Raider frowned. “You’re losing too much blood, dumb ass.” He reached for one of Wolfe’s shoulders just as Malcolm crossed the room and grabbed the other. The two men hauled him up, giving him no choice. They pushed him around the receptionist desk.

“Hello?” Malcolm called. “We have a wolf here that needs stitches.” They disappeared down the long hallway.

Dana stared at the blood on her hand and gagged. The room spun, so she closed her eyes, leaning back the way Wolfe had. She stayed in that position for at least thirty minutes, until she couldn’t stand the blood on her hand any longer.

Glancing down, she saw that the liquid had started to dry, cracking on her skin. Sucking in air, she stood and hurried to the restroom to wash off her hand. She waited at the sink, trying to control her stomach. This night was too much. She started shaking and couldn’t stop, her teeth chattering. Tears flowed down her dirty cheeks, and she coughed.

“Dana?” Wolfe called through the door.

“Wolfe,” she said, trying to regain control between the two sinks.

He opened the door and walked in, his boots clomping on the small square tiles. His bare chest was mottled with bruises, and fresh bandages now covered his forearms and hand. “Whoa.” He reached for her.

She swatted him away. “Don’t. You just got stitches.” Her shaking increased in force.

Wolfe partially turned his head. “I need a blanket,” he bellowed. Then he lowered his chin and reached for her again, this time ignoring her slaps and plucking her off her feet. “You’re going into shock.”

She snuggled her face into his neck, breathing in his masculine scent. “I am not.”

The door opened. “What’s happening?” Malcolm asked, handing over what looked like a horse blanket.

“Need a minute,” Wolfe said.

“Sure.” Malcolm disappeared.

Wolfe swung around and strode toward the tile wall by the door, away from the stalls and sinks. He slid down to the floor, cradling her against his heated bare skin and covering her with the blanket that was rough but smelled fresh. “I want you to take deep breaths. In and out. Where are you?”

“In the bathroom,” she said, taking in a deep breath.

“Where else are you?” Amusement tinged his voice this time.

Oh. “With you. Next to you.” Surrounded by him, actually. “You’re here and you’re safe.” She let his warmth seep through her skin and stop the shaking.

“That’s right. I’ve got you. Understand?” He kissed her forehead, and he was solid and strong and powerful, even wounded.