Page 54 of The Healer

She beamed as if he had shared a secret with her then left them to the meal. The continued silence from Dane drew his attention.

“Are you serious?” Dane met his gaze, the alpha in him challenging Rhys’s bear. “Are you pursuing her because of your fetish?”

“Blood doesn’t lie.” Rhys pushed away his empty plate.

Dane pursed his lips. “That’s more a vamp thing than shifter.”

“Like you won’t lose your mind and crave the taste of her blood during the mating ritual? Listen, Dane, I need to mate, and if I can have a woman with Callie’s blood running through her veins, then I’m the luckiest S.O.B. Besides, when I met Lona and found her intriguing, I didn’t know she was a Devereaux.” He held out his hand when his friend made to speak. “I’m not sure I loved Callie, or whether I’m disappointed in a missed opportunity. The way my body and bear react around Ilona tells me it’s the latter. Now quit making this harder for me. My intentions are honorable, and if she denies this attraction, then the decision is hers to make.”

“You’ll take her away, Rhys. We need her.”

Rhys frowned. Dane made a valid point. “She’s here only until Amos returns. How long could that be? Dane, I’ve got to try. You know the pressure the packs place on their alphas to mate. I’d like the chance to find mine before someone chooses one for me.”

He sighed. “Fair enough.”

Rhys left his friend to the waffles Harriet brought out. He needed time alone to understand where Callie rested in his heart. Missing the chance to claim her had pissed him off, but it could be her lineage calling to him. Like when a shifter met the twin sister of his mate. She smelled good but not as mind-bendingly delicious as his mate.

What he admired most about Callie was the strength and power in her veins. Perhaps that wasn’t what he wanted, what his pack needed. He paused on the wooden porch to tie his shoelaces and shrug on his jacket. White snow blanketed the world except for the gravel-covered road.

If he told Ilona about the vamp’s formula and his pack’s involvement, she might volunteer to come home with him. This all rested on the coffee date. If she didn’t show, he would know he didn’t stand a chance with her. Yes, he had acted high-handed, but her kiss pressed to his bear’s forehead had spiked his hope.

The sky was a crisp blue and perfect for a stroll. Since he had the time, he strode to Mo’s, enjoying the freedom to do so. There were no pack obligations, no meetings with Jo-jo that always ended with them screaming at each other.

He entered the diner and chose the same booth from last night. Peering outside, he watched people go about their business.

“Coffee? Apple pie?” Mo smiled a welcome.

“Just coffee, thanks, and you might as well add last night’s bill to mine.”

“Will do, honey. Waiting for someone?” She gestured to the vacant seat opposite him.

“Yes, for Ilona.”

Her face fell as she shook her head.

Rhys’s hackles rose, and he straightened.

“She’s not well. Jake texted me to get a pot of my chicken soup on the boil.”

“Not well?” Rhys growled the question, struggling to form the words. “But she looked well yesterday.” He grimaced. That sounded lame. “Where does she live? I can sniff her out, but finding her that way would take too long.”

Mo flipped open a tourist map and tapped a spot.

Rhys studied it then bolted, using some of his bear’s speed to reach Harriet’s. He needed his SUV and its GPS. Folks dove out of his way when he sprinted past yelling apologies. Ten minutes later, he slid to a halt outside her home. He raced up the snowed-in walkway and onto the porch to bang on the pale blue door. Each second without a footstep reaching his sensitive hearing ramped the tension between his shoulders. When he knocked again with no response, he tried the handle.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, but the house remained silent. Sunlight streamed in through unshuttered windows, but no other lights were on. He shut the door and raised his nose for a sniff. Trailing her scent along the passage, he headed for her room that he assumed sat at the back of the house.

Pushing the door open, he studied the huddled lump in the bed. The acrid stench of sickness filled the room. He shot forward to sit on the bed’s edge and peel back her blankets. Sweat drenched her hair, her skin clammy, and she moaned at the cool air touching her shoulders.

“Ilona.” He hoped to rouse her. The heat pouring off her was too intense for a human.

She must have dosed herself last night with the bottles of medication on her nightstand. He doubted they had impacted the cold making her nose glow like a traffic cone.

“Rhys?” Her eyes cracked open, and at the sight of him, she groaned, rolled away from him, and slapped her pillow over her head. “Go away.”

“What can I get you? What do you need? Are there other doctors in town? At the hospital?” He tugged the pillow out of her hands and her toward him.

“Don’t be silly,” she said through her clogged nose. “It’s just a cold.”

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