“All right.” Becca held up a digital recorder. The red light blinked, indicating it was running.
“On the record?”
Drake nodded.
“I requested that Councilor Mir assist me in the examination of an agitated young patient. She was very helpful, and at no time was her behavior threatening or in any other way unrestrained. I never considered myself in danger and did not summon security.”
“The councilor has been photographed dozens of times over the last two years,” Becca said, “and she’s never appeared to be anything other than completely controlled. In fact, if you didn’t know, you’d think she was human.” Becca shook the paper. “She doesn’t look human here. What happened?”
One of her Pack was threatened—possibly dying. One of her young.
Drake wondered how much more Sylvan was forced to hide every day in her public dealings. How much of herself she had to deny in order to achieve protection for her Pack. She thought of the TV images of Zachary Gates, the Vampire councilor who appeared as polished and sophisticated as any Wall Street CEO. Then she recalled his daughter’s raw sexual power, the crimson flash of her eyes, and knew humans were being allowed to see only a façade—one the human world would feel comfortable with. The price of survival for the Praetern species was apparently the denial of their fundamental being.
Furious at the injustice, Drake turned and walked away. “I have no further comment.”
After delivering Mary’s mocha latte, Drake knocked on the door to the conference room. Sophia sat at a long table with a dozen charts spread out in front of her. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared when she saw Drake, but her expression seemed to be more surprise than anxiety.
“What?” Drake asked.
“Nothing,” Sophia said quickly.
“Have you found any more cases? Or is that something else the Alpha wouldn’t want you to tell me?”
Sophia straightened, her mouth tightening. “I might be a Were, but I’m also a medic. My responsibility is to all the patients. And I know the Alpha would not want me to put anyone—human or Were—in danger.”
“Sorry.” Drake pulled out a chair and sat down. She rubbed her face and shook the tension from her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to insult your professional integrity. And I know Sylv—your Alpha—is only trying to protect your Pack.”
“I think there are four cases,” Sophia said softly. “No one picked up on a pattern because they were all signed out as drug overdoses.”
“Not that uncommon a diagnosis in the ER population,” Drake agreed. “Patient profiles?”
“All girls. Aged fifteen to seventeen.”
“How many were human?”
Sophia’s deep blue eyes clouded. “All of them.”
Drake’s chest tightened. “I need to speak to your Alpha. Can you contact her?”
“Again?”
“What do you mean?”
Sophia blushed. “Sorry. Her scent—” She lifted a hand in Drake’s direction. “To us, it’s very distinctive.”
“Yes, well,” Drake said, an unexpected ripple of pleasure catching her off balance. She liked that she smelled like Sylvan, and had no idea what to make of that. “Does everyone who comes in contact with her…carry her scent then?”
“No.” Sophia frowned. “The centuri do, of course, but they are oath bonded to her. But I…I don’t recall ever scenting her on anyone else.”
“Must be because I just saw her,” Drake said. “How do I reach her?”
Sophia looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Perhaps call her office?”
“What about you? How would you…any of you, let her know of a problem?” Drake held up her hand when she saw Sophia’s face blank.
“Don’t tell me the details. I know you can’t. Just—could you send her a message from me? It’s important that I speak with her.”
“Yes, but I can’t promise anything.”
Drake sighed and pushed to her feet. “Who can?”
“How is she?” Sylvan asked when Elena met her in the hall outside Misha’s room.
“She’s better. No fever, thankfully. The wound is trying to close, but she needs to shift to complete the healing. She tried, but she’s weak and doesn’t have enough control to do it voluntarily.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Wait.” Elena grasped Sylvan’s hand.
Sylvan gave Elena a questioning look. Niki would not have permitted Elena to physically confront her, but Sylvan took no issue, as they were alone and no challenge was implied. Elena and her mate Roger were beta wolves, lacking overt dominance tendencies but far from being submissive. Their drive was to guide and nurture the Pack, particularly the young, which explained why Elena was a medic and Roger a teacher. Sylvan valued their friendship and their contributions to the Pack.
“What?”
“Your energy has changed. Your call is…dampened.”
Sylvan smiled ruefully. “Maybe now you’ll give Roger a rest.”
“There’s no need to worry about my mate. He has remarkable stamina.” Elena’s voice was soft with fondness, but her eyes were troubled as she searched Sylvan’s face. “What have you done to deplete yourself this way?”
“Don’t worry. There’s no danger.” Sylvan stroked Elena’s cheek with her fingertips. “Just worry about Misha.”
“We are here for you, Alpha. If you satisfy your needs outside the Pack, you’ll anger some important allies.”
“I don’t. Not in the way you think.” Sylvan refused to be dictated to by the traditionalists in the Were Coalition who believed Alphas should only mate with those of ancient blood. Some went so far as to insist Alphas limit their sexual encounters to highbred Pack members.
Sylvan’s line was centuries old—her blood stronger than any wolf Alpha outside the Russian Tundra Pack. Even the Russians would not dare challenge her overtly, but her congress with a Vampire could provide ammunition to those who secretly might wish to unseat her.
“What kind of Alpha would I be if I let others decide how I behave?” Elena threaded her arms around Sylvan’s waist and rested her cheek on her chest.
“Not the strong, infuriatingly stubborn Alpha we love.”
Laughing, Sylvan rubbed Elena’s back. “You’re tired. Let’s take care of Misha so you can get some rest.”
Niki appeared at the end of the hall. “We’re assembled in the gathering room, Alpha.”
“I’ll be there soon.” Sylvan kissed Elena’s forehead. “Open the door.”Elena pushed the door open as Sylvan shifted. She bounded into the room and onto the bed next to Misha. She loomed over the adolescent and licked her face. Misha’s eyes opened and she gave a small cry of surprise before wrapping her arms around Sylvan’s neck. When Misha buried her face in Sylvan’s ruff, Sylvan rumbled low in her chest and called Misha’s wolf. Misha whimpered, trembling as her injured body struggled to give her wolf ascendency. With age and practice the shift would become harmonious, natural, but Misha was still young, still finding her balance. Sylvan broadcast more power, reaching deep into Misha with the primal force that was programmed into her DNA and that every wolf Were was bound to answer. Misha’s skin shimmered, her white and gray pelt sliding over the surface. Her back arched, her bones morphed, her cry became a howl. Sylvan curled around the shivering young wolf and gently took her damp muzzle in her mouth, telling her she was safe and protected.