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"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 shoulders, and tried to soothe him. "Daria isn't feeling any pain right now. She's in good hands, and she's going to get better fast, thanks to your bonding."
"She's not hurting now, but she will be when she wakes up," he rasped. "And I'll have to tell her what I did to save her life."
"One step at a time. You don't have to get into that right away."
"Yes, I do. If I let it slide, even just until she's better, it'll be the same as lying. What if she hates me for it?" The possibility had him breaking out into a cold sweat. His wolf would go insane, taking the man right along with him.
Taking his hand, Rowan pulled him over to sit in a chair and took a seat beside him. "She might be scared or upset, at first. Don't let that eat at you. There's nothing you could've done differently under the circumstances except allow her to die, and then you would have been next. Once she understands that, everything will be fine."
"I hope you're right." If she rejected him, the consequences he'd suffer didn't bear thinking about further.
A couple of hours passed. His Pack brothers came and went, checking on him and asking for word about his mate. At the moment he was alone. Tired from his constant pacing, he slumped into a chair again and stared out the window, contemplating this turn of events.
Why did he care so much about Daria? On both a primal and intellectual level, he knew what she was to him. Unlike Jax and Aric when they'd met their mates, right from the start there had been no question in his mind, or his wolf's, that Daria was his mate. His wolf's reaction, the beast's attraction to her, was like a blow upside the head with a tire iron. His beast wanted to claim her, mark her with his scent. And much more. But the man cared more than one would for a stranger. It both excited him and scared the shit out of him.
Odd that he'd met her twice already-just not in person. On both occasions she'd reached out to him across miles. Had she somehow sensed their bond, causing her to act?
"Ryon?"
Pushing to his feet, he saw Melina Mallory coming toward him. The doctor's short cap of dark hair was growing out, almost touching her collar, and framed her elfin face in a flattering way. It softened her features, made her more approachable. The rare warm smile hovering on her lips boded well, and he just about fell over in relief before she could speak. In typical fashion, the no-nonsense doc got right to the point.
"Daria is lucky to be alive. She sustained a broken arm, a broken rib, various cuts and bruises, and serious internal bleeding, which is what almost killed her. That said, she's doing well."
He gave a humorless laugh. "Doesn't sound so good to me."
"I'll be honest. If it hadn't been for the mating bite, her story would've ended in that ravine. But you reached her in time, did what had to be done, and that's what matters. She has no serious head injury and her other wounds are healing faster than I've ever seen on a human," she mused.
"Really?"
"Yes. It's quite extraordinary." Melina gazed at Ryon thoughtfully. "I've seen shifters heal rapidly plenty of times. It's just part of your abilities. However, this is the first time we've been able to observe the same healing property at work in a newly mated human. I would love to know whether the bite is only capable of mending one's fated mate, or if it would work on any human."
"Well, it's not like we can go around chomping down on random injured humans in order to find out." A thought struck him. "When our SEAL team was attacked in Afghanistan six years ago by those rogue wolf shifters, we were human. Those of us who survived healed fast, and became shifters. Our Psy gifts were enhanced by the change, too. But none of those ugly bastards were our mates."
"Good point. So it would seem 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 was 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? She had no idea how long she'd been here. There was no clock on the bedside table or on the wall. There wasn't much of anything except a pitcher of water, a plastic cup, the chair, her bed, and a rolling food tray that held a vase of pretty flowers.
She blinked at them, and suddenly remembered her dad. Were they from him? If so, where was he? Maybe he'd gone for some food.
The blond man stirred in the chair and opened his eyes, revealing the crystal blue that she remembered. Stretching his back, he sat up, and in spite of his obvious fatigue, he smiled at her. His teeth were straight and white, and the effect on his already breathtaking looks made her heart skip a beat.
"Hi there." The rich timbre of his voice was smooth, sexy. Like the rest of him.
"Hello." Her own voice was raspy, as though she hadn't used it in months. "Where am I?"
"A . . . private facility." Before she could question him about that, he scooted closer and laid a big hand on her arm. Or rather, over the sling and cast covering her arm. "How are you feeling?"
She paused, taking stock of her body. "Sore. Hurts a little." Then she frowned. "Seems like I should be in more pain, though. Good drugs, maybe."
Those gorgeous blue eyes grew solemn. "Something like that. Do you remember your name and what you were doing in the Shoshone?"
"I'm Daria Bradford, and I'm a wildlife biologist specializing in the study of wolves." She swallowed, the dryness in her throat making her hoarse. Immediately he caught on and poured her a cup of water, sticking a straw in it. Then he held the straw to her lips.
"Just a few sips. Don't want you to get sick."
The water was heaven. More so was the solicitous attention from this kind stranger. "Thank you." She sat back and he placed the cup on the table.
"You're welcome." He paused. "Do you recall how long you'd been in the area before you fell into the ravine?"
She nodded, the slight movement making her neck twinge. "Almost two weeks. And I didn't fall, I was pushed. I told you that before."
A blond brow arched attractively, disappearing under the fringe of bangs that fell into his eyes. "When you astrally projected yourself into my hospital room. You have a gift."
There was no accusation in his tone. No stunned disbelief, no censure or disgust. Just honest interest. Why wasn't he shocked? "Yes."
"All right. Why did you go off the trail? Why did you run from the scene of the body you found, and who pushed you into the ravine?"
"Back up. I can't believe you're taking it so well that I have a Psy gift."
He laughed softly. "Trust me, nobody around here will bat an eyelash at that."
"What do you mean?"
"All in good time."
"What's your name?"
"Ryon Hunter," he said softly. "At your command."
He was gazing at her as though she held the answers he'd sought all his life. It made her feel warm and fuzzy all over. Weird. And sort of nice.
"It's good to meet you." It came out sounding shy, though she wasn't typically a shy person at all. This man got to her, and she didn't understand why.
"You mean good to meet me again."
"That's true." More questions hovered on his lips, she could tell. But he simply waited. "How long have I been here?"
"Since yesterday. You were out all night."
"Okay. To answer you, I broke camp yesterday morning and left in sort of a hurry because I heard something that frightened me. A screeching sound."
"Screeching? Like a bird or something?"
She shook her head. "No. Have you seen any of the old Godzilla movies? That awful sound he makes when he's trashing Tokyo? That kind of noise, exactly. It echoed through the mountains." This information earned her the dubious look that the revelation of her Psy gift had not.
"It sounded like Godzilla?"
"It did," she said stiffly. "Every living thing in the forest went still and silent. My job entails working in nature, being alone and isolated for weeks at a time as I study the wolf packs and check their progress. I don't scare easily, and I wouldn't exaggerate something like that."
