“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

The shade disappeared. The sun burned down on them, beating through Misty’s thin tank top. She was in shorts too, which she wore when getting deliveries ready to go in the mornings, and the sun was hot on her skin.

Misty had lived in southern Nevada long enough to know what over a hundred degrees felt like, and this was it. It might get up to a hundred and ten today, and possibly higher than that. Out here, the temperature of the desert floor could rise to a hundred and twenty and more.

“We need shade,” Misty said.

“No kidding,” was Graham’s helpful answer. “Not in that shed. Don’t feel like lying on a rusty nail right now.”

Blood poisoning would finish him. There was only so much even Shifters could take.

A nice cool cave with an underground spring would be perfect. That was too much to hope for, but the mountain they were up against might have a niche or something out of the sun. The mining shaft was out, even if it hadn’t been filled in. Old shafts were dangerously unstable and full of vertical shafts that could drop hundreds of feet.

Misty had done enough desert hiking to know that rocks in shade absorbed coolness overnight, and gave off that coolness during the day. Even on the hottest afternoons, a niche that had stayed in shadow all morning could be twenty degrees lower than the rocks just outside it.

Misty squeezed Graham’s shoulder again. “I’m going to look for shade. I don’t like to move you, but I don’t want to watch you burn to a crisp either.”

“I’m worried about you more.” Graham reached for her hand, his brows drawing down. “Humans die fast in the heat.”

“I’m not that delicate. I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

“You are that delicate. And you think you’re funny too.”

Misty leaned down and gave him a soft kiss across his cracked lips, her own as dry. Graham could barely move his mouth in response.

When Misty lifted her head, she saw a flash of naked emotion in Graham’s eyes. Need, longing, loneliness, the weight of his position as alpha. On top of that, a tenderness for her.

Misty stilled a moment, soaking it in. She’d never seen any kind of sentiment in Graham for her. Liking yes, and he’d charged out here to rescue her today, but she’d never seen this flash of stark feeling.

She hated that this might be the last time she saw it. If he died today . . .

Misty wouldn’t let him. She kissed Graham one more time then rose and brushed herself off. Graham watched her, still frowning. “You be careful, understand me?” he rumbled.

“I will.”

“If I have to come looking for you, I’ll be pissed off.”

“I know.” She sent him another smile. “Be right back.”

Graham didn’t answer. He moved a little, grunting in pain, but Misty made herself walk away from him.

She started for the ridge above them, finding a narrow wash that gave her a clear path upward through the scrub. She went slowly, picking her way along, the wash full of loose rocks. If she fell and broke something, they could both die out here before Dougal returned.

Misty made for a fold of rock that jutted out into the slope from the desert floor. These mountains looked smooth from the distance, but close to, they were clumped with boulders, tough weeds, creosote, and critters. The critters were mostly lizards and birds for now—not too many bugs liked the hot, dry afternoons. But in the evening, crawly things would be everywhere, including snakes. Snakes liked dusk, when they slithered out in droves to soak up the last warmth of the rocks. When the snakes emerged, so would the coyotes.

Misty rounded one particularly large clump of boulders and was rewarded with the sight of a narrow opening between two big rocks. Going carefully, keeping an eye out for snakes that might have come out early, she squeezed herself through the niche.

It was a tight fit. Misty held her breath and inched along, promising herself she’d go back if it got too tight. She couldn’t afford to get stuck, and if Graham couldn’t fit, the shelter would be useless to him.

Once more step, and Misty popped through. She stopped, looking around in surprise.

A giant cave opened out from the rocks, lit by sunlight streaming through a hole in the granite wall high above. Reflections danced everywhere, caused by a burbling spring that spread out into a pool at the far end of the cave.

“A nice cool cave with an underground spring,” Misty whispered. “What do you know?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Misty moved forward cautiously. The sound of trickling water made the thirst she was trying not to think about soar to life. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her lips were aching and cracked. She needed that water.

Misty wasn’t stupid enough to rush to it, scoop it into her hands, and gulp it down. Water in wild places was likely to be contaminated, especially out here, between a city and a nuclear testing site. Misty might be dying for the water, but she’d be foolish to drink it.

The cave, however, was blissfully cool. If she could get Graham this short distance, they could wait for Dougal here.

The cavern was gigantic from what she could see, as though the whole inside of the mountain had been carved out. The cut in the rock high above, letting in light and air, kept the place from being too damp, but the water cooled it. The faint chill felt like the one in her flower room, always pleasant on a hot afternoon.

Her flower room was nothing but smashed glass and petals now, Misty thought in sorrow. But she’d have to deal with her destroyed shop later. First, she needed to get Graham here where he could rest and cool down.

“Hey,” a voice said.

Misty jumped, her hand going to her chest, her heart banging. A man rose from the other side of the pool of water, where he’d been crouching in the shadows. He wasn’t one of Flores’s gang boys, she saw to her relief. He was a hiker—tall, with blond hair messy from perspiration, wind, and dirt, and wearing a T-shirt, canvas shorts, thick socks, and hiking boots. A backpack, one of the huge kind that could hold supplies for a multiday hike, lay on the ground near him.

“You lost?” he asked, peering at Misty. “Want some water?”

Yes, she wanted water. “You didn’t drink from that stream, did you?” Misty’s voice came out a croak.

“Didn’t have to.” The man held up a bottle. “Brought it with me. You sound terrible. You need help?”