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“Then who says?” Micah let Noah squirm for a few seconds before he continued. “Let me guess. The patient’s? And why would that be?”
“I’m not allowed to say.” His voice was quiet, his gaze sympathetic. “Confidentiality and all that.”
“And what room is she in? Because I promise you, if I have to go door to door and harass every single person here until I find her, I will.”
Noah stared at him, then sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. “Shit. I could get in so much trouble for this. She’s in 521. And, Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“Go easy on her, okay? She’s had it rough. Really rough. If she hasn’t approached you or Jacee yet, she has her reasons.”
Something unpleasant coiled in Micah’s gut, and he nodded. “I will.”
So, the truth was going to be more complicated than some happy reunion. Didn’t that just figure? All the way to the young woman’s room, he told himself it still could have been a case of mistaken identity. Some other girl by the name of Faith Buchanan. Who happened to end up in a hospital for lost and broken shifters.
Right.
Outside the correct door, he paused. Then knocked, knowing that somehow this visit was going to change his and his mate’s lives.
“Come in?” Soft-spoken, posed as a tentative question.
He pushed inside the room and left the door open just a bit, hoping that would make her feel a little more comfortable in his presence.
His first good look at her confirmed exactly who he believed her to be, even without solid proof. The woman was a younger, waiflike version of Jacee, pale and far too thin. The bones stood out on her delicate face, and her hair was lighter, chestnut in color. Almost colorless eyes of blue crystal stared back at him, but not so much with fear.
With shame. Exhaustion. Longing. Curiosity. Her face was an open book of emotions, her hands clenched in her lap. She was sitting in a chair by the window, a book on the table beside her. She wore a dressing robe more suitable for someone four times her age, and it was fastened all the way to her throat.
“I wondered when you’d come, Micah Chase,” she said, her voice soft and melodious. “I thought you might bring my sister.”
His mouth fell open. “You’ve known who I am? That your sister is here and mated to me?”
Sorrow pinched her features. “Only since I saw you come in the other day, so badly injured. You reached for me and called me by my sister’s name. I was so shocked, I had to learn what was going on. I asked a few questions.”
“And got your answers.”
“Yes.”
“I’m confused,” he admitted. “Do you know how much she mourns your loss? My God, she thinks you’re dead!”
Faith plucked a tissue from the box on the table and dabbed at the tears that rolled from her eyes. “I believed she was, too. That’s what I was told.”
“By whom?”
“The Hunters who captured me, who started selling me as a prostitute.”
Horror choked him, and bile threatened to force his wine to reappear. “You were barely more than a girl when you were taken. Twelve? Thirteen?”
She gazed at him sadly. “Thirteen. I haven’t been young for a very, very long time, wolf.”
They’d sold a child. His mate’s sister. God help her. He wanted to kill them all.
“I can read your emotions in your face, and believe me, I’ve felt them all. The Hunters who took me are all dead, you know. I was rescued by your vampire allies several weeks ago and brought here to recover.”
“And you’d been with those Hunters all those years?”
“Well, the group’s members were fluid, but yes. Basically. So the ones unfortunate enough to still be around when I was liberated were killed by Prince Tarron and his coven. To hell with those evil bastards, and long live the prince.”
A bit of fire, then. His lips turned up, and hers did, too. Just a fraction.
