by Kathy Lyons
Everyone, that is, except her. She had to look away. So she turned aside and her gaze collided with Hank’s. He crossed to her then. He didn’t speak, but he put his arm on her and she let him fold her into his comfort.
“You understand now, don’t you?” he said, his voice low. “That these are people—our people—who are being changed in horrible ways.”
She swallowed. “I always understood that.”
“But you didn’t feel it. It was always a disease to you.”
She nodded. “If I think of the people—of the families—it tears me apart.”
He nodded, his expression grave. Then he curled her into his arms and pressed her head to his shoulder. He was still shirtless and she was well aware of the heat of his skin, the scent of his body, and the steady, solid beat of his heart. Any other time, she probably would have gotten aroused, but not this time. She clung to him as she allowed the picture of the boy to sink through her consciousness. It slipped inside until it settled right next to Brittany’s Facebook video, which was filed along with all the faces and memories of other people and families she’d treated. Victims with one huge difference.
Most of them hadn’t died in vain. She’d used their information to fight their disease. And she’d already won. She hadn’t saved the victims, but she’d solved the mystery of the virology. Even when they couldn’t stop the thing, she’d helped put in place systems to prevent it from ever happening again.
Except for the Detroit Flu. This monster was still in full form and at the moment it was winning.
“You’ll figure it out now that you know the truth,” Hank said, and his faith warmed her.
Simon spoke, drawing all their attention. “Miguel just texted he’s on his way to cover Sammy and Mother. That means Hank can take you to the hospital now.” He took a breath and his gaze settled heavily on Cecilia. “I’m sorry I ordered Hank to kidnap you. I wanted to show you shifters at our home base where we could control the situation. I thought it was the safest way.”
She nodded. And though Simon was the one who spoke, it was Hank who made the apology real. She felt him squeeze her arm. She heard his exhale. And she knew, in her heart, that he felt miserable for what he’d put her through. At another time, she’d examine how she knew that. She certainly couldn’t deduce that from his heat or his breath. But she knew, deep in her heart, that he felt real pain for her and was desperately sorry.
“I can see that it was necessary,” she said. It was the truth. Hank could not have gone furry in the hospital, and she wasn’t going to believe any of it without seeing.
“Hank will take you wherever you want,” Simon said. “He can answer any questions you have, then—”
“I’m not leaving her,” Hank interrupted. “The wolves are coming tomorrow night.”
Simon was silent for a moment, his gaze hard on Hank. And here again was another undercurrent she wasn’t sure she understood. Though she guessed the man was not used to being interrupted.
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps it would be better if Vic spoke to her. Until you get some real rest, you can’t shift.”
She felt Hank stiffen by her side, then he spoke through clenched teeth. “I would appreciate Vic’s backup.”
“But you’re not leaving her.” A statement, not a question.
“No.”
Simon shook his head. “You haven’t bonded, Hank. Not yet at least.”
Hank didn’t answer. He simply stood there with his arm wrapped around her and his entire body bristling with defiance. And in the silence, Cecilia managed to insert her question.
“Someone is going to explain this bonding thing, right?”
Hank nodded. “That will be my job. Soon.”
She sighed. She feared she wasn’t going to like that conversation at all. “Can I get a shower first? And maybe another omelet?”
To which Mother burst out with a cackling laugh. “I like a practical girl.” Then she waved at Simon and the others. “Go on. Let him get this girl a shower and let me get some rest. I’ll let you know when Sammy wakes.”
Simon frowned. “Miguel isn’t here yet and the wolves—”
“Are going to fix my window. That’s them pulling up now. And they’ll help me clean, too. I practically raised those boys when their mother ran off. I’m going to be just fine.”
Cecilia hadn’t even realized that another two trucks had pulled up. Construction trucks and four men were already piling out. That was enough for Simon who nodded at his men. They started carrying out the body while Alyssa shut down her tablet and began gathering her things. Everyone was moving except Detective Kennedy who seemed to shift awkwardly from one foot to another, his gaze on Hank.
It wasn’t long before Hank noticed. The man probably saw everything, but he didn’t ask. He just waited until the cop finally spoke.
“So you mentioned a mantra or something. That helped you sleep.”
Two statements, but good God, did they expose a significant problem. No one looked as exhausted as this guy did and then asked about sleep aids. Not unless he was haunted by something big. And now that the detective stood closer, Cecilia could see the red in his eyes and the way his expression kept sagging before he propped it up again with an extra-brilliant smile.
“It’s not a magic spell,” Hank said gently. “It’s just a way to focus the mind—”
“To quiet it for sleep, right?”
Hank shrugged. “Eventually. Yes.”
“I’ll take it.”
Cecilia turned to look at Hank. What exactly was this magic mantra for people too haunted by something to sleep? But instead of answering, Hank turned and rummaged around in a messenger bag. A moment later, he pulled out a plain tan notebook, the kind used by artists to sketch in. He held it out to the detective who took it with a frown.
“What am I—”
“The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.”
It was actually comical seeing the cop’s expression. He just held the notebook and stared at Hank like the man had spoken Greek.
“Say it after me,” Hank pressed. “The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.”
The man echoed the words, though his expression had already shifted to tolerance. As if he had realized that Hank had no magic words. Meanwhile, Hank was nodding.
“Great. Now write that down. Once for every page in that notebook.”
“Write—”
“But each page has to look different. Do it in calligraphy or in paintbrush.”
“I don’t do calligraphy.”
Hank snorted. “You do now. Every page, a different style, a different way. Pen, crayon, whatever. Take your time with each page. Make it look like art.”
The detective slowly brought the notebook to his side. “And this will help me sleep?”
Hank shrugged. “Eventually. At least it did for me.”
“How soon?”
Hank grinned. “About three notebooks worth.” The guy’s eyes widened in horror, but Hank didn’t let him interrupt. “Unless you want Dr. Lu here to prescribe—”
“No pills. Not with the city like this.” His tone was firm, his expression as closed down as any Cecilia had seen.
“Then start writing,” Hank said. And then his words softened. “Ryan, there really is no easy way.”
The detective answered with a grim shrug. “I don’t care about easy. I just want it to work.”
Hank nodded. “The greatest meditation—”
“Is a mind that lets go. Got it.” And it looked like he did or that he would at least try it. Then he abruptly pulled on a carefree grin. “Okay, bossman,” he said to Simon. “Let’s go…” His words slowed, and his shoulders drooped before his jaw immediately clamped shut.
Right. They were going to notify the kid’s family. Not an easy task and certainly not one for a man already haunted by something. Simon obviously understood because he shook his head.
“I got this. You go—”
The detectiv
e held up his hand. “You’re new, so I’m going to explain something. I know the family. I know the Griz. It’s disrespectful to them for you to do this without me.” Cecilia heard the weight of his words hit the room. They were going to notify a family of a loss. Simon was the leader of the Griz, but it was Detective Kennedy who carried the full weight of the clan. At least in this. And her heart went out to him.
What other burdens was he carrying? And which ones kept him awake at night?
She wanted to ask, but knew that now wasn’t the time. Especially as Alyssa touched her arm then passed her a handwritten note with a phone number and email address on it. “I know things are happening fast, and you’re going to need to catch up.”
Understatement of the century.
“Ask me any questions you have. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll connect you with someone who does.”
“Thank you,” Cecilia said, her gaze shifting away from Detective Kennedy. She didn’t have the brain space to sort through the mystery of a haunted cop. She had to focus on the medical problems. At least that was her plan until Alyssa waggled her eyebrows at her. “And don’t worry about this bonding thing. It’s not all gloom and doom, like they think.” She shot Simon a significant look. “At least it’s worked out pretty well for me.”
No way to answer that, not when every cell of her body flushed with heat as she abruptly became hyperaware of Hank’s presence at her side. While she suffered a hot flash of embarrassment, Alyssa was all business as she grabbed Hank’s arm.
“Don’t forget to check in. We need you slept and recovered ASAP.”
He gave her a clipped nod.
Then she flicked his bare chest with her finger. “And get a shirt on. You look like a cover model prancing around like that.”
“My shirt is covered in blood,” he growled. “I don’t have—”
Alyssa spoke up, her voice pitched to the room. “Anybody got a spare shirt?”
Every single one of the shifters—wolves included—raised their hand.
“Someone loan one to Fabio here, will you?” Then she gave them a jaunty wave before following Simon and Detective Kennedy out the door.
Chapter 13
Once Cecilia had gotten the okay to leave, there was no way Hank could hold her back. She barely gave him enough time to get a shirt on before she was at the door impatiently tapping her foot. She did manage to hug Mother good-bye and promised to return soon with some tea that she thought the woman would like. But beyond that, she was all too happy to leave.
He couldn’t really blame her. Even he felt overloaded by the events of the past twelve hours, and he hadn’t just discovered shifters.
Still, he was cautious as he escorted her to his car. He opened the front door for her and she eagerly hopped inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat quickly, his borrowed shirt pulling too tightly against his neck.
“Okay if we swing by my place first so I can get a change of clothes?”
She glanced at him, her expression wistful. “Personally, I enjoyed the Fabio look, but yeah. It’s fine.”
She already had her nose back in her phone. Every free moment she had was spent scribbling notes on the nearest pad of paper or staring at a screen of numbers. When she gasped, he immediately tensed, scanning the environment for threats. Nothing appeared, but they were still in wolf territory. The looting wouldn’t be a problem. It was over a mile away. Unless things had changed, which they were prone to do.
“What is it?”
She looked up from her phone, her expression tight. “It’s nothing really.”
He turned to look at her. She was lying and frankly, she wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Is it work? Are they worried about your abduction?” He forced himself to say that last word because it was exactly what he’d done. No sense in trying to run from it.
“What?” She frowned at him like she’d forgotten, but then she shook her head. “Actually, it’s rather depressing that no one noticed I was gone. Not a one.”
Ouch. “That’s not a problem with shifters. We’re pretty protective of our own. We like knowing where everyone is and that they’re safe.”
“I bet your teenagers love that.”
“Um, yeah,” he agreed catching her sarcastic tone. “That’s number two on the teenager hate list.”
She turned to him. “Number two? What’s number one?”
“Body hair. Especially with the girls. That’s a biggie.”
She snorted. “I’ll bet.”
He stayed quiet while he backed out of Mother’s driveway and headed toward the freeway. The road was eerily thin of traffic. Though some of the city tried to keep on with life as normal, most of it was either hunkered down and sick or outside and creating havoc. None of that required the freeway.
Meanwhile, she didn’t go back to her phone, so he knew there was something really bothering her.
“If it isn’t work—”
“It’s nothing. I forgot a phone call, is all.”
“You were being abducted, attacked, and learning things.”
She sighed. “Yeah, but I forgot long before you came into the picture.” Her head dropped back against the seat. “I often forget. I get deep into a problem and just lose track of time.”
“Sounds normal.”
“Yeah. He knows it, too. He forgets me all the time so we’re even on that score.”
His ears pricked up at the pronoun. Just what kind of “he” was he? It didn’t sound like a boss or father, and she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dating someone or even married. And boy was he screwed if she was married.
He didn’t comment. Didn’t know how to ask his questions and his bear was much too ready to tear apart any rival. Best if he didn’t press the point right now. Besides, she’d start talking again eventually or go back to her phone.
Rather than have her mentally disappear on him, he reached out and touched her arm. He meant to comfort her with a touch. Instead, he was comforting himself, feeling the heat of her skin, the vibrancy of her body, and the thrum of their connection even if it was only in his head.
“Tell me about him,” he said.
She looked at him, obviously startled. He was, too. He was normally the one who just sat in silence and waited. Got most of his information that way. And yet in this, he was pushing for more connection, probably much faster than she could handle.
And then she started talking.
“He’s a chemist. Our labs were on the same floor in school, but it was our mothers who set us up.”
Definitely a romantic relationship. “How long ago was that?”
She shrugged. “Three years? Four?” She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together as if missing a key piece of jewelry. “Our mothers keep hoping for an announcement.”
He swallowed, using the motion to shove down a howl from his bear. Meanwhile she glanced at him as if he needed an explanation.
“A wedding announcement, you know. A proposal.”
“Yeah,” he said, his throat painfully tight. “I got it.”
“I didn’t. He didn’t ask. Probably because he wasn’t sure I would say yes.” She chuckled. “Yu likes knowing the answers to questions before he asks them. Out loud at least. Scientifically he’s all about tearing apart the biological mystery.”
“You?”
“Y-U. Actually, it’s Jian Yu, which means ‘building the universe.’ But Yu likes being the universe, so he shortened it. He also likes the joke. You—as in someone else—seeming like the universe but it’s actually him because it’s Yu.” She waved her hand. “Don’t worry if you don’t get it. His brain can be pretty convoluted at times.”
“Sounds like a dick.” The words came out with a growl, and Hank gripped the steering wheel tighter. He was out of control here. That was not something he would ever say normally. People’s choices in partners were their own, and everyone was a dick in some ways. And yeah, she was smart enough
to call him on it.
“He’s just smarter than most people and so has found ways to entertain himself in his own mind.”
Hank turned to her. “And do you come into that picture anywhere? Or is it all about him?” Which was a fat load of crap considering how Hank had made love to her last night. It hadn’t been about her at all, and he was ashamed to remember how selfish he’d been in the way he’d touched her. Ate her. And fuck, now he was hard just thinking about it.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be able to read his thoughts. Her gaze had shifted back down to her phone. “I love talking science with him. His mind…” She shook her head. “He’s brilliant.”
“And so are you, so you understand each other.” Marriages had been built on less substantial things.
“Yes, we do. Which is why when we miss scheduled phone calls, neither one of us takes it personally.”
Except she obviously did. Something about it bothered her. He took a stab at the reason. “How long since you had something together that wasn’t about science?”
She snorted. “Well, I thought he was a good kisser.” Her gaze shot to his. “Until you kissed me. Hell, I didn’t even know it was possible to be that good at it.”
Hank didn’t know how to respond. He hated the idea that she’d been kissing this jerk, but then she’d turned the compliment to him and he flushed with pride even as he tried to figure out her meaning. Yeah, okay, so he’d been good at it last night. That was all about patience and attention to detail. And actually wanting to lick every part of her just for the sake of tasting her. But his driving force had been getting between her thighs. About locking in the bond so that babies could be created. It hadn’t been about her as a person. They barely knew each other, though damn it, it felt like they’d been fated since the beginning of time.
Fucking bonding magic. It screwed up the progression of a normal relationship. Made it impossible for him to take his time with her and learn the things he wanted to about her. To see if they fit for real instead of just biologically.
Then she spoke, clearly smart enough to follow his thoughts even though he hadn’t said a word out loud.