Author: J.D. Tyler

"Come on, honey," he encouraged. "Drink this."

For several long moments, nothing happened. Ryon stroked her throat, encouraging her to swallow, to no avail. Despair began to weigh heavily on his heart, much greater than the sadness of not being able to save a stranger. His wolf howled inside him, forlorn.

Ryon and his wolf had scented their mate. If Daria died, so would they.

"Daria, please," he whispered. "Work with me. Live."

She twitched, her head moving slightly to the side. Then she coughed and swallowed. He let out a sigh of relief as she repeated the action, licking her lips to get the life-giving blood that had spilled there. Her eyes remained closed, but he felt it. A spark flared within her, a tiny light of hope that reached out to him tentatively, seeking an anchor. Meeting the light halfway, he pulled it into himself, holding on tight.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Nick's voice was urgent. "Bite her now, Ryon. Bind her to you, or she won't survive."

"Where? She's hurt all over." Desperate, he scanned for a good spot.

"Anywhere. Her wrist will do for now."

He'd been alone for so long, had never dreamed he'd find a mate. A wave of disappointment washed over him that it must happen here, like this, in front of his Pack brothers, as he fought for her life. Then he shoved down the self-pity. There would be time for intimacy later. He should be grateful fate had sent her into his world.

Gently, he lifted her good arm and brought her wrist to his lips. His fangs lengthened and his wolf growled in anticipation. Reining in his aggression and possessiveness wasn't easy, but he managed to sink his canines into the tender flesh without ripping or clamping down too hard.

Instantly, his tongue was flooded with ambrosia. He had a mere five seconds or so to marvel at the rush that quickened his pulse before his world detonated into a brilliant solar blast that almost knocked him backward. The thin light that had been threaded between them when she accepted his blood was anemic compared to this. A thick golden bond arced from his body to hers, crackling with electricity and then detonating like a supernova. His fangs slipped from her wrist and he felt himself fall backward, into a strong embrace.

"Gotcha," Jax said in his ear. "You okay?"

Was he? He blinked into the cloudless sky, taking stock. Nothing hurt. In fact, he'd never felt better in his life. Even the pain left over from the vampire attack seemed pushed so far into the background as to be almost nonexistent. All that remained was the fiery glow that spun between him and Daria.

"Yeah. I think so." With Jax's help, he sat up and studied the woman anxiously. "She looks better, doesn't she?"

"Her color has improved." Nick patted his shoulder. "You've given her a chance she didn't have before. Now get dressed before Jesse sees you naked and thinks something really kinky is going on."

"Would serve him right, the grouchy bastard." In spite of the seriousness of Daria's situation, he smiled a little. Sheriff Jesse Deveraux knew their main secret and had kept it well, even if he didn't much like it. Bastard or not, it was good to have a human ally in law enforcement.

Ryon almost felt sorry for the sheriff. Whatever was going on in the Shoshone, the man was going to have his hands full real quick.

Nudging Ryon aside, the medical team-minus Mac, who was forbidden by Kalen from descending the steep hill-went to work hooking up the biologist to an IV and a heart monitor. Melina and Noah straightened her broken arm as well, causing the woman to moan in agony even in her unconscious state, and making Ryon's wolf very unhappy again. But he kept a leash on the beast.

Once the arm was in a sling, Daria was declared fit for transport. Carefully, with Nick's and Jax's assistance, they transferred their patient to the basket, strapped her in, secured the basket to the pulley and ropes, and began to guide it up the incline. It was a long, tedious process that had them all sweating by the time they reached the top, and everyone was relieved to start the journey back to the Huey.

Ryon remained glued to her side as his friends carried the basket toward the trail. Her color did appear better. She was far from healed, but she would be. He couldn't wait to get to know this woman who had reached out to him, and in doing so, had set them on a path that would alter their destinies.

Would she be shy and kind? Or brash and loud? She worked alone, at one with the nature around her. She loved wolves. That had to be a positive sign, right? And she apparently treated herself to a bit of the hair of the dog once in a while-no pun intended. The recollection of the little bottle of whiskey made him smile. Getting to know her might be fun.

And maybe he wouldn't feel so alone anymore.

When they reached the clearing where they'd found the mutilated body, Ryon wasn't surprised to see the entire area crawling with park rangers, the county cops, the medical examiner's people, a crime scene unit, and Deveraux himself, standing tall among the ordered chaos, a thunderous expression on his rugged face.

"Westfall!" He strode toward Nick, a man on a mission. "Why is it that every single time things go to shit in my county, you and your band of misfits are smack in the middle of it?"

"Good to see you, too, Jesse. Hey, are you putting on weight? Don't worry. You carry it well."

"Don't fuck with me, friend. Not today." He jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the remains. "What do you know about this?"

"Not a damned thing, nor do I want to," Nick replied drily. "That's why I called you. I think you've either got a rogue grizzly, or a serial killer. Neither of which are my problem."

The sheriff's gaze went to Daria. "Yet this injured biologist is your problem? How does she fit in with the killing?"

"I don't think she does, except I'm speculating she found the body and something scared her into running. We're going to find out, though."

"Then I'll need to question her," Deveraux persisted. "You taking her to the hospital?"

"No, to the compound." Nick pinned the other man with a steely glare. "I need you to keep her whereabouts quiet."

"Goddamn." He blew out a breath. "As much as you fuck me up the ass, I ought to start keeping lube handy."

Nick fell silent for a few seconds, a faraway look in his eyes. Ryon recognized it, having witnessed it before, and no doubt so had the Pack members present. Their commander had "seen" an event, something vital to their future.

Whatever the vision was, Nick shook it off. "Come to the compound when you're free. I'll explain as much as I can."

"What, you're actually going to let me enter the exalted inner sanctum? Tell me what the holy hell you guys do up there?" The sheriff shook his head. "Miracles never cease."

"I know I can trust you," Nick said simply. "And for the record, I was wrong-your body over there isn't just your problem, nor is it the last one. I have a feeling we're going to have to work together on this case. Just buzz the security box at the gate and someone will let you inside."

"Fine. I'll see you later." The sheriff stalked off, barking orders to anyone within earshot. Everyone jumped like rabbits to do his bidding.

Nick waved on his team. "Let's get her out of here."

As they walked to the Huey, Ryon mulled over Nick's intriguing statement to the sheriff. Something big and scary was in the shadows, waiting.

And he suddenly knew with absolute certainty that it wasn't just his and Daria's lives that were about to be changed forever.

. . .

For an endless stretch of time, there was nothing but blackness. Pain.

Then there were voices. Snarling. A dog? What was a dog doing here? Then hands, lifting her body. Agony.

More discussion. The snarling ceased, and there were soothing words. One of the voices sounded familiar. He was important, but she couldn't recall why.

Then, something incredibly sweet trickled into her mouth. The taste was amazing, but her throat refused to work and she feared choking. Gradually, that changed. Something began to happen. Synapses fired, creating tiny explosions in every cell, making them come alive. At last the muscles in her throat cooperated and she drank the essence, greedy for more and more. When the wonderful liquid was taken away, she felt the loss like a physical blow.

The 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."