Savage Awakening

The tears didn’t stop coming for a long, long while.

Aric watched her go, and as the car was swallowed by the trees around the bend, he sank to his knees. Utter, complete devastation blasted through him, wave after wave of pain. More than he could stand.

His mate. He’d lied and hurt her, sent her away.

He’d never see her again. Not in this lifetime.

Sitting back on his heels, he threw his head back and shouted his anguish to the heavens. The shout became a howl as his limbs reshaped. Fur sprouted and his muzzle elongated. In seconds, the shift was complete.

He let his wolf out and ran. Oh, he’d come back. He’d made his brothers a promise, and he’d keep it.

But they’d find out soon enough that he’d only come home to die.

Rowan sat at her tiny dining table and sorted through the mail. Wasn’t much, which was sort of surprising, since it seemed she’d been gone a year.

Bill. Crap. Crap. Bill.

The usual. It took her all of ten minutes to look through and organize the envelopes into what to shred and what was important. The plants were next, though they weren’t doing too bad, just a little droopy. Then she tidied the living room, fixed herself a Lean Cuisine, which took all of fifteen minutes to consume, and that was stretching it.

And yeah, the walls were closing in. L.A. was definitely not the Shoshone National Forest, with its majestic mountains and thick trees.

Sluaghs, too. Don’t forget those.

Well, here in the city they had shit that was just as bad. She’d like to see one of Malik’s pets go up against the East Side Lobos. Now that would be worth the price of admission.

Antsy, she reached into her purse and extracted her cell phone to charge it, since she hadn’t really used it in days. That’s when she finally thought to check her messages, and found she had three from Dean. Damn, she’d forgotten all about him and he was probably dying of curiosity, not to mention worried that she hadn’t bothered to check in.

After making sure she had enough charge left, she speed-dialed her friend. He answered on the third ring, his attitude typical Dean.

“It’s about fucking time. I was starting to think you’d been eaten by a goddamned Yeti.”

“Wrong mountains.” Buddy, you’d never believe what we really ran into. “As you can see, or rather hear, I’m fine.”

“Are you home?”

“Safe and sound. Got in a couple of hours ago.”

“I’m coming over. Got any beer?”

“I’m tired, Dean. Drove for a day and a half to get here.”

“I won’t stay long. I just want the story. I assume there is one.”

She sighed. “There is. Bring the beer. I’m all out.”

“Gotcha. One hour, tops.”

Saying good-bye, she hung up and settled onto the sofa to wait. She must’ve fallen asleep, because she’d just started across a clearing toward a beautiful red wolf she was desperate to reach when a pounding shattered the wisp of a dream and she jerked upright.

The sound came again, a knocking at the door. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled to the door and peered out, then let Dean inside. The big blond man gave her a one-armed hug and then walked into the kitchen, making himself at home as he removed two longnecks from one of the cartons and put the rest away.

“Okay, spill it,” he demanded, twisting the top off one brown bottle and handing it over. “Did you find any sign of what happened to Micah?”

She took a long draw, and wiped her lips. “Better.” For the first time since leaving the compound, she smiled. “I found him.”

“Really? That’s great!” Stepping up, he hugged her again and placed a wet kiss on her cheek. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? I’ve been on pins and needles this whole time, worried that you’d hit another dead end and were probably devastated, and—shit, never mind. How is he? Where has he been?”

Leaning against the counter, Rowan rested the cold bottle against her forehead for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Dean was FBI, and he was a good man. She knew she could trust him. But how much would he believe?

“Micah was captured a little more than six months ago, during an op that went bad. Top secret stuff. He was recovered from the facility where he was being held, shortly after I arrived at the compound you told me about. He was in pretty bad shape, but he’s on the road to recovery.”

She hoped.

He studied her, the silence stretching out. “That’s it? After months of watching you grieve, I get the short version?”

“Dean…”

“What was this facility where he was being held?”

What to say? “It’s one of many places where someone pretty well-known is conducting illegal human experiments.”

“Human?”

Mentally, she cursed her blunder. “As opposed to chimps and rats.”

“Oh. What type of experiments?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t? Come on, Rowan. I searched for months to get you a lead on your brother, and I’d never betray your confidence.”

Hesitating, she looked into his dear face, read his concern. He was the one best friend she had, and he’d proven himself time and again. What was more, Nick had never forbidden her from saying anything. She needed to spill her guts to someone she trusted. That would be Dean.

“Bring the rest of the beer. We’re going to need it.”

Clearly intrigued, he fetched the carton. They carried their brews into the living room, placed them in the center of the coffee table, and flopped on the sofa.

And then, she proceeded to tell him everything. From her arrival and being met by shifters, to her wrenching departure. How she’d cried half the way home and just wanted to sleep for a fucking year and forget any of it ever happened. Except she couldn’t because that’s where Micah was, and where he obviously planned to stay.

When she finished, they’d killed all but two beers and Dean was staring at her, wide-eyed, having not said much for the whole story. Except to interject a question or a heartfelt “holy shit” here or there.

“You think I’ve gone completely off the deep end, don’tcha?” She picked at the label, feeling a bit fuzzy. Too much trauma and too little sleep on the trip back to L.A., throw in some beer on top of a skimpy Lean Cuisine, and it made for one tired, sad cop.

“Christ, I don’t know.” He pushed his fingers through his short wheat-colored hair, making it poke in every direction. “In all my life, I’ve never met a more steady, no-bullshit person than you. You’ve never lied to me. But this…”

“I know it’s a lot to swallow. But it’s true, every word.” She learned toward him, anxious for him to believe her. “I need one person on my side I can talk to about all of this, someone who understands me and won’t judge. It’s always been you. Please don’t humor me, or tell me I’m imagining things because of all the stress. I’m not. It’s real.”

She hadn’t realized she’d raised her voice until he laid a hand on her knee and spoke softly. “It’s all right, my friend. I need proof just as much as you do when it comes to just about anything I’m told. Job hazard, you know? But because we’ve known each other so long, I trust that you’re telling me the truth.”

“You’d still like proof, though, wouldn’t you?” She managed a small smile.

“I’m an agent.” He shrugged, as if that said it all. And it did.

“Thanks for listening, even if you’re still skeptical about supernatural stuff.”

“You’re my best friend, and that’s what friends do.” Finishing off his beer, he set it on the table and watched her intently. “What will you do about this Aric guy?”

“What can I do? He said he doesn’t feel the same pull toward me that I feel for him. Jesus, my guts are