“A helicopter out as soon as possible. My brothers heal by touch, but I’d like a human doctor to check her over.”
“Understood. I’ll let you sleep.”
“Wait,” Calian said. “There’s something else. Your father. He saved Renee from the assassin. I’m sorry, but he died of a gunshot wound.”
The line went quiet, but the connection hadn’t dropped. Sax’s steady breathing still drifted down the line.
“Gunnar?”
“Yes. He told me to tell you he’s proud of you and your brothers, that he loved you all.”
“He saved Renee?”
“He mauled the woman before she could get to Renee. He said he’d been watching the lodge and the woman setting up her gun, ready to fire on Renee. You will want to take him home too.”
Sax remained silent for a beat. “No, we’ll do a ceremony there. He loved the lodge. I think he’d like to wander the tundra in the afterlife. I’ll sort everything this end. Weather permitting, we’ll be there in a few hours.”
* * * * *
Warmth filled Renee—a decadent heat and a sense of wellbeing. She tried to move and moaned at the pain in her arm. Her eyes flicked open, her gaze drawn to the embers in the nearby fireplace.
A head lifted to her right. One to her left.
She blinked several times, but the sight was clear enough in the light from the fire and the daylight creeping through the windows.
Dogs surrounded her. No, not dogs.
Wolves.
Her heart attempted to leap up into her throat.
Had she bumped her head too hard in the crash?
Polar bears. Polar bears changing to men. Wolves.
She closed her eyes and opened them again. Nope. Not her imagination.
One of the wolves stood, its golden gaze on her. Renee stared back at the huge gray beast, trying to trudge through the syrup of confusion that was her mind.
The facts: she was indoors. The lodge?
Wolves. Four of them.
Polar bears. None.
Status—alive.
She observed the standing wolf.
Alive for now.
As she stared at the wolf, its furry outline wavered. A male body formed. A naked male body. A familiar, naked male body.
“Calian?” She swallowed. “I don’t understand.” Not quite true. She’d heard whispers, observed strange things since arriving in Churchill and told herself to mind her own business. Much safer that way.
“Yes, how are you? Aches? Pain?”
“Sore.”
