Her eyes drifted open to traces of an early sun streaming softly through tall, bay windows. Kate willed her body to move, heedful of the stiffness in her limbs and the dull ache that ensued. Her eyes fell closed almost lulled by that profound impulse to sleep, but she forced them open, fixing them more intensely about the room.

          Her thoughts slowly roused from their languid state, steadily piecing together her last bit of recognition and what followed nearly pitched her forward in bed.

          A horrified gasp wedged sorely in her throat and instinctively her fingers moved to the pulse that reverberated there.

          Her eyes now wide pools of panicked green Kate glanced frantically around the room, regarding the gray on gray upholstery and settee resting beneath a window. The walls of the open room were of an unfinished brick displaying but several pieces of modern art.

          She sat frozen amidst a rather large King size bed donned purely in slate gray covering and huge feather-stuffed pillows.

          Nothing of the room struck a familiar note and her fear pulsated through her body like a bolt of electricity.

          Her hands trembled as she pushed the covering aside, noting its extravagance by the heaviness of it in her hands.

          She swung her legs over the side of the bed and started to rise, but the moment she applied pressure to her right foot a throbbing stemmed from her noticeably swollen ankle, forcing a cry past her throat.

          Grimacing she shifted to her other foot and limped across the room to a tall mirror propped against the wall. It wasn’t so much the crisp, button-down shirt belonging clearly to a man, but the woman staring back at her that came as a shell-shock.

          Kate stared aghast at this woman having seen her once before in a sterile, egg-shelled room.

          She now knew the cause for the ache at her throat where the impression of cruel fingers had been. The right side of her face bore an ugly bruise done in those horrid shades of purple and blue. The collision of thin, sharp limbs accounted for the many scratches marring her face, neck and collarbone as she recalled running along harsh, sodden earth.

          She clenched her eyes shut against the horrible, all too familiar reflection as it brought unbridled tears to her eyes, her stomach churning with it.

          Danny. He had found her, just as he said he would. Even when she thought she’d been safe he’d manage to erupt back into her life. Tears streaked her face as her mind recalled his havoc and rage, destroying everything belonging to her, even taking her money.

          Her knees buckled and though it caused her pain to settle to the floor she did so, unable to stand. It was cold and unforgiving against her bare legs as her chest shuddered with a sob, rippling through her weary body.

          He tried to kill her – again.

          Another sob tore from her and she curled into a ball, succumbing to the grief that consumed her. She’d never felt so empty so completely depleted of life – and so alone. There was no where to run, no family who would keep her secure. There was no place she could hide that he wouldn’t find.

          A small part of her considered death and wondered if in the afterlife she’d find tranquility.

          The despair that engrossed her was near debilitating that she hadn’t noticed the warmth suddenly enveloping her. She’d felt the cold floor and then – air. Her eyes had grown leaden and her head lolled against a solid shoulder.

          Though she floated aimlessly between unconsciousness and actuality she was certain of strong arms cradling her, and the solid heartbeat at her ear.

          Her heart fluttered madly against her breast as warm lips grazed her forehead in a subtle caress. She willed her eyes to open to peer upon the face of the man who smelled of wood and spice but when she felt the lushness of the King size bed – it was her undoing.

          Ronan stepped away from the bed, his jaw clenching tautly as his gaze fixed heatedly over the malevolence that was her face.

          Every bit of that unrelenting fear from before had all but diminished with a profound and steadfast rage. The brutality done to her suggested explicitly of the cruel nature of her attacker. Whoever the man, he’d left his mark.

          He had taken a risk in shifting in broad daylight, but without his heightened sense of smell, his chances of finding her were slim to none. Once in his wolf form he immediately caught wind of her scent and trailed it to the bottom of a steep slope where he discovered her buried beneath loose soil and tattered leaves. The layers of damp earth had cushioned her hapless fall, perhaps sparing her life.

          The sight of her made his blood run cold. Her breaths were shallow and scarce on the air, barely tangible to his ears. Her dark hair splayed the earth in a tangled, unruly spread. Her face and clothes bore the cruelty of skeletal limbs – and human brutality.

          It was an alarming sight – one graved into his memory.

           A subtle tapping sounded from downstairs, jarring him from his deep musings, luring him to the front door. He wrenched it open to find his elder Adeline standing on the other side with her medicine satchel in hand.

          “You are alone?” he demanded sharply, gray eyes straining past the lineation of her frail frame to the shadows at her back.

          The older woman nodded tentatively, peering with dark, discerning eyes. She slipped past him, smelling strongly of herbs and earth. “Where is the woman?” she asked earnestly, fixing him with eyes that glinted of many lifetimes.

          He motioned to the second level of the loft and as she turned away he seized her forearm warningly, “First –“ he growled ominously, “ – I will have your word.”

          She peered sensibly at those lean fingers latched about her arm and casually met his appraising, icy stare. “I have given it. You needn’t worry.” She assured gingerly.

          He hesitated, narrowing his eyes with a hint of uncertainty on whether he could trust her and the surety of her word.

          They proceeded upstairs where he grudgingly stood aside, overseeing the elder as she carefully examined the injuries at hand.

          “You have cared for her kindly.” The elder noted as her slender hands gently applied salve to the many scrapes and nicks running the length of Kate’s arms.

          Ronan stiffened, pegging the woman with a steely, assertive glare. “What are you implying?”

          Adeline continued in her gentle ministrations, undaunted by the hiss of his baritone and the weight of his intense, gray stare. “The tenderness in which you bestow this woman reflects strongly of your feelings for her.”

          “I wouldn’t be so presumptuous in your unwarranted assumption, old woman.” He warned in a thin-lipped snarl.

          Her dark eyes glinted knowingly from beneath thin, graying tresses. “Why have you called on me then, Ronan? Why not simply take the woman to a hospital where she can be cared for by the humans?”

          His mouth thinned with a grim line as he cast brooding eyes over the woman asleep in his bed.

          Because she is mine.

           “I favor your healing methods opposed to the humans and their medicine.” He fell silent, his expression darkening with a sudden torrent of rage. “And to put her there would simply put her in the hands of her attacker.”

          She maintained his unwavering stare, observing him intently in that insufferable silence that was every bit grating on his short temperament, and then she merely turned back to her task at hand.

          Taken aback by her rather lack of complaint he asked, “Have you no objections?”

          She didn’t glance up but rather inclined her head to better analyze her work and replied, “None of which that would deter you from your purpose.”

          Ronan frowned, sensing the elder knew far more than she cared to disclose.

          “Now, leave the room so I may tend to her more thoroughly.” She insisted with a hint of opposition.

          It was the first inclination of challenge in the older woman and he was unwilling to dispute her in the matter. She was a healer of many sorts and he trusted her tactful abilities.

          He left her to her work and tread a deliberate path to his marble bar equipped with the finest liquor in the market and busied draining the last remnants of Scotch for the next hour. The malt whisky burned a gratifying path down his throat and he chased it with another hefty, inviting swig, yet it did little to extinguish the fire in his gut.

          Their was an onslaught of white-hot rage burning a fiery path, lacing his veins hotly, all the while rousing his beast from its dormant state.

          He felt his wolf stir and his body shuddered with its beastly other. His flesh tingled with the profound and inexplicable desire to shift – and kill. He envisioned just that, his talons lengthening, running the length of one despicable waste of human smelling pungently of cigarettes and vowed – come hell or high moon – he’d kill him.

          A sharp rapping resonated in his ears and Ronan groaned, only then realizing the sound wasn’t a ringing in his head but a persistent knock at the front door.

          His eyes narrowed uneasily as he cast a glower at the second level of the loft.

          The old woman had claimed to have come alone. Had someone followed her? Had she betrayed him to his pack?
          He suppressed a growl at the latter. No matter the corollary or the odds against him, he’d protect Kate at all costs.

          His hands fisted until his forearms ached with the strain as he stalked towards the door, his muscles tightening in preparation for a fight – if need be.

          He seized the latch and swung the door wide to a sullen Beta looming at his threshold.

          Micah blanched at the intensity that greeted him, “What the – “

          Ronan pinned him sharply with eyes rimmed in ire, “What the hell are you doing here?”

          Micah shoved past him and he groaned, slamming the door with enough force to topple a few bottles of depleted Scotch.

          His Beta arched a brow at the rummaged bar, “Having a rondevu of spirits, are we?”

          “I’m not feeling hospitable, Micah.” he growled indignantly.

          He turned and swept Ronan with a perusal of suspicion, “You show up at the bar looking as if you’d come straight from Hades and then you rush out on a whim. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

          Ronan realized he hadn’t done a damn thing as far as his appearance was concerned. He still looked worse for wear and having consumed a considerable stash of the bar – his demeanor was just as distasteful.

          Adeline appeared at the foot of the stairs, having witnessed their exchange of words.

          Micah frowned, “What’s she doing here?” and averted his gaze back to Ronan, “Are you injured?”
          He crossed the room to the elder, “What do I owe you?”

          Adeline held up a thin, furrowed hand. “Consider it a kindness.” Her dark eyes wavered to Micah before saying, “She will need plenty of rest. I have left salve and herbs on the bedside table.”

          Ronan ignored Micah’s imploring stare and followed Adeline to the door, “I am grateful to you.” 

          She turned dark eyes to him and he noticed a warmth that hadn’t been their before, “She is your match in every way.”

          And she left – leaving him momentarily stunned.

          The sudden intrusion of boots ascending a deliberate path spun him furiously about. “Micah!” he growled.

          But his Beta had already reached the top of the stairs, one hand resting tightly on the iron railing as his incredulous stare fixed the woman lying in the bed.

          Ronan seized his forearm in that iron-like vise and wrenched him about with an ominous snarl, “That’s enough.”

          Micah’s expression darkened with outrage, “What is this?” he wrenched free of Ronan’s grip and wagged a finger at the bed, “What is she doing here?” he sighed heavily and swept a hand through his disheveled mane.

          “She’s under my protection.”

          “To what extent?” Micah snapped, “She’s a whole lot of dire straights. Are you willing to risk everything?”

           His gray eyes shimmered angrily with a hint of silver, “Are you finished?” he thundered, motioning to the bar below, “I’ve not yet reached my drunken status.”

          “Ronan –“ Micah started, some of the anger having gone from his tone. “ – I’m merely concerned.”

          His expression remained passive as he met his Beta’s unyielding stare. “I understand your concerns but they are mine.”

          “And when the pack learns you harbor feelings for a human?”

          His expression remained passive, revealing little to nothing of the storm that raged within. He had often wondered as to the how and why concerning his feelings for Kate, a mere human. There was no denying the attraction and the desire that flourished with every waking thought of her. These feelings weren’t simply because he hadn’t bed her. They were far more explicit, more intense, bordering a fine line of longing. And if he didn’t act on them soon – he could very well succumb to those perilous fires. 

          He met Micah’s uneasy stare, noting the in depth concern riveted there. “I do not expect you or any other to fight for my cause. Keep that in mind when lines are drawn.”

**********