I fell asleep again and, that time, I didn’t wake up for twelve straight hours.

Twenty-six

When I woke up, the room was bright with natural light, and Marc’s alarm clock read 1:44. Thursday afternoon. Shit. I sat up too fast and gasped over the pain in my…everything, as the room seemed to swim around me.

“Whoa, slow down,” Marc said from the desk chair, and I jumped, then flinched at the second flare of pain. I hadn’t smelled him because the entire room already smelled like him. The chair creaked as he stood, then the bed squealed as he sat next to me. “How do you feel?”

“Like I should have Shifted five hours ago. Why did you let me sleep so long? I need to call my uncle.” I threw back the covers and was surprised to discover that I was still wearing the shirt I’d fought in the day before, still stiff with my own dried blood. I stood—and almost screamed when my left foot hit the floor. My sore hip had stiffened while I slept, and a test movement from my left arm revealed that the same had happened with my shoulder.

“He already called. I told him you were still recuperating, and he’s expecting a call from you this afternoon.”

“Marc, you have to tell me when one of our allies calls! We have a lot to do, and we need their help. I’m the Alpha now!”

“You’re going to be a dead Alpha if you don’t take time to rest and heal.”

“Consider me rested. And healing’s on the agenda for today, too. But first I need to talk to Uncle Rick. Where’s my phone?” When my heart stopped trying to pound its way out of my chest, I headed for my suitcase, in spite of the sharp pain in my side and my left hip.

“It’s on the charger in the living room. What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to talk to my uncle, then I’m going to Shift until I’m healed. Didn’t I just say that?”

Marc huffed. “I was talking long-term. Yesterday you said you had an idea.”

“Oh.” I rummaged through the bag on Marc’s dresser for a pair of exercise shorts and a T-shirt, since I wouldn’t shower until after I’d Shifted enough to be presentable in human society. “Yeah. We’re going to fight, and we’re going to do it the right way. With the element of surprise on our side, and all our allies and men in place. Including the thunderbirds. Malone and his men can’t defend against them any better than we could. The birds are going to be the determining factor in his war. We’re gonna take back the ranch and the Pride. Permanently.”

“So…road trip?” Jace asked from the doorway, and I nodded.

“Yeah. Once I’m healed enough to be seen in public.” I started to pull my arms from the bloody turtleneck, but stopped when the pain in my side shot through my entire torso.

“Here, let me.” Marc was at my side before I could answer, and I could hear Jace’s teeth grind together from across the room as Marc ran his hands lightly up my sides beneath my shirt, holding it up so I could pull my arms free. He even stretched out the neck so it wouldn’t brush my broken nose when he lifted it over my head. Jace stomped out of the room when Marc helped me into the shorts and clean T-shirt, still careful with my damaged face, but I hurt too badly to care whose feelings were bruised and who’d just used me to assert his dominance. Again.

Dressed, I limped into the front of the house for my phone.

The living room looked like a sleepaway camp. Someone had propped the air mattresses against one wall, but there wasn’t enough furniture for everyone to have a seat, so most of the guys sat on the floor, playing cards in the middle of the living room. Manx was nursing Des on the couch, and Owen sat next to her, reassuring her softly that everything would be okay. They wouldn’t be homeless for long. That I’d find a way to get us back home, or to start a new home. That she and the baby would be safe.

My mother was rattling around the kitchen, clanging pans, openly lamenting Marc’s utter lack of a twenty-quart stockpot.

Kaci sat at the card table with Holly and Michael, playing the Shifters home version of Fact or Fiction. “So…what about allergies?” Holly asked, as I stepped around a pillow someone had left on the floor and narrowly missed an open suitcase. “Is anyone ever allergic to you guys? Because of cat dander?”

I rolled my eyes, glad she seemed to be adjusting, and Kaci laughed. Michael chuckled softly. “I think our dander is mostly human.”

“Hey, how do you feel?” my mother asked, as I pulled my phone free of its cord on the kitchen counter. “You don’t look much better.”

“Thanks.” I forced a smile. She was right. The bruises around my eyes were darker than they’d been the day before, the side of my head was swollen and horrifically tender to the touch, and my rib felt like it was being recracked with every step I took. But my poor nose…The bridge was very puffy and discolored, and the only bright side I could find, after an extensive search, was that thanks to Dr. Carver, it wouldn’t heal crooked. “I feel like I got trampled by a bruin stampede, but I’ll be better after I’ve had a chance to Shift and shower.”

My mother opened her mouth, probably to tell me to be careful. But then she only closed her mouth and gave me a sad smile, and I could see in it everything she’d left unsaid—every consuming fear for me—and I loved her for both her concern and her restraint.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, and her smile developed, like one of those old Polaroids, suddenly brighter, where it had been gray before.