Savage Awakening (Alpha Pack #2)(25)

Heart aching, she rested her arm on the bed and stroked his hair. During the long, lonely night, she'd attempted to brush it, thinking the action might stimulate him somehow, but the locks were such a snarled mess it would take a haircut and several washings, plus a good conditioner, to have it looking decent again.

"You'll feel better when your hair is clean," she whispered to him. "You'll see. We're gonna make sure you eat well, take lots of vitamins. When you're stronger, we'll work out together and I'll beat you at the hundred-yard dash like I always have. Right?"

The man slept on, and she had to wonder if he was dreaming. If she gave in to exhaustion and drifted off, would she be able to reach him? Faced with days ahead of watching him lie there like a corpse, she was desperate enough to try anything.

As it turned out, she didn't have to coax her tired brain to cooperate. Her head felt so heavy, she needed to rest it on the bed next to his shoulder, just for a little while. The instant she did, sleep claimed her.

A loud keening noise burst into her awareness and quickly ramped into a hideous, drawn-out scream. Rowan bolted upright, pulse pounding, hand automatically reaching for the gun that still hadn't been returned to her. A glance at Micah cleared the cobwebs in a hurry.

Her brother's body was taut as a bowstring, dark head back, eyes screwed shut as he gripped the sheets, screaming as though he was being skewered and sliced into little pieces.

"Oh, my God! Micah!" Without thinking, she laid a palm on his chest, hoping to calm him. Instead, he began to thrash. "Honey, it's me, Rowan!"

At that, he flung himself sideways off the bed. Where he got the strength she had no clue, but she made a desperate grab for him and was taken to the tiled floor so hard the air left her lungs in a rush. They landed in a jumble of limbs and his IV line, and the rolling thing that held the bag of fluid crashed to the ground as well. He fought like a wildcat-or a terrified wolf-as she pushed him facedown and lay across his back in an attempt to subdue him.

"Micah, stop!"

"No! Ahhhhh!"

He was completely out of his head. Fighting his tormentors. He bucked wildly, shouting, trying to get the leverage to dislodge her.

"Someone help me!" she yelled.

Even in his horrible condition, Micah's well of strength was incredible. Drawing up his knees, he flung himself backward. Rowan was along for the ride and the back of her head slammed into the floor, pain blasting through her skull. Her vision grayed out, but she saw Micah looming over her, lips pulled back in a feral snarl, his normally brown eyes gone black. His nose began to elongate into a snout, fur sprouting around his face.

He's going to kill me.

"Micah, no!" she cried, shoving at his chest.

The door crashed open and Micah's weight suddenly disappeared. The sounds of fierce growling and snapping, furniture being shoved, reached her ears, the unmistakable fury of two canines battling it out. Sitting up, she clutched the back of her head and gaped at a pair of wolves-one brown and one red-fighting for dominance.

They were a blur of speed and motion. The brown wolf rolled, dodged, but the red one advanced, teeth bared, backing him into a corner. The brown wolf was smaller, his coat dull and matted when it should've been as full and lustrous as that of his red and cream counterpart. The brown, she guessed, was Micah.

As evidenced when he toppled over and passed out... and then changed back to human form. The red wolf approached his fallen companion, sniffed, and whined softly. Then his fur slowly retracted, limbs reshaped, and became a human male crouching where the wolf had been.

A very naked male. Aric.

Later, she would appreciate the memory of the view. At the moment, she stood on shaky legs as he did the same, scooping her brother into his arms and carrying him to the bed. A woman she hadn't met before, who by the white coat she presumed was a doctor, and a young male nurse, hurried to help Aric get Micah into another gown and settled once more. The nurse fussed with the IV while the doctor checked his vitals, listened to his heart and lungs.

Aric righted an overturned visitor's chair and pushed her into it. "Are you okay?" His tone was quiet and concerned, and he brushed away her hand to examine the back of her head. Fingers probed gently at a lump forming there, and she winced. "You're going to have a bit of a headache, and you were already about to drop. Why don't you go to your room and lie down for a while?"

Her throat tightened with fear. Misery. "I can't. He needs me."

"He needs you to stay well," Aric countered. "He doesn't know you're here right now and a few hours' sleep will only help you."

"That wasn't my brother," she whispered.

"I know, honey." His knuckles grazed her cheek.

The small act of caring was nearly her undoing. And suddenly, a man calling her "honey" wasn't so bad either, coming from this man. Hanging her head, she struggled to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to spill.

"Go ahead and cry if it'll make you feel better."

She gave a watery, humorless laugh. "You know, I was shocked and grief-stricken when that ass**le told me Micah had been killed. But now I don't feel a whole lot different, except I might be losing my mind."

"No way," he teased gently. "The limit on crazy is one sibling per family."

This time, her laugh had a bit more heart. But only just. She turned to look at him, kneeling by her chair, handsome face full of nothing but concern. Against her will, her eyes did a quick tour south, but in his position, with the arm of the chair blocking her view, she could see only see his sculpted upper half. His chest was broad with a nice sprinkling of dark hair and two bronzed male ni**les puckered from the air-conditioning.