This is her mate who holds her, who soothes her. Whining softly, she turns to him, licks his hand. He tastes like home.
“Sh,” he keeps murmuring. “We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”
He radiates calm and she believes him.
Then the whole pack is there. Her little pack, all of them with her, all of them safe. She leans close to her mate, presses her body full against him, panting shallow breaths because she’s still nervous. Still waiting for an attack. Have to trust the pack to take care of each other. She trusts her mate with all her being. Letting her muscles relax, letting the anger seep away, she settles into his arms.
“I don’t know enough about this,” he says, his voice strained. “I don’t know if she’s going to be okay.”
“She’ll be okay,” says the other. “Once she sleeps she’ll be fine. Try to get her to sleep.”
So the voice continues, close to her ear, breathing comfort into the fur of her neck. Furless, clawless hands stroke her flanks, a strange and soothing touch.
And because he smells and sounds and feels like home, she settles with him and closes her eyes.
I remembered being shot and started awake.
I lurched up onto an elbow and looked around. I was in a corner of the KNOB lobby, wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket, and curled up on the cold tile floor. Underneath, I was naked.
Ben was standing nearby, talking to Detective Hardin and a couple of other cops. Ozzie was there, too, and some other KNOB staffers. The station manager wore a worried frown and rubbed a hand through his thinning hair. Some of the cops were taking statements. Red and blue lights flashed against the front windows.
Ben turned around before I could draw breath to speak. Quickly he came over and knelt beside me. I screwed up my face and felt vaguely ashamed. I pulled the blanket tightly around my shoulders.
“What happened?” I said, my voice scratching.
“You got shot,” he said.
“I remember that. What about after?”
“You didn’t hurt anyone.”
I gave a thin laugh. “Thank God for small favors.” In truth, this relieved me immensely. I felt lighter.
Idly, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Bloodstains covered his shirt, complete with handprints and streaks from where I’d grabbed his arms. “How do you feel?”
“Crappy. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” The horror of it took a long time to settle over me—Injured and frightened, I’d shifted in the middle of a crowd of people I’d have done it and not thought twice. I’d have just been defending myself. “I can’t believe I got shot.”
“Tell me about it.” He sat beside me and tucked me under his shoulder, wrapping his arm around me. I snuggled in closer. “Hardin sent a couple of cars after Carl. They’re cordoning off the neighborhood to look for him.”
“They won’t find him.”
“I know. She took the rest of his guys into custody. She thinks she’ll find forensic evidence linking them to the warehouse. She seems to be having a good time with all this.”
“She wants to try out her silver-lined jail cell.”
“Well, more power to her.”
The woman herself came over then, looking tired but smug. I had an impulse to stand—I didn’t want to have to look up at her. From wolf eye level no less. But I was too tired, and Ben was too comfortable. Blearily, I stared up at her.
Wary, she studied me, edging toward me like she might toward a wild animal. Which I supposed I was. She’d seen me shift—seen both halves of my being. I’d attacked one of her people, though the specific memory was fuzzy. But she seemed to have the intention of treating me like a human being. However much of a struggle that would be. She visibly gathered herself.
“How are you?” she said. The concern was touching.
I shrugged, then winced, because I still hurt some. My ribs felt bruised, and my whole body felt pounded. “I’ve been worse.”
“For what it’s worth, I apologize. Officer Sawyer’s going to get a reprimand. Just because you weren’t permanently hurt doesn’t mean he gets away with shooting a civilian.”
“And if he’d had silver bullets?” I said. Both Ben and I stared up at her, waiting for the answer.