Page 36 of Claimed By the Guardian

“But you didn’t feel it. It was always a disease to you.”

She nodded. “If I think of the people—of the families—it tears me apart.”

He nodded, his expression grave. Then he curled her into his arms and pressed her head to his shoulder. He was still shirtless and she was well aware of the heat of his skin, the scent of his body, and the steady, solid beat of his heart. Any other time, she probably would have gotten aroused, but not this time. She clung to him as she allowed the picture of the boy to sink through her consciousness. It slipped inside until it settled right next to Brittany’s Facebook video, which was filed along with all the faces and memories of other people and families she’d treated. Victims with one huge difference.

Most of them hadn’t died in vain. She’d used their information to fight their disease. And she’d already won. She hadn’t saved the victims, but she’d solved the mystery of the virology. Even when they couldn’t stop the thing, she’d helped put in place systems to prevent it from ever happening again.

Except for the Detroit Flu. This monster was still in full form and at the moment it was winning.

“You’ll figure it out now that you know the truth,” Hank said, and his faith warmed her.

Simon spoke, drawing all their attention. “Miguel just texted he’s on his way to cover Sammy and Mother. That means Hank can take you to the hospital now.” He took a breath and his gaze settled heavily on Cecilia. “I’m sorry I ordered Hank to kidnap you. I wanted to show you shifters at our home base where we could control the situation. I thought it was the safest way.”

She nodded. And though Simon was the one who spoke, it was Hank who made the apology real. She felt him squeeze her arm. She heard his exhale. And she knew, in her heart, that he felt miserable for what he’d put her through. At another time, she’d examine how she knew that. She certainly couldn’t deduce that from his heat or his breath. But she knew, deep in her heart, that he felt real pain for her and was desperately sorry.

“I can see that it was necessary,” she said. It was the truth. Hank could not have gone furry in the hospital, and she wasn’t going to believe any of it without seeing.

“Hank will take you wherever you want,” Simon said. “He can answer any questions you have, then?—”

“I’m not leaving her,” Hank interrupted. “The wolves are coming tomorrow night.”

Simon was silent for a moment, his gaze hard on Hank. And here again was another undercurrent she wasn’t sure she understood. Though she guessed the man was not used to being interrupted.

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps it would be better if Vic spoke to her. Until you get some real rest, you can’t shift.”

She felt Hank stiffen by her side, then he spoke through clenched teeth. “I would appreciate Vic’s backup.”

“But you’re not leaving her.” A statement, not a question.

“No.”

Simon shook his head. “You haven’t bonded, Hank. Not yet at least.”

Hank didn’t answer. He simply stood there with his arm wrapped around her and his entire body bristling with defiance. And in the silence, Cecilia managed to insert her question.

“Someone is going to explain this bonding thing, right?”

Hank nodded. “That will be my job. Soon.”

She sighed. She feared she wasn’t going to like that conversation at all. “Can I get a shower first? And maybe another omelet?”

To which Mother burst out with a cackling laugh. “I like a practical girl.” Then she waved at Simon and the others. “Go on. Let him get this girl a shower and let me get some rest. I’ll let you know when Sammy wakes.”

Simon frowned. “Miguel isn’t here yet and the wolves?—”

“Are going to fix my window. That’s them pulling up now. And they’ll help me clean, too. I practically raised those boys when their mother ran off. I’m going to be just fine.”

Cecilia hadn’t even realized that another two trucks had pulled up. Construction trucks and four men were already piling out. That was enough for Simon who nodded at his men. They started carrying out the body while Alyssa shut down her tablet and began gathering her things. Everyone was moving except Detective Kennedy who seemed to shift awkwardly from one foot to another, his gaze on Hank.

It wasn’t long before Hank noticed. The man probably saw everything, but he didn’t ask. He just waited until the cop finally spoke.

“So you mentioned a mantra or something. That helped you sleep.”

Two statements, but good God, did they expose a significant problem. No one looked as exhausted as this guy did and then asked about sleep aids. Not unless he was haunted by something big. And now that the detective stood closer, Cecilia could see the red in his eyes and the way his expression kept sagging before he propped it up again with an extra-brilliant smile.

“It’s not a magic spell,” Hank said gently. “It’s just a way to focus the mind?—”

“To quiet it for sleep, right?”