Wyatt pounded along the sidewalk, half-running. He drew more than a few stares but he didn't care. He had to find Bryony right now, no matter what. Ducking and dodging passersby on the quiet street, he headed toward the store she'd said she was in.

Renata's. He'd asked around the station and after getting only vague directions, he'd typed the name into his phone and got its exact location. He'd been semi-aware of jumping into his vehicle, Mac racing around to the passenger door to slide in beside him while muttering something about getting there faster in a patrol car, but Wyatt was too focused with fear to pay attention. He'd raced as fast as he dared to the small shopping area in which his phone told him the store was located, pulling into the first spot that seemed able to park a car and leaping out to race along the sidewalk, Mac behind him.

There. A pretty storefront window proclaimed it to be Renata's, with a fancy pair of scissors painted onto the sign below the name. Reaching forward, Wyatt yanked open the door and pulled it back, taking a step backwards as he did. His foot slammed down hard on something, drawing a yelp. Glancing back, he saw he'd somehow drawn the young rookie tagalong as well.

Fine by him. If he was about to face down the wrath of a demon, he wanted as much backup with him as possible. Of course, he had no idea whether or not Khain was actually here, or he would have had way more backup than this. But he wasn't really worried about that. Bryony hadn't sounded scared when he briefly talked her on the phone. Just completely bewildered.

As he opened the door, Wyatt lunged inside, quickly skidding to a stop on the slick floor. Bryony sat in the chair, her long dark hair hanging wet around her face, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised as she stared at him and his small retinue. Next to her, a slightly older woman stood, clutching a pair of scissors and looking concurrently defensive, worried, and appreciative.

Frowning in some confusion at the appreciation part of it, Wyatt took one more step toward Bryony before stopping, his heart racing. She was here. She was okay. An enormous relief slipped down over him. "Are you okay? Is anyone else in here?" He snapped his gaze around the small room, but he knew Mac had probably entered the small business in a more circumspect manner, rapidly examining every nook and cranny for any potential danger. His own quick scan told him the little shop was empty aside from the two startled women.

"I'm fine.” Bryony's voice was concerned but not at all panicked. “What the heck is going on? Seeing you and Mac twice in one day has to be one for the record books. Not to mention your phone call." She glanced behind him and frowned. "And this time you brought one more, and he's even in uniform? Should I be worried?"

The rookie stepped out from behind Wyatt, beginning to say something, but Wyatt cut him off. Rookies weren't always to be trusted when they opened their mouths. "He's on the local force. He's a rookie just out doing more training with me and Mac, is all." He scrubbed a quick hand over his eyes. He needed to focus. It felt like his entire world had been shaken in the last hour.

Taking a breath, he reached out and gently laid his hands on top of Bryony's shoulders, leaning forward to look directly into her eyes. Holding her felt—right. "You said you remember the stories I used to tell you when we were kids." He searched her face.

She nodded, her eyes looking back and forth between his, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. His heart thumped hard at how beautiful she was. At just how Bryony she was.

"I'm going to fill in all the blanks for you, the recent stuff you've missed. But," he gave a quick glance at the woman standing next to Bryony, who was still smiling at at him as if he were some sort of rare object that she clearly approved of, "in private. And somewhere I know you'll be safe."

There was silence in the small shop as Bryony looked at him even longer, her face expressionless. Shit. He'd pushed too hard earlier, with his over-the-top protectiveness, and she wasn't going to listen. Could he really blame her? But to his surprise, she finally nodded once.

"Okay. I'll go with you and listen to whatever it is you have to tell me." Her face softened and she whispered. "I told you at dinner the other night that I remembered everything. And I believed it. After all, you always believed in me."

Behind him, Wyatt heard Mac grunt in curiosity, but he wasn't about to go into more depth right now. Instead, he nodded back at Bryony, feeling wonder touch him inside again. "Let's go. I'm taking you to my place."

“Hold on.” Mac stepped forward, shaking his head. "Your place isn't exactly a fortress. There's a better option to take her to right now. It's where all the other, ah, witness protection people are being kept."

Seriously, that was his cover story? Witness protection? Wyatt finally swung his head around to give Mac a what the hell look. The other woman in the store breathed, "Witness protection? Bryony, what you gotten yourself into now? Well, now. Your hottie patottie keeps getting more interesting."

Hottie patottie? Wyatt grimaced as he turned around to look at the older woman, who still sized him up with a naughty little smile on her face. She went on, "You didn't tell me you're involved in something dangerous with him, too. Whoo, girl. I like it.” She fanned herself. “You're telling me the whole story as soon as you can. It'll be sooner than your next appointment with me, you hear?"

Bryony smiled, standing up. “Yes, Renata. Okay, crazy guy,” she said, looking at Wyatt and holding out her hand. “I'm ready for the rest of the story now.”

Wyatt took her hand, feeling the dual softness of her skin yet strength of her fingers. His Bryony had two sides like that.

His Bryony?

Yes, he decided as he guided her through the store and out to Bryony’s car, Mac pacing ahead of them with a deadly watchful look around. His Bryony, no matter what.

As long as she was cool with it, too. He sure as hell hoped she was. It was still too hard to tell.

On the short drive to his house, which he took with Mac and the rookie kid following behind, they were silent. Bryony stared out the window, obviously thinking about everything. But she was present. She wasn't distant. He sensed how open she was, how willing.

This time, he swore to himself with grim intent, he'd better not screw it up again by acting like a fucking he-man who wanted to throw his mate over his shoulder and march off to his cave with her.

Even if he did.

When they got to Wyatt's place Bryony didn't say anything, just examined the small house. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he said in a gruff voice, "It's just temporary. Just a rental till I can find something I really like. I swear it's pretty decent inside."

Frantically, he sifted through his memories of the morning, trying to decide whether or not he'd left the place a pigsty. Deciding it probably wasn't too bad, as long as he kept her away from the kitchen, he glanced back to see the rookie's car pulling up to park right in front of his place, then Mac in Wyatt’s car. Mac nodded at him through the window, phone held up to his face as he talked into it. Good. Mac wasn't going to let Wyatt or Bryony have any unwanted surprises.

When they entered the little house, she made a startled sound. "Oh! This is nicer than I thought it would be."

Firmly closing the door behind them and flipping the lock, Wyatt replied, "Oh, really now? What exactly were you picturing?" He surreptitiously took a look around to make sure the place was in decent shape.

Bryony laughed, the sound sending actual freaking flutters through Wyatt's body. It was nuts. But he had to admit he liked it. "You said it was temporary, so I figured it would be practically empty except for maybe a beanbag chair and some pizza boxes." She shot him a side-eye look, a grin sneaking onto her face.

Wyatt snorted, enjoying the repartee. "I'm not a frat boy. This is a permanent move for me. This particular house just isn't a permanent one is all."

She nodded, her hair flipping prettily over her shoulders as she looked around. The she suddenly caught her breath as her eyes landed on a large framed photo hanging up on the wall of the small living room the front door had opened into. Moving toward it, she looked at it for a long, silent moment. Wyatt watched her looking at the picture, letting his eyes travel back and forth between the barely-familiar woman in the picture and the beautiful woman standing right here in his house.

Finally, she let out a small sigh. "She was so beautiful, and you can tell she was kind, too. How's your dad?"

Simple, polite words, but loaded with meaning. Bryony knew everything about Wyatt's mom having been murdered. She knew everything about how Wyatt had dealt with a loving but very distant, shuttered-down father almost his entire life. "He's good. Retired from the force in Springfield a couple years ago. He's got a girlfriend, he's got some good buddies, he goes hunting and messes around with his model planes, which recently turned into drones instead." Wyatt shrugged again, feeing the usual faint sadness at his dad's lot in life. "Basically, he's content."

Bryony turned to look at him, her eyes sympathetic and understanding. "Content but not happy?"

He tightened his lips for a moment before nodding. "Something like that. He's not exactly unhappy, but he's a lot better than he used to be when I was a kid." He grinned suddenly. "Back when you and I knew each other. My little shadow following me everywhere, not giving me a moment's peace."

He was close enough to her that she could turn and lightly thump him on the ribs with her hand. "Hey, now." Her smooth tones teased. "As I recall, I proved I could keep up with all the big kids and hold my own. I also proved," she added more softly, her voice now getting serious again, "that I was a true friend you could tell anything to, even back when I was so young."

Her eyes studied him for another long moment, leaving Wyatt felt stripped bare. It was unsettling and exciting at the same time. He wanted her to know him. He wanted her to see him.

"Wyatt, tell me why I'm here. Tell me exactly what's going on. Tell me," her voice wobbled for a brief moment but she didn't break her eye contact with him, "why when you and I kissed the other night, then you went ballistic on that guy out there, and I saw one of my things”—one of her odd little visions, he knew she meant—“what I saw showed me standing side-by-side with you forever...but at the same time drenched in blood. My blood,” she added very softly.

Wyatt felt his own face drain of all his blood as he stared, horrified, at the woman he knew without doubt was his mate. The woman who'd just told him she'd seen her own death.

Because of him.