My dreams were full of deserts and a too-hot sun burning me, leaving me parched and exhausted, mirages of other people passing through my vision. At times, I knew I was trapped in that state between waking and sleeping, and at others, it seemed all too real. I drifted back and forth with no sense of time and no idea of how I had arrived here. And then I dreamed of night falling, of cool air kissing my body, and the dreams of the desert whisked away.

Waking was a slow and halting thing. The first time, I woke in utter darkness, but as I clutched the sheets below me, I recognized the too-real detail that proved I was truly awake. Just knowing that I had escaped my dreamland was surety enough, and my eyes closed easily, slipping into a true sleep. The next time, the room was dimly lit by a small lamp that sat on a desk next to my bed. The room was strange—the walls curved and rounded, the ceiling low and uneven. Only one thing in the room felt familiar at all, but that one thing was deeply reassuring.

"Ryan." I tried to shout, but the air caught in my throat and I gagged, coughing at the unexpected catch of a dry tongue.

Ryan sat up immediately at the sound, though, dropping his book with a sudden bang as he grabbed a glass of water and pulled me up so I could drink.

The water soothed away the dry irritation, and after I had drained it, I tried again. "Ryan? Where are we?"

"This is the artreans' home." Ryan picked up a pitcher of water and refilled the glass. I took it, but held it loosely.

"Why are we here?"

Ryan picked the book up off the floor. "I am here researching since our best researcher decided to offer himself up for an outdoor barbecue a few days ago."

I splashed a little water into my hand and scrubbed my face. What did he mean, barbecue?

Memories began to erupt in flashes. Ernest Wamp. Ben. Fire.

"Is Ben okay?"

Ryan nodded. "He and the baby are fine. You saved them."

I handed him the glass of water and fell back on the pillow. That was all that mattered.

"That phoenix fried you pretty good."

I turned my head. "So, you believe the phoenix exists now?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know, but it's hard to deny that something is going on when a kid with flamethrower hands blows a truck up right in front of you."

"What?"

"He slammed Asher's truck pretty good. I missed the fight—got a concussion from the crash. But I got a clear view of that."

I didn't remember anything after pushing Ben out of the way. "They had us dead to rights. Why didn't they finish us off?"

"I guess Asher and Simon's arrival scared them off. They jumped in their truck when they arrived, and then blasted Asher's on their way out."

"No one else got hurt?" Now that I was more awake, I could feel the twitches and aches of muscles that had been abused and then still for too long.

"Just a few scratches and scrapes."

We fell silent for a while. I could feel the exhaustion creeping up on me. "I... I think I'm going to sleep for a little while."

Ryan opened his book again. "I'll probably be here when you wake up."

That was reassuring. I thought about thanking him, but I was already half asleep before the thought crossed my mind.

* * *

Meredith stood behind the shoulder of the woman she had said was their lead healer, Suzanne. Suzanne wore her long, gray hair in a thick braid that went past her waist, and she had been careful and gentle, though not hesitant, in removing my bandages when I woke the second time, for longer. Meredith had brought a bowl of soup for me to eat after they were done. Suzanne nodded cheerfully as she prodded my skin. It twinged, but it didn't ache long afterward.

"Your mate will be happy to hear you're well enough to return home." Suzanne chuckled.

My first thought was of Ben, but I dismissed that. We had never spoken of anything more beyond our trysts. He was still in mourning and I... I wasn’t sure I’d make a good mate. "I don't have a mate."

Suzanne chuckled again, undeterred. "Perhaps you don't realize you have a mate yet, but that young man hasn't been pestering your alpha every hour for the last four days just because he likes your cooking."

"I don't coo—" She was teasing me. I had trouble telling with some people.

She patted me knee. "Don't worry. I'll pass on the news and you'll see him soon enough to sort out labels and such. Do you folk not like the word 'mates' anymore? Is it partners or lovers? It's been a while since I've spent a good amount of time with a group of shifters."

"Grandmother," Meredith chided.

Suzanne used Meredith's support to stand and waved off her reprimand. "I'll check on you again tomorrow, and as long as nothing changes, you can head home then."

Meredith shook her head as the older woman left. "Sorry. Sometimes she's a bit much."

"Is 'grandmother' just a title?" Meredith looked too old to have any living grandmothers. I... probably shouldn't say that to her face. She was probably only slightly older than me, in her forties or so.

"No, that's my actual grandmother. You'd think after over a century of life she'd learn some tact, but she just gets more outrageous every year."

My eyes bugged out. The way Suzanne had hobbled out, I'd known she was old, but if she was actually over a century... she was looking extremely spry. "How... old?"

Meredith's eyes twinkled. She was enjoying my befuddlement. "She's one hundred and forty-seven years old." Her grin grew as my jaw dropped and she leaned forward to whisper. "And don't let anyone else know, but I'm sixty-two."

I studied her face to see if she was just messing me, but I couldn't tell for sure. She smiled, but she didn't take her words back.

"Here, drink your broth." She handed me the bowl and I looked into it with a frown.

"It's just liquid."

"No solids until tomorrow," Meredith said firmly. "I'll show myself out."

I was alone. I was used to being alone, preferred it most of the time, but right now, my mind was plagued with the hopes that Suzanne had stirred up. I had saved Ben's life, of course he was asking about me. Anyone would. That didn't mean he felt anything stronger for me than gratitude.

Damn it. Until that woman had spoken, I was content with what we had. I was content to be whatever Ben needed me to be; content to ask nothing more. But I couldn't help think of the hole that would have been left in my life if that fireball had hit him straight on. He'd slipped into my life so suddenly and quietly and made a space for himself, a Ben and Evan sized space, that I would be lost if that space was suddenly empty.

I couldn't hold on to the hope. If Suzanne were mistaken, the pain of losing that hope was nearly the same as losing Ben in reality. Hope was an elevator with a faulty cable. It lifted you higher and higher until the cable broke, sending you crashing to the ground. The greater your hopes, the farther your fall. I'd learned that lesson the hard way as a kid. I had no desire to relearn it now. I did my best to raise the walls I’d learned to build as a child. I couldn’t afford to let false hope derail me from the true mission: to find Ben’s kid and kill Earnest Wamp.