was a shifter. He guessed the limo had struck her, but she was still alive when he’d found her. She should have healed with minimum help, even with internal injuries.
“Sir!” Dr. Jenkins, a few nurses, and Damon came into the room.
A growl escaped his lips as he slowly pivoted toward the doctor. “What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she healing?” He took a menacing step forward. “What did you do?”
Damon immediately put himself between him and the staff. “Krieger, stand down.”
“Look at her! She’s—”
“Stop!” The Demon was there now, waiting at the edges of Damon’s consciousness. “And listen to what he tried to tell you.”
Dr. Jenkins cleared his throat. “As I was trying to say, Ms. Forrester’s shifter healing isn’t kicking in as fast as we’d hoped.”
“Why?” Krieger growled.
“There may be several reasons, but I won’t know for sure until she wakes up. I was surprised myself when they brought her in. I thought she was a human and performed the necessary surgery on her.”
“Will she be okay?” Damon asked.
“She’s still under observation,” Dr. Jenkins said. “But I think she will recover. Slowly. Like any human patient.”
Krieger turned back to his mate. The rise and fall of her chest reassured him somewhat, but that didn’t answer any questions.
“Is this the—Oh my God!”
An older redheaded woman had strolled in carefully, but when her gaze landed on Dutchy, she let out a sharp cry and rushed to her side. “Dutchy … my darling girl.” Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to Dutchy’s pale forehead and clutched her limp hand. “Thank you for calling me, Damon. Angela’s on her way here, too, she’s just closing up her shop.”
“Of course, Rosie,” Damon said somberly.
“You said she’d been in an accident?” She turned to Dr. Jenkins. “How is she? What happened?”
So, this was Rosie. Dutchy’s aunt. He could see some resemblance, especially with the hair and the eyes. She was wearing one of those vintage-style dresses and from the name plate still pinned to her chest, it was obvious she had rushed here from work.
“… and now we can only wait,” Dr. Jenkins concluded.
“She’ll pull through. My girl is strong.” Curious pale blue eyes flickered to Krieger. “And you are?”
Krieger swallowed, unable to speak. Those blue eyes … they looked so much like Dutchy’s that his stomach hurt.
“This is Krieger,” Damon began as he walked up to Rosie and placed a hand on her shoulder. “He and Anders found Dutchy after she’d been hit by that car. That’s another long story Anders can tell you about, but … turns out Krieger is Dutchy’s mate.” Damon had obviously been careful in selecting his words so they didn’t come out as a lie.
Rosie gasped, and she covered her mouth. “Oh.” Circling around the bed, she came up to him and embraced him. “Thank goodness. You came to her at the right time.”
He stood in the old woman’s embrace awkwardly, unsure of what to do. When she let go, she raised a brow at him. “You’ve never been to my pie shop, have you?”
“N-no, ma’am.”
A weak smile formed on her face. “We’ll have to remedy that, won’t we? When she wakes up.”
Not if. When. “Yes.”
Dr. Jenkins cleared his throat. “We should leave her to rest.”
Neither Krieger nor his bear liked that idea, so he grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it next to Dutchy’s bed. “I’ll stay here.”
Dr. Jenkins frowned. “There’s no need for that. We have nurses here who’ll watch over her. You can’t do anything more for her than they can.”
Ignoring the doctor, he sat down, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“Sir, I insist—”
“I said, I’ll stay here.”
“Dr. Jenkins,” Rosie said in a soothing voice. “It’s all right. Maybe … maybe it will be good for her. He’s her mate, after all.”
Dr. Jenkins harrumphed. “Fine. In any case, I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork for her.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
Krieger stopped paying them any mind, not even when they said goodbye or when Damon came up to him and told him to take all the time he needed. No, his gaze was fixed on his mate, as if doing so would magically heal her and she would open those beautiful eyes.
What happened to you, Dutchy?
Chapter Six
Dutchy drifted in and out of the darkness, like flotsam pulled up and down by stormy ocean waves.
“… why isn’t she healing faster …”
Beep … beep … beep
“… my poor girl …”
Drip … drip … drip
“… haven’t left her side … go take a break …”
Each time she reached for the