To her credit, the doctor didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I planned to counsel him first, let him talk to you about it when-and if-he was ever ready to share. I'll still hold sessions with him, of course, and any details are his to divulge to you. I'd never break a patient's confidence."
"I understand that, but someone should've told me the full extent of his abuse in that horrible place. Is there anything else I should know?"
"Not that I'm aware. For what it's worth, I am sorry. Both about not telling you, and the fact that it happened in the first place," she said sincerely. "Micah is very much loved by his team and all of us here at the compound. We only want the best for him, same as you."
Rowan forced her anger into a tiny box. What had befallen her brother wasn't Mac's fault. "I can see that. Thank you."
"I'll leave you two alone for a while."
The doctor left, closing the door softly.
Leaving Rowan alone with a broken wolf shifter and not a clue how to help him recover.
Aric heard the door to his room swish and he opened his eyes to see Rowan walk in, giving him a tentative smile that softened her features. It was amazing how his heart stuttered in his chest, just being in the same room with her.
"Hey," he croaked.
"Hey yourself." Taking a seat, she patted his arm. "I'll ask the stupid question-how are you feeling?"
"Better, thanks." He still couldn't believe he'd passed out in front of her, and he tried not to let his embarrassment show. But her tantalizing scent hit him hard, shot straight to his cock, and went a long way toward making him forget anything else.
"I'm glad. Did they figure out what's wrong with you?"
"I'm still waiting, but I'm sure it's exhaustion or something from my time in Motel Hell." He shrugged. "No big."
"I don't know how you can be so nonchalant about that," she said, frowning. "It's definitely a big deal for Micah."
"Damn, that's not what I meant at all." Sitting up straighter, he took her hand. "I'd never make light of what he's going through. I hope you know I'm not that much of a jerk."
She blew out a breath. "I do. It's just hard to see him hurting. He's nothing like the man I remember... not that I believe I ever really knew him."
"Who was the Micah you knew?" he asked quietly.
She thought for a moment. "Fun-loving, always laughing. He had a great sense of humor, and even though he knew the world wasn't perfect, his world was always rose-colored. His glass was always half-full."
"Yeah, that's how I saw him, too. How everyone saw him, as far as I know. Even after we were turned into shifters, he was determined to help all the guys see the good that came from the bad. He had his work cut out with me, because I hated what I'd become."
She squeezed his hand, her expression warm with concern. "Do you still hate it?"
"Not like I used to, and Micah gets a lot of the credit," he said honestly. "He'd spend hours talking to me, spinning what had happened to us into a positive thing. We were alive and more than human, and we could use that to do good, et cetera. He started getting through, too, and then..."
Her voice was almost inaudible. "Then he was gone, presumed dead."
"Yes."
She fell silent for a minute, studying their linked hands. "Would you do something for me?"
"Anything." The word was out before he thought, but he realized he meant it. Something about this woman compelled him to want to make her happy, though he didn't know why, except for the fact that she was Micah's sister and he genuinely liked her.
"Tell me what it was really like the day your SEAL team was attacked and turned," she urged, leaning forward to clasp his hand even tighter. "I need to hear the story of what happened to all of you."
Aric blinked at her. He wasn't surprised that she wanted to hear the account, since it had changed her brother's life, but she couldn't possibly have made a more difficult request of him. Hell, he didn't know anyone who'd want to relive those hellish few minutes in Afghanistan. But if he refused to tell her, she'd simply go to one of the other men.
And for some reason, that didn't sit well. Better him than having her turn to someone else.
"All right. I can do that."
"Thank you."
Taking a deep breath, he began. "It was so fucking hot that day, we thought we'd die. Little did we know that half of us would, and not from the heat or from facing the enemy we expected to find..."
Five and a half years earlier...
"Jesus Christ, I'm rank," Raven bitched, scratching at his crotch. "When I finally get to change this underwear, it'll probably walk off."
Micah grinned. "With assistance from the crabs you caught from that woman in the last village."
"Shut up, needledick. She did not give me crabs."
Aric and a few of the guys chuckled. Giving one another shit was about the only pastime out here, unless you counted paying a visit to one of the whores available in the dirt-poor villages to relieve the tension. The idea made Aric shudder. Hell, no. He'd settle for his fist indefinitely to avoid catching something he couldn't get rid of.
They tramped through the thick undergrowth, using the barrels of their weapons to push aside limbs and foliage. Sweat trickled down his spine and between his ass cheeks, and his shirt stuck to his torso. Tuning out his comrades' continuing banter, he dreamed of home. Of a meal that wasn't prepackaged and didn't taste like dog crap. Of pizza and beer.
God, he could taste the dough and cheese, washed down with a cold one-
"Hold up," Jax whispered, coming to a halt. Tensing, he studied the mountain forest around them, frowning. Somewhere hidden in the greenery, a footstep crunched to their left. Another to their right. And one from behind.
A chill slithered down Aric's spine as they exchanged glances, readied their weapons. They couldn't have reached their target's stronghold already, and this area was supposed to be clear.
Tell that to the bastards who had them surrounded.
Then the forest went silent. Those few heartbeats that followed the utter stillness, those seconds before their lives changed forever, as he locked gazes with Raven, and then Micah, would forever be crystallized in his memory.
Thud, thud, thud.
The ground trembled and the leaves shook. When a deep-throated roar split the air, Aric jumped, pointing the muzzle of his M-16 into the trees, hands steady, heart racing, a bead of sweat dripping off his nose.
"Fuck," Micah whispered. "What the fuck is that?"
It was a horror right out of Jurassic Park, the scene he'd never forget as long as he lived. The thing that broke through the foliage to their left stood erect on two legs and was more than seven feet tall. Covered with a thick mat of grayish brown fur, it had a long torso, two arms, muscular shoulders, and a head sporting two upright ears and a long, snarling muzzle full of sharp teeth.
It looked like a creature that was half man, half wolf. He stared, mouth open, finger frozen on the trigger.
How things might have been salvaged, disaster averted, they'd never know. Because their buddy Jones started screaming, pumping bullets into the beast's chest. After that, everything went to hell fast.
The creature staggered backward and then rallied quickly, rushing Jones. With a swipe of a paw the size of a dinner plate, the big bastard ripped out Jones's throat, tossing him aside like a twig. Then it pounced on Raven, biting into the vee of his neck and shoulder as the man screamed.
They opened fire just as several more of the beasts emerged from the forest. It quickly became apparent that while their bullets could wound, it would take something with far more power to kill them. Aric dropped into a crouch and desperately palmed a grenade as his friends fell all around him, waging a battle they couldn't win. The one who'd killed Jones shook Raven like a rag doll, released him, and ran toward Aric.
He let the grenade fly. It hit at the target's feet and exploded, sending the damned thing to hell. But it wasn't enough.
Micah went down, his knife in hand, slitting one's throat. But another jumped on him, and his struggle was short-lived, his screams echoing in Aric's ears. Jax fell next, then their CO, Prescott, Ryon, Zan, Nix, and so many others. All of them, one by one. Dead or dying.
Unsheathing his own knife, Aric spun to face the beast coming up on his flank. "Come on, bitch," he hissed. "Let's dance."
Today he would die. But he'd take this one with him.
Surprising the creature, he rushed in and leapt, burying the blade to the handle in its gullet. As it fell, he whirled, heart pounding with fear. Automatically, he thrust out a hand, employing one of the weapons in his personal arsenal that he had sworn never to risk using unless the situation became dire. No reason to keep it a secret now.
Pouring all his consciousness, every ounce of his energy into his gift, he unleashed his fire. A column of flame shot out from his palm and engulfed the wolf-man. Screeching, the beast dropped to the ground, writhing as it burned.
"Take that, cocksucker!"
Filled with renewed hope, he torched three more wolves. He could do this, and save at least some of his teammates. All wasn't lost.
Until his fire was depleted. Suddenly the flames died and one of the remaining beasts advanced, wearing a sinister expression that could have passed for a grin. He faced it head-on, without flinching, allowing his anger to override the fear that would mean certain death. And if there was any prayer of survival, he'd take it. Moving slowly, he palmed another grenade.
"Come on, you ugly fucker. Come to papa."
Whether it understood, he couldn't have said. But it ran at him, and he braced himself. The beast took him to the ground and his back hit hard as he pulled the grenade's pin. Not a second to lose.
The wolf brought its nose to his, mouth open, breath fetid, fangs dripping with bloody saliva. Seizing his opening, Aric rammed his fist down the beast's throat, pushing his arm as far as it would go. Immediately, the thing gagged and jerked back reflexively, clawing at his shoulder and arm to dislodge him. Pain burned his biceps and forearm as he was shoved backward, but he ignored it, scrambling as far from the beast as he could.
The grenade detonated, spraying fur, blood, and entrails everywhere. Aric lay there, ears ringing, for several long moments before he realized that all sounds had ceased. He raised his head, saw the prone figures of his team, flung everywhere. Some gasping and moaning for help, others mangled beyond recognition. He tried to crawl toward the pleas, struggled so hard to make it to even one of his fallen brothers.
But he was too fucking weak. His arm burned like it had been dipped in acid, and he peered at it to see several long, deep gashes that had been carved by the wolf-man's teeth. He was losing blood at an alarming rate, becoming light-headed.
Rest. Just for a minute. Then he'd try again.
The next thing he knew, a hand was shaking his shoulder. "Aric? Oh, God! Please don't be dead. Please!"
Cracking his eyes open was hard, but he managed. Zan was crouched over him, gripping Aric's arm-the arm that should've had several deep slices. And now it didn't. The skin was still bloodied, but smooth, as though nothing had happened.
"What the hell?" he rasped.
"Easy," Zan said. His face was pale as milk, the meat of his shoulder torn open from a nasty bite. "You're not the only one with a trick up his sleeve, my friend. I'm a Healer."
Before today, despite his own gift, Aric might've laughed. Now he just sent his friend a weak smile. "Thank fuck. So heal yourself while you're at it."
"Doesn't work that way. Stop talking and rest, okay?"
His brain was growing foggy, his body heavy. He had no choice but to obey. Maybe he would die after all, lost in this little slice of hell, along with his friends.