I don’t have to ask what he means. We’re not playing dumb. He knows, and he knows where to find her.
“Where?” I demand.
“At Lakeside Point. I just texted you the address.” My phone pings and I glance long enough to confirm the text. “Gage, get here fast. She’s not doing well.” His voice carries a rough edge of worry.
“You know her?” I ask, rage bubbling up my throat.
“She’s a business owner in town,” he explains.
My inner alpha snarls. “You found our fucking mate and didn’t even tell us?” I demand. Every one of my packmates is watching me now.
“I’m not doing this with you over the phone. Zeke needs to get here now. How far are you?” At this point I’m fisting the phone so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked.
“An hour,” I grit out.
“You can yell at me in an hour, then,” he says—and the line goes dead. I barely resist the urge to hurl the phone across the room.
“Can you ride?” I ask Zeke. He nods. “Then let’s go.”
Winnie
A slow, steady beeping sound wakes me. The smell of antiseptic and scent-neutralizers fills my senses.
The second thing I notice is a weight at my side and a wet, snuffling nose under my palm.
The third thing is the sound of shouting from somewhere nearby, slowly coming into focus. The last thing I remember is the Sheriff holding me in his strong arms, making me feel safe and warm through all the pain I’d been feeling—the pain that’s now mostly gone.
I risk cracking an eye open and immediately regret it. The fluorescent lights above me assault my senses, and the low-grade headache I’d been nursing flares into a full-blown migraine.
I groan and turn my head away. Deputy snuffles up my side until his nose is just under my chin. The angry voices quiet.
“Winnie, Sweetheart. You’re at the hospital.” The gruff voice sounds like the Sheriff’s—but it can’t be, can it? He only ever calls meMiss Heart,never by my first name.
Except… he did. Just before everything went dark.
I open my eyes again to find Corbin sitting next to my bed, deep concern marring his ruggedly handsome features. I open my mouth to assure him I’m okay but stop—realizing for the first time that we’re not alone.
Besides Deputies large grey eyes looking at me, another alpha stands further back in the room, broad shoulders stretching a cotton tee over dark biceps. Close cropped, black hair and brown, sharp eyes. He’s probably five-ish years older than me.
Because of the medical grade scent-neutralizers in the air, I shouldn’t be able to scent them at all. But Sheriff Corbin still carries the faint traces of cedar and leather I always catch hints of, and I notice something else from the other alpha. Unfamiliar but sharp and magnetic.
Sheriff Corbin sits in the chair next to my bed. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” I croak. My voice sounds raspy and sleep-thick even to my own ears.
The door opens, and my heart drops.
The alpha from the club—the one who bit me—walks in.
In the club, I’d only seen flashes of the man beneath the alpha haze. He’s younger than Corbin, and the other alpha—probably my age. His brown hair falls around his ears. He’s more compact than the others, but just as solid. His green eyes meet mine, and the regret and self-loathing that surge through the bond snarl together with my own misery, impossible to separate.
No one speaks until the obvious occurs to me. “How did you find me?” I ask.
Sheriff Corbin, of all people, shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I called them.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something there—regret? Worry? I can’t tell.
“I don’t understand. How did you know who to call? How did you even have their number?” I try to keep my tone even, but some of the hurt leaks through. Corbin’s face tightens.
“When I came to your house, your scent had melded with the bite. I knew whose scent it was,” he explains. Or tries to. I’m not sure I understand.. Buthisscent pushing through the hospital’s neutralizers and him recognizing the scent of the man who bit me… those add up to something.
