“Lord, Mitchell! What are you—”

Then she smelled it. The predator in her could smell it—and hungered for it.

Blood.

Mitch’s blood.

“Mitchell?”

She gripped his shoulders, and immediately, she felt blood drenching her right hand. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled his waist and looked down into his face.

“Mitchell?”

He opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Get out, Sissy,” he managed. “Get out now.”

“You don’t get rid of me that easy, darlin’.” She examined the length of his body and immediately spotted his cell phone. He used it for personal calls, but it was set up for their business, too.

She used the walkie-talkie part of it.

“This is Sissy. Answer back.”

Her brother was a brilliantly distrustful man, and he’d arranged for security from the time guests began to arrive on Long Island until everyone had left. She’d never been so grateful.

“This is Té, Sissy. What up, girl?”

“Té, I need you to get Mace and Brendon to Mitch’s room now. He’s down, bleeding from his neck and shoulder.”

Her voice no longer relaxed, the six-foot, six-inch She-bear answered back, “Hold.”

Sissy pulled the sheet off the bed and shredded it with her claw. She took several strips and pressed them against his neck and shoulder. She was more worried about the neck.

“Mitch darlin’, I need you to stay with me.” She made her voice commanding, although she felt like a panicked mess. “You just keep those freakish cat eyes on me.”

He did, but she knew it was a challenge for him. He wanted to sleep.

Té came back on the line. “Sissy, you there?”

“I’m here. Go.”

“We’re moving.” That’s all she said, and that’s all Sissy needed to hear.

“No hospital,” Mitch told her, his gold eyes staring at her. And she knew he was right. She couldn’t take him to a hospital. Not a regular hospital anyway where their ability to protect him would be seriously limited.

Into the phone, she said, “No ambulance, Té. No cops.”

“Got it.”

“I need to go home, Sissy. I’ll be safe at home.” She somehow doubted that, but she wouldn’t argue the point with him.

“I’ll take care of everything, Mitch. Don’t you worry about a thing, darlin’.”

“You need to go.”

“You know She-wolves only do what we want. We’re difficult that way. So you just think about holding on for me, darlin’, and let me worry about the rest.”

She didn’t know how long it took, maybe two minutes, but it felt like thirty hours until that hotel door was kicked open and Mace walked in. Dez was behind him wearing only a long T-shirt that had “I love my Rotties”emblazoned across the front. Sissy almost laughed, which seemed really inappropriate at the moment. Typically, Dez was well armed with a .45, and she slowly moved to the window, keeping close to the wall and out of the direct line of fire.

Mace crouched down by her and Mitch.

“No ambulance,” Mitch said again.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Mace told him. “We’ve got it under control.”

But the strips of sheet she’d balled up and pressed against his wounds were already saturated in blood, and blood covered Sissy’s hands, up her forearms, damn near to her elbows.

Dez walked back over. She glanced down at Mitch before heading to the door. “I’m checking outside.”

“Dez—” But Mace didn’t get to finish since she was already gone.

Suddenly, Brendon and Marissa were there, but without Ronnie, which struck Sissy as really odd. Mace moved so Brendon could get close. Marissa didn’t say anything, simply braced her back against the wall, wrapped her arms around her stomach, and stared. Sissy could see the terror in her eyes, in her pale face. She was terrified for her baby brother. And she’d probably never admit it.

The brothers locked eyes, and Sissy felt the connection that went through them. She had it with Bobby Ray. That connection that went beyond simple blood ties and to something so much deeper.

Brendon took Mitch’s hand in his own and held on tight. “We need to get him out of here.”

“No ambulance,” Mitch repeated. “No police.”

“We can’t leave him here,” Brendon said calmly. “Do we know a local doc?”

“I don’t,” Mace said. “But I’m sure—”

Ronnie ran in, and behind her were Mitch’s mother and Gwen.

Roxy motioned Brendon away and crouched next to Mitch. She pulled the pieces of sheet away and examined his wounds. “I need water. Gwen, go to the car and get the kit.”

Gwen moved without question, and Ronnie swept up the ice bucket before heading into the bathroom to get the water.

Roxy grabbed clean strips of the ripped up sheet and pressed it against Mitch’s wounds. She called Sissy over with a tilt of her head. “Hold these against his wounds until I tell you to stop.”

Sissy nodded and did as she was ordered.

No more than two more minutes passed before Gwen came back into the room with a metal box, “First Aid” written in red on the top. She popped the clasps and pulled out a huge roll of gauze. Ripping off strips, she handed them to her mother.

By then, Roxy had her water. She pushed Sissy’s hands away and carefully wiped off the blood. More seemed to pour out, but her expression never changed. She looked intensely interested but nothing more. She didn’t show any signs of panic or fear or rage. She simply cleaned her son’s wounds and examined the area.