“And please, call me Mac. Everyone else does.”
“Okay . . . Mac.” Kira paused, curious. “Please, if this is none of my business just say so, but . . . are you a shifter, too?”
The doc shook her head. “No, I’m fully human. I was brought in by my father to help launch the Alpha Project more than five years ago, after the SEAL team was attacked in Afghanistan and turned. He was the team’s CO and recommended me to come in and counsel them, and that led to what I’m doing now. When the compound was completed, I just stayed on and never left.”
“Sounds like a dream job, studying real-life paranormal stuff and getting paid.”
“It is, but it can be frightening, too. There’s so much out there that we believed to be fairy tales, and—Well, enough of that for the moment,” she said, a bit too brightly. “You must be starved.”
So much out there. Like what, besides wolf shifters? Her skin prickled. “I could eat. I need a shower first, though.”
“Take your time. Breakfast is served at seven, but there will be plenty of food if you’re later than that. You don’t have to worry about a schedule, at least not until we figure out what you’ll be doing, so it’s all good.”
All good. Right. Kira almost laughed at the absurdity.
“I—Thanks.”
“See you soon. And try not to worry, okay? You’re safe here.”
“That’s what Jaxon said.”
Mac cocked her head. “Well, he’s right. None of our guys will let anything happen to you. You can trust any of them with your life.”
“I got the demonstration on that one in living color. Maybe I can return the favor someday.”
The other woman winked and headed for the door. “Good luck with that. They’re as übermacho as men come.”
After Mac left, Kira availed herself of the shower, relishing the hot water on sore muscles that were making themselves known. Her back was especially tender, she supposed from the goon slamming her against the car last night.
Well, he’d paid for it. Both had. Remembering the huge wolf ripping out their throats, she shivered despite the steamy spray.
Out of the shower, she found a fluffy towel in the cabinet and dried off. Frowning, she realized she had no way to comb or dry her hair and cursed herself for not thinking of it when Mac was here. The friendly woman probably would’ve loaned her a brush, dryer, and even a little makeup if she’d thought to ask. Not that she normally wore much, but she wasn’t thrilled about going to sit and eat among a roomful of hotties, sporting wet hair and looking like an extra from Dawn of the Dead .
“Fantastic.”
After using the towel to dry her hair the best she could, she finger-combed to remove most of the tangles and then gave up. Next came the jeans, which were too big in the waist and about four inches too long. To keep from stepping on them, she rolled them up, making cuffs. Then came the red T-shirt, which was also too big, but at least helped hide the fact that she was about to lose the jeans.
Looking at herself in the dresser mirror, she slumped in dejection. For today, it would have to do. Mac wasn’t a big woman at all; Kira was just small. Always had been, which was why she’d never been able to swap clothes with her girlfriends in high school.
“I look like a refugee.” Which was pretty accurate.
After slipping on a clean pair of socks and her own tennis shoes, she grabbed her purse and made certain the containers were still inside. Reassured, she slung the straps over her shoulder and headed out. Once in the corridor, she also realized she hadn’t asked for directions to the dining room. Hadn’t Jax taken her through it last night? She’d been so wiped, she’d hardly noticed, and had no clue where it was located.
She did remember that Mac’s place was next to hers. She knocked and waited. No answer. Biting her lip, she stared across the hall to the door Jax had said belonged to him. Might as well give it a try.
But he wasn’t there,
editor Elizabeth Benedict