Melina,” he said with feeling. “For
everything.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who’s got your work
cut out for you these next few weeks and months, getting
her settled in. Helping her accept a whole new reality. I
don’t envy you that task.”
Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she turned and walked
briskly away. In less than five minutes, Noah was there.
“You can see her now.” With a sympathetic smile, the
nurse left.
Somehow, walking into her room was the hardest thing
he’d ever done. For a long moment he stood inside the
door and studied the slender, battered woman on the bed.
She was lying on her back, lashes like black lace on her
high cheekbones. Her arms were on top of the covers, the
right one in a cast and sling resting on her stomach, and he
noted the scratches on the left arm weren’t quite as angry
and raw in appearance as they should be. Her color was
much improved, and he noticed for the first time that her
skin was a rich bronze, whether from being outdoors a lot
or from her heritage, he could only guess. Maybe a bit of
both.
As he moved closer and took a seat beside the bed, he
was relieved to see that her breathing was deep and even.
She seemed to be at peace.
He worried about how long that would last.
For several long moments, he contemplated Melina’s
parting words, that she didn’t envy him the task ahead.
Daria might forgive him, but getting there probably would
not be a joyride.
Despite his relief at seeing her already healing, the first
hint of trepidation seeped through like black sludge.
Daria had to forgive him. Had to. The alternative was
unthinkable.
• • •
I shouldn’t be alive.
That was Daria’s initial thought as she blinked into the
sunlight filtering through the crack in the blinds in the
sterile room. Yes, she was completely positive she had
been dying out in that isolated stretch of wilderness, lying
broken at the bottom of a ravine.
How am I here? How?
Gradually, bits and pieces returned. Rescuers had found
her. He had been among them, the one she sought. Talking
to her, encouraging her to live. What was his name?
Her thoughts were sluggish, but she finally recalled she
didn’t know it. As more of the fog lifted, she realized that
her vision of him being attacked hadn’t revealed that piece
of information. Nor had they exchanged names when she’d
come to him astrally and begged for help. Then a slight
rustle sounded from her right and she turned her head to
see the man in the flesh, dozing in a chair beside the bed.
She sucked in a sharp, involuntary breath, ignoring the
pain it caused. However beautiful he was in her vision
w a s nothing compared to the real thing. Even with his
long, lean frame sprawled in the uncomfortable-looking
chair, shadows under his eyes, and snoring a little as he
slept like the dead, he was stunning male perfection.
He wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt
that wasn’t tucked in. The buttons were open halfway
down his torso, as though he’d thrown on the shirt and
couldn’t be bothered to finish with the task. Though she
couldn’t see his feet, she guessed he must be wearing
tennis shoes.
Taking in her surroundings, she noted that this room was
much like the one she’d visited him in—when?
be a shifter’s mate to benefit from the bite.” She paused.
“Maybe a human just has to possess a Psy ability.”
Ryon considered this, and nodded. “That could be the
connection. Maybe that’s why we survived the attack
when so many others didn’t.”
“Or it could be simply a thing between mates. Anyway,
it’s certainly a theory worth more study.”
“This is all fascinating, but—”
“I know, you want to see Daria. Impatient, aren’t you?”
She graced him with a full-fledged smile. “Noah’s putting
her into a room now, second one on the left. He’ll come
and get you when he’s done.”
“Thanks, Melina,” he said with feeling. “For
everything.”
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who’s got your work
cut out for you these next few weeks and months, getting
her settled in. Helping her accept a whole new reality. I
don’t envy you that task.”
Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she turned and walked
briskly away. In less than five minutes, Noah was there.
“You can see her now.” With a sympathetic smile, the
nurse left.
Somehow, walking into her room was the hardest thing
he’d ever done. For a long moment he stood inside the
door and studied the slender, battered woman on the bed.
She was lying on her back, lashes like black lace on her
high cheekbones. Her arms were on top of the covers, the
right one in a cast and sling resting on her stomach, and he
noted the scratches on the left arm weren’t quite as angry
and raw in appearance as they should be. Her color was
much improved, and he noticed for the first time that her
skin was a rich bronze, whether from being outdoors a lot
or from her heritage, he could only guess. Maybe a bit of
both.
As he moved closer and took a seat beside the bed, he
was relieved to see that her breathing was deep and even.
She seemed to be at peace.
He worried about how long that would last.
For several long moments, he contemplated Melina’s
parting words, that she didn’t envy him the task ahead.
Daria might forgive him, but getting there probably would
not be a joyride.
Despite his relief at seeing her already healing, the first
hint of trepidation seeped through like black sludge.
Daria had to forgive him. Had to. The alternative was
unthinkable.
• • •
I shouldn’t be alive.
That was Daria’s initial thought as she blinked into the
sunlight filtering through the crack in the blinds in the
sterile room. Yes, she was completely positive she had
been dying out in that isolated stretch of wilderness, lying
broken at the bottom of a ravine.
How am I here? How?
Gradually, bits and pieces returned. Rescuers had found
her. He had been among them, the one she sought. Talking
to her, encouraging her to live. What was his name?
Her thoughts were sluggish, but she finally recalled she
didn’t know it. As more of the fog lifted, she realized that
her vision of him being attacked hadn’t revealed that piece
of information. Nor had they exchanged names when she’d
come to him astrally and begged for help. Then a slight
rustle sounded from her right and she turned her head to
see the man in the flesh, dozing in a chair beside the bed.
She sucked in a sharp, involuntary breath, ignoring the
pain it caused. However beautiful he was in her vision
w a s nothing compared to the real thing. Even with his
long, lean frame sprawled in the uncomfortable-looking
chair, shadows under his eyes, and snoring a little as he
slept like the dead, he was stunning male perfection.
He wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt
that wasn’t tucked in. The buttons were open halfway
down his torso, as though he’d thrown on the shirt and
couldn’t be bothered to finish with the task. Though she
couldn’t see his feet, she guessed he must be wearing
tennis shoes.
Taking in her surroundings, she noted that this room was
much like the one she’d visited him in—when?
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