Little by little, Max’s anger lessened. His body relaxed enough for him to breathe a lungful.

Vivienne anchored him as effectively as one of those pills a counselor prescribed for him when he was thirteen and full of rage. The difference was that the medication had left him groggy, numb, and depressed, while Vivienne’s touch made him feel whole.

His arms wound around her back, gently pressing her against his chest. Even at the height of his fury, he had felt her soft lips brushing the spot over his heart as she said she was there for him. Besides his parents and Wilson, nobody else had ever stood by his side. No woman had ever offered him any emotional support in those occasions when he could’ve used a gentle touch or a nice word.

Vivienne didn’t owe him anything. Yet, she had gone above and beyond for him and Amber Rose already.

“Thank you,” he whispered, bending to brush her cheek.

She shivered in his arms. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything.”

Vivienne had stopped him before he had a fit of rage and let his dragon loose in the hospital.

She leaned her head against his heart, her hands on his chest. For a moment, only the two of them existed. Slowly, the rest of the room came into focus, and Max remembered that Wilson was still in there.

His friend’s eyes were wide, and his expression was shocked as he looked at Vivienne. Wilson knew firsthand how dangerous trying to calm down Max could be. Once, when they were in high school, one of the teachers said something derogatory about a half-breed were-panther, and Max’s rage had ignited with catastrophic consequences. Wilson stood in Max’s path as he was shifting and took the brunt of the dragon’s fiery temper. The sense of guilt and shame had kept Max company for months. Something good came out of it, though, because Max started martial arts and meditation, and more or less kept in check the worst of his nature.

Tonight, Max’s fury built up fast. He didn’t have time to breathe or apply any of the calming techniques he had learned in Tibet. If it hadn’t been for Vivienne, he would’ve shifted, caused great damage all around him, possibly hurting her, Wilson, and anyone else on his destructive path.

He would’ve lost Amber Rose. Social services would’ve never let her stay with him if it turned out he had anger management problems.

The realization made him recoil in pain.

“Max,” Vivienne said, looking at him with worry etched on her beautiful face. She raised one hand to his cheek and stroked him.

“Max, are you okay?” Wilson asked.

Max could only nod as Vivienne dragged him to a chair. She weighed maybe ninety pounds wet but moved him nonetheless. He sat with a loud thud and leaned his head against the wall, looking at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The room swam all around him, and he shut his eyes closed to get his bearings, glad Vivienne made him sit.

“Get him some coffee,” Vivienne said.

Steps shuffled outside, and a moment later Wilson came back alongside the smell of hospital coffee.

“Here,” his friend said.

Max blinked, and Wilson came to focus. “Thank you.” He accepted the brown Styrofoam cup and took a tentative sip.

“Better?” Vivienne asked when he had swallowed more than half the cup.

Max breathed twice, letting as much oxygen in his lungs as he could get before answering with a nod.

“Good.” Vivienne smiled at him, her hand on his arm, gently squeezing.

Doctor Kalisten chose that moment to come back.

“Is something wrong?” Max immediately asked, jumping to the most horrible conclusion.

The doctor looked tired, and her grim expression only intensified his fear. “Amber Rose’s condition hasn’t improved, but it isn’t worse either. It gives us hope.”

“Okay,” he muttered.

“I wanted to let you know that Amber Rose might need a transfusion, and we have called the Shifter Blood Bank already,” the doctor said. Her cell phone went off. Her eyes squinted at the message on the screen. “There’s an emergency.” She strode to the door and added before exiting the waiting room, “It’s not your daughter.”

Max fell back to the chair. He didn’t remember standing up, and his legs shook as if he had run for days uphill.

His eyes went to the television again, but Vivienne stepped in front of him. “Shut it off,” she said over her shoulder at Wilson, who immediately complied.

“Turning off the TV doesn’t make the problem go away.” Max pinched the arch of his nose.

“No, but it helps keep you and your dragon under control.” Wilson never minced words. It was one of the reasons they had immediately hit it off when they were kids.

“You should eat something,” Vivienne said, eyeing the empty cup Max had inadvertently crushed.

“There’s a vending machine just around the corner.” Wilson patted his pants pocket. “My treat,” he said, producing a leather wallet. “Any preference?” He looked at Vivienne.

“Anything with chocolate will work,” she said.

Wilson nodded before turning to Max. “Everything else for you, and chocolate.”

Once they were alone, Vivienne sat next to Max. She didn’t say anything. Another trait he liked about her. She wasn’t one of those women who needed to fill the silence with a string of words.

This time, it was he who needed to talk. “I’ve never thought I could love someone as I love my daughter. I’ve just met her, and I would give my life for her, no questions asked. Is it normal?”

His biological parents hadn’t cared for him. Deep inside, he had always feared their DNA would make him an indifferent father and vowed he would never abandon a child of his, even though he might be unable to love his progeny. But he had been wrong and was glad for it despite the pain cleaving him in two.

“It is,” she answered after a long pause. “A parent’s love for their child is the strongest force in the universe.” Sadness loaded her words, and her eyes were downcast.

Max raised her chin gently. “You’ll be a wonderful mother one day.”

The image of the three of them—he, Vivienne, and Amber Rose—hugging flashed before his eyes.