“Sounds like you know my brother well,” she said.

“We were in the SEALs together, and later joined the Pack. I guess when you practically live with guys for years, you sometimes know them better than their own families do.”

Stark pain crossed her face. “Too true.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. “I didn’t mean to imply I know Micah better than you do.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sure in many respects you do.” Pausing, she looked down, absently regarding his IV. “Micah never told me he left the SEALs and joined Alpha Pack. I’m assuming you were all forbidden from telling your families where you were and what you were actually doing?”

“Under Terry Noble’s leadership, yes. Nick urges us to be careful what we say to our families and old friends outside this place, but he’s not quite as rigid as Terry was. He trusts our judgment.”

Pinning him with her gaze again, she asked, “What do you tell your family?”

“Nothing,” he said shortly. “I don’t have a family anymore. My mother is dead.”

Beryl, the bitch, and his stepfather didn’t count. He didn’t give a damn where the old bastard was now or what had happened to him, and the next time he met up with Beryl, he’d tear out her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” He tried a reassuring smile. “It was a long time ago. I shipped off to the Navy and she died after my first deployment.”

He hadn’t been able to leave home fast enough after she’d married the asshole. Had waited years for his freedom, then joined the service and never saw her again. The pain and guilt never healed.

Rowan didn’t seem to know how else to respond, and settled on steering the topic to her brother again. “You were held captive with Micah.”

So here it was—the real reason for her visit. He’d wondered when she’d get around to it. “Yeah, but I didn’t know he was there until right before we were rescued.”

“Did he say anything to you about what they did to him?” Anxiety laced every word.

“He wasn’t conscious by the time I was placed in the cage next to him,” he said carefully. “Until he wakes up, we can only speculate on what he went through.”

“But they were experimenting on people in that awful place.”

“Yes.”

“You, too?”

Nope, not going there. “Look, I don’t have the answers you want. I wish I did—then maybe I could help him.”

For the first time, her posture slumped. “That’s all I want, too. I’d just hoped… well, never mind. You’ve obviously been through the wringer and I’ve kept you awake. Thanks for talking with me.”

“Anytime.”

She turned to go and he realized he meant that—he’d like to be there if she needed him. In fact, he didn’t want her to go at all, but there wasn’t a good way to encourage her to stay without sounding like a creeper, what with being a stranger and Micah being so sick.

Before she reached the door, she looked at him over her shoulder. “I hope you’re feeling better and out of here fast.”

“I feel better already,” he replied softly. He held her gaze to make sure she got the message.

A quick smile, and she was gone.

Aric sagged into the pillows with a heavy sigh. “Jesus, what’s wrong with me?”

Already he hated her being away from him. Where he couldn’t get to know her. Touch her.

Fuck her against the wall.

Hadn’t something similar happened to Jax when he’d met Kira?

“Oh, shit.”

No. That was not what was wrong with him! His neglected libido was reacting to an unattached female, nothing more. Wait—was she single? He hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a boyfriend.

His wolf snarled, totally pissed off at the notion that there might be another male in her life. Someone waiting for her, wherever she was from. His lungs constricted, it became hard to breathe, and he knew one thing for sure.

He. Was. Fucked.

Closing the door behind her, Rowan leaned against the wall, allowing her composure to crumble. The man—Aric—was every bit as delicious as she’d thought when she saw him last night. More so, with the beard gone. Deep auburn hair falling around that sexy-as-sin face, startling green eyes that had seen too much. Intelligence sharp as the blade of a knife. He was—

“What the hell am I thinking?”

Micah was deathly ill, and he needed her at his side. She had to help him pull through. That was why she went to see Aric, to find out if he had any insight into what had happened to her brother. Not to moon over the wolf like a teenager.

Wolf. Crap, was she actually starting to accept all of this? Looked like she had no choice, really. Hard to refute what was right in front of your face, and last night had been the clincher. Thanks to a crash course, her thinking about the world and the creatures in it was already changing.

Pushing away from the wall, she walked two doors down to Micah’s room and padded inside. The silence was eerie, life evidenced only by the beep of a monitor and the rise and fall of her brother’s chest. Pulling up a chair, she sat and gazed into his now clean-shaven, but still ruined, face, willing him to open his eyes.

Heart aching, she rested her arm on the bed and stroked his hair. During the long, lonely night, she’d attempted to brush it, thinking the action might stimulate him somehow, but the locks were such a snarled mess it would take a haircut and several washings, plus a good conditioner, to have it looking decent again.

“You’ll feel better when your hair is clean,” she whispered to him. “You’ll see. We’re gonna make sure you eat well, take lots of vitamins. When you’re stronger, we’ll work out together and I’ll beat you at the hundred-yard dash like I always have. Right?”

The man slept on, and she had to wonder if he was dreaming. If she gave in to exhaustion and drifted off, would she be able to reach him? Faced with days ahead of watching him lie there like a corpse, she was desperate enough to try anything.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to coax her tired brain to cooperate. Her head felt so heavy, she needed to rest it on the bed next to his shoulder, just for a little while. The instant she did, sleep claimed her.

A loud keening noise burst into her awareness and quickly ramped into a hideous, drawn-out scream. Rowan bolted upright, pulse pounding, hand automatically reaching for the gun that still hadn’t been returned to her. A glance at Micah cleared the cobwebs in a hurry.

Her brother’s body was taut as a bowstring, dark head back, eyes screwed shut as he gripped the sheets, screaming as though he was being skewered and sliced into little pieces.

“Oh, my God! Micah!” Without thinking, she laid a palm on his chest, hoping to calm him. Instead, he began to thrash. “Honey, it’s me, Rowan!”

At that, he flung himself sideways off the bed. Where he got the strength she had no clue, but she made a desperate grab for him and was taken to the tiled floor so hard the air left her lungs in a rush. They landed in a jumble of limbs and his IV line, and the rolling thing that held the bag of fluid crashed to the ground as well. He fought like a wildcat—or a terrified wolf—as she pushed him facedown and lay across his back in an attempt to subdue him.

“Micah, stop!”

“No! Ahhhhh!”

He was completely out of his head. Fighting his tormentors. He bucked wildly, shouting, trying to get the leverage to dislodge her.

“Someone help me!” she yelled.

Even in his horrible condition, Micah’s well of strength was incredible. Drawing up his knees, he flung himself backward. Rowan was along for the ride and the back of her head slammed into the floor, pain blasting through her skull. Her vision grayed out, but she saw Micah looming over her, lips pulled back in a feral snarl, his normally brown eyes gone black. His nose began to elongate into a snout, fur sprouting around his face.

He’s going to kill me.