Range couldn’t believe the surreal path today had taken.

As if the shit he went through with her wasn’t bad enough, he was shot. Shot, for fuck’s sake. In the civilian world. It wasn’t like he was on a mission or in a combat zone.

Shot by some damned rednecks.

He’d dropped like a rock when the round pierced him. He’d felt his blood ebbing away and knew he had one choice, and one choice only.

He needed to hibernate heal.

It would put him at risk and make him vulnerable, but the other option was sure death from bleeding out if he didn’t surrender to his wolf fully and let it go into a deep sleep which would help accelerate his healing.

Trusting the woman he’d come to know as Eira Winter to not abandon him, he’d yielded to his wolf and fallen into an unconsciousness that wasn’t much more than a comatose state.

So, what woke him up? He knew he wasn’t fully healed. His wolf had awoken when she’d laid her hand on him. Why had his wolf done that?

And now? With him still in his wolf form, she’d brought him to an apartment that looked like it was decorated by the same people who decorated hotel rooms. It was generic and showed no personality. Not hers, and not her roommates.

She led him through the living area to the last door on the left in the hallway.

She opened the door, and after he followed her in, she closed it.

The room had a set of double doors that led to a balcony. The full moon’s brilliance shone through the open curtains, illuminating the room.

It looked like it had been furnished by a Spartan. There was nothing of luxury there. This woman lived like a warrior.

She turned to face him. “I should take a look at your wound. Let me get some towels. I’ll be right back.” Eira slipped through a doorway attached to her bedroom.

Range shifted into his human form swiftly and almost silently. He’d become that adept at shifting over the years. It was part of the military training they’d had to undergo.

It was also supposed to improve after the experimental shit he and his brothers had agreed to.

She walked into the room and dropped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide she was holding. “What the hell?”

Her eyes were wide, and glued to his shirt.

He glanced down. No wonder she was stunned. The amount of blood on his clothing should have led to his death.

“How can you be breathing after losing that much blood?” She scooped the bottle up and advanced on him.

“I heal fast.”

She narrowed her eyes, her violet gaze skeptical. “How fast?”

He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It wasn’t like he could wear it out of here anyway; it was a mess.

She studied his chest. “Unbelievable. You heal faster than—”

“Heal faster than what?”

Was she going to say that she healed fast? Was she going to reveal what she was?

She poured peroxide on a small towel, then laid it against his chest, making slow circles.

She gasped. “Wow.” She laid the washcloth on the dresser, then turned back to him. She touched the spot where the round had gone in, the flesh was still pink, still healing.

Range drew in a sharp breath. Her touch sent electrical shocks radiating from the spot where her cool fingertips touched his flesh.

“Did I hurt you?” Her voice was gentle, her eyes glittering like rare jewels in the room.

“No.”

The sound of a door opening was then followed by the sound of voices.

Eira froze, then let out a soft whoosh of a breath. “Shit,” she whispered.

“Roommates?” He kept his voice low.

She nodded.

He got the message and didn’t move a muscle or say a word. He wondered if they—whatever they were—had supernatural hearing like shifters did.

Shifters could hear a heartbeat, even a baby’s heartbeat if a woman were pregnant. Then he wondered if they could pick up scents as well as shifters could. They’d smell him.

Hell, they’ll smell my blood.

She moved slowly, toward the door, and he wondered if she was going to lock it or slip out and act naturally, pretending there wasn’t a guy in her room.

And what was wrong with having a guy in her room anyway? She was grown. Couldn’t she do as she pleased? Surely, she didn’t have to answer to her roommates if she wanted to have a guy in her bedroom.

The thought of that didn’t sit well with him. It brought to mind the notion that there might have been other men here before.

Yeah, that’s not what I want to think about.

Not one bit.

He never had a chance to find out whether she was going to lock it or slip out.

Her bedroom door opened swiftly and two of the three women he’d seen her with the last few days strode in; one was carrying a pair of shoes.

“Eira!” the one with hair about the same color as Eira’s exclaimed.

“What the—” the one behind her, a blonde, sputtered.

That seemed to have brought the brunette in.

They all stared at him as if he’d grown horns. He looked back at them coolly.

“You have a guy in here!” The blonde practically screeched.

“You know better,” the other redhead admonished.

To his surprise, the usually chill redhead that Eira was had vanished.

Her skin had paled, her eyes widened, and she began to clench and unclench her fists.

Range realized he didn’t have a shirt on, but it’s not like he could grab his. That would raise all sorts of questions, what with all that blood.

Seemed finally Eira regained her composure enough to try to herd the roommates out while at the same time saying, “It’s a long story.”

She had just hustled them out and was closing the door when a hand reached in and grabbed her wrist, then yanked her through the open doorway.

Another hand closed the door.

The next thing Range heard was a balcony door opening and then closing.

Great. Now what? Stay? Go? Where could he go? He spied his truck keys on the bed where she’d put them.

He could go.

Nah, he couldn’t.

He had way too many questions.

That’s not the only reason he couldn’t go.

Eira was the primary reason.

There was something about her. Something he couldn’t leave behind.

And damned if his wolf didn’t snarl in agreement.