9. Brandon

9

brANDON

He watched the storm clouds grow dark and wished Riley hadn't needed to leave.

We could have spent the day in front of the fireplace, finding ways to stay warm.

It's a bad day for our mate to be out.

I can't tell him that he's not allowed to go.

Humans, his moose huffed in annoyance and withdrew.

Brandon gathered towels for laundry and stripped the bed, pleased that he could still catch Riley's scent on the sheets. He pondered what to make for dinner and wondered if the hotel would cancel Riley's gig that night. From the way the snow was coming down, odds were high that everything would close early—and some roads would close altogether.

The Adirondacks knew how to handle heavy snow. Brandon had heard the distant rumble of the big trucks that would plow and salt the main roads. People who lived in Fox Hollow year-round got by with snowplows, snowblowers, snow shoes, skis, all-wheel drive, and sheer stubbornness.

Will the storm scare Riley off? This weather isn't for everyone, and he doesn't have a shifter side to compensate. Jamestown doesn't get this much snow. It definitely is an acquired taste unless your animal side is born to it.

It hadn't been long since he and Riley had gotten together, but Brandon knew he was already in love. Part of that was the fated mates from his shifter side, but human Brandon had fallen head over heels as well.

They would have to have "the talk" soon, before things went any further. That wasn't an issue with a shifter partner because they could sense the other's dual nature.

He wondered if Riley suspected. Since Riley knew Madden and Madden had a penchant for gossip—nothing malicious, but he was the go-to person for local news—Brandon thought Riley might be waiting for the right time to bring it up.

By the way, are you a moose? They don't cover that kind of thing in dating tips articles.

Brandon sighed. He wondered if the feeling of belonging was as strong for a human as it was for a shifter. To Brandon, that certainty of finding his true mate eased the awkwardness of getting to know each other, knowing that they were meant to be together and that everything would work out.

He knew from his mated and married friends that fated mates still had to work on their relationship, but the mate bond went a long way toward avoiding many of the irritations that arose in non-shifter partnerships.

As his other friends found their mates, Brandon had wondered when it would be his turn. He wasn't exactly lonely surrounded by a close group of friends and deep in the active Fox Hollow community, but he longed for someone of his own. When he caught Riley's scent and realized this could be his mate, Brandon realized just how much he wanted to find the right person.

Riley seemed to be completely on board with the idea. There was a lot they hadn't talked about yet, moose notwithstanding, but despite the quick intensity of their bond, they still hadn't been together long. He's getting used to a new town, new job, and new classes at the Institute. There hasn't been a lot of time for heart-to-hearts just yet. If we're true mates, that will happen.

Bite him and fuck him. That goes a long way toward "communicating," his moose pointed out. You might be able to read more from him through a mate bond than usual with his whole freaky nil thing.

Being a nil isn't "freaky." It's part of who he is, and a legitimate psychic gift, Brandon defended. And it's nice that I'm not bombarded with thoughts for once. I don't have to shield. I can just be me, and he doesn't have to worry that I'm rustling through his mental "drawers."

Whatever you say, his moose snarked.

A weather alert blared on Brandon's phone, and he glanced at the screen. Six-to-eight-inch accumulation over the next hour, with more likely. Dangerous wind chill. Roads closed to all but emergency traffic. Businesses closing. Shelter livestock; bring pets inside. Stay off the roads.

The "snowmageddon" everyone had been predicting was late, but it finally showed up and demanded attention. Brandon had already split extra wood for the fire, stocked up on food, and made sure there was gas for the generator.

Now if only Riley had decided to stay. He's not going to be playing tonight since everything is closing. It would have been more fun to be snowed in together.

Between one breath and the next, blinding pain hit Brandon hard enough to drive him to his knees. His head pounded, his heart raced with terror, and he heard Riley scream his name.

"What the fuck was that?" Brandon sat on the floor of the kitchen holding his head.

Our mate is in danger! his moose roared.

Brandon shook his head to clear it. He might not be able to read Riley in the same way as his regular telepathy, but their mate bond made some level of connection possible—and right now, Riley was scared, hurt, and in danger.

He was going to pick up new strings and go back to the motel, maybe catch a nap before his gig tonight—which is going to be canceled, given the storm.

Did he wreck in the snow?

Brandon called Riley's phone and listened as it rang until the call went to voicemail. He tried again, without result.

He began to pace in the kitchen. His telepathy usually didn't work over long distances, even with someone who was an easy read. Given the intensity of the emotions he picked up from Riley, Brandon knew it had to be the mate bond connecting them, which was why he read feelings and not words. But even without language, the terror and danger were viscerally clear.

His moose and his Aries nature were in complete agreement on a fierce protective streak.

I've got to find him.

Our mate needs us, his moose demanded.

He jumped when his phone rang. A glance at the screen told him it wasn't Riley, and it took a moment to register it was from Madden.

"Brandon! Code Red! I think Riley's been kidnapped!" Madden's voice had gone up a few notes in excitement, and he spoke so fast Brandon had to listen closely to catch all the words.

"Slow down and say that again. Kidnapped?"

"I saw it. Some guy pushed him into a truck and took off. I already called the sheriff, and I'm heading to the fire department to rally our friends."

Brandon shook his head, trying to make sense of Madden's garbled account. "Okay, I'm still not following. Why would anyone kidnap Riley?"

"His ex. From Jamestown. He's some sort of stalker. Steve at the motel told me that Riley put security cameras up, and Steve was trying to figure out whether to let him keep them. Riley filed a restraining order with the sheriff when he moved here."

"Does everyone in town tell you what's going on?'

"Yes. Of course they do."

Riley has a stalker ex. He never told me that part. Then again, maybe he thought I'd think less of him for some reason. They're history. It wouldn't have mattered to me anyway—we'll make a fresh start of our own.

Pay attention! Someone has taken our mate! In his mind, his inner moose pawed at the dirt and shook his antlers in challenge, ready to fight.

Brandon looked out the window. Heavy, wet snow fell so thick Brandon could barely see. The wind had picked up, driving the loose snow into drifts.

"They aren't going to get far in this weather," Brandon said. "And we've got wolves and a beagle shifter who can track scent." Except that if Riley was in a truck, he wouldn't leave a scent. And he could be anywhere.

Riley came here from Jamestown. It makes sense that's where his stalker would take him.

"Madden—how long ago did this happen?"

"About fifteen minutes since I called the sheriff first. I was going to call Russ and Drew and the others next." Two wolves, a bobcat, a lynx, a fox, and a squirrel were an unlikely rescue squad, but Brandon would bet on them any day.

Brandon took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts and make a plan. "What kind of truck?"

"A blue pickup."

A pickup wouldn't get anywhere fast in this snow, Brandon thought.

Riley's out in that storm with a madman. Anyone crazy enough to kidnap their ex might do worse.

The kidnapper is probably going to try to go back to Jamestown. He won't make it in this weather.

The back roads will be impassible. He'll have to stick to the highway—and it's not likely to be open for long.

Good thing I'm an all-terrain moose.

"I'm going after him," Brandon told Madden. "I think they'll stick to the main highway, heading toward Jamestown. Tell the sheriff I'm going to wear my tracker—and break out the snowmobiles to follow me."

"I'm on it. Good luck."

Brandon forced his fear down and focused on what he could do to protect Riley. He didn't fault his boyfriend for not telling him about a crazy ex. They had only just become a couple, and Riley probably wanted to leave the ugly past behind him. Brandon hadn't shared all his secrets, either.

He had assisted with winter search and rescues before and kept his gear in a closet, ready to go. Brandon decided to take the bag with his equipment in the SUV and wear the tracker so the sheriff could find him…hopefully once he had found Riley.

As for the stalker ex, moose-Brandon was thirteen hundred pounds of muscle. He knew how to take care of himself.

Brandon channeled his worry for Riley into action and forced himself to think strategically. Even in deep snow, his moose could move at a top speed of about forty miles per hour—faster than four-wheel drives were likely to go in this storm. His gear bag had survival equipment and first aid materials, energy bars, and sports drinks, but carrying it would slow Brandon down, and in the biting cold, that could cost time Riley didn't have. He would need to leave the bag in his SUV and hope that he could find Riley and lead the others to him.

Too many "ifs," he fretted.

Brandon loaded his gear into the Suburban as well as the tracker harness that the sheriff had specially made for him. He dressed for the weather with his warmest coat, boots, hat, and gloves, but Brandon knew he wouldn't get far in the vehicle given the storm.

He'd go as far as he could in the SUV, then shift and do the rest in his fur and hope he could get to Riley before something terrible happened.

Snow crunched under his wheels, and Brandon could feel the drag on his tires as he made his way down unplowed roads. It was coming down faster than the road crew could clear it, something that didn't happen often in Fox Hollow but wasn't unheard of for a storm of the year.

Everyone else had apparently gotten the message to stay home because the roads were empty. Snow rapidly blurred old tracks. Even with the four-wheel drive engaged, Brandon could feel the tires strain for grip in slick spots.

Riley's ex had taken him in a pickup. Trying to drive a truck without a load in the back for traction was suicidal. All the weight was in the engine, not over the back wheels, making it difficult if not impossible to control.

Maybe they'll get stuck. I can catch up to them if they're stranded.

Does his ex have a gun? Probably. I'll have to take my chances that the asshole isn't a moose hunter.

Brandon knew he wasn't bulletproof as a moose. A high-caliber rifle or handgun would be enough to kill him, along with any automatic weapon. A smaller gun might get in a lucky shot. Then again, if the bullet didn't hit anything vital, it could be like trying to stop a moving train.

He wasn't surprised to find the turn to the main state route blocked with safety barriers. Brandon pulled off to the side of the road and started to strip off clothing and boots. Shifting would be damned uncomfortable, but saving Riley was worth it.

Although he'll be annoyed if I freeze my dangly bits—and so will I.

The specially-made tracker harness was designed so he could get into it once he had shifted since nothing would fit when he made the change. The antlers added an extra challenge, but with practice, he'd learned how to duck into it and cinch the straps with his teeth.

Bracing himself for the chill, Brandon got out of the SUV and hung the harness from the outside mirror. Even using the vehicle as a windbreak, Brandon shivered violently as he waited for the shift to take hold.

Once he was in moose form, warmth wasn't a problem. He nudged the door shut, very carefully angled his antlers, and eased his head through the tracker's strap, then bit the end and pulled it tight. Locking the SUV wasn't a possibility with hooves, but no one was going to be around to steal it today.

Brandon stepped away from the vehicle and shook his antlers, then lifted his head and scented the wind. His eyesight as a moose was poor, but hearing and smell went a long way to make up for the lack.

No tire tracks were visible, not surprising considering the wind and fast accumulation. That also meant no noises or smells to confuse his senses.

What if he didn't go this way? his moose fretted.

His ex wasn't from around here. He doesn't know back ways, and with the storm, he'd be likely to stick to the big road.

If you're wrong, how can we find him? It might be too late.

Brandon shut down that train of thought. He couldn't afford to believe that Riley was beyond saving. Madden is going to get the rescue crew. They might be able to get a license plate from the traffic cams leaving the plaza. Not that I think they got very far.

The best he could hope for would be to find the truck stuck in the snow. He refused to let himself imagine worse scenarios.

Brandon started at a brisk walk, and once he had a feel for the road, he worked up to a full run. He couldn't keep top speed for long, but he could maintain a slightly slower speed for quite a while.

Please be safe. Please don't die. Please hang on.

I'm coming for you. I love you. I need my mate.

Please wait for me.

The first couple of miles passed without spotting tracks or a stalled car. No vehicles were on the road, giving it an apocalyptic feel. Brandon tried to quell his fear and push down panic, but doubts began to surface despite his efforts.

What if I guessed wrong about the route? What if they went a different way? Maybe they got out of Fox Hollow and holed up at a hotel. All the towns are going to be focused on clearing roads, helping stranded motorists, and dealing with emergencies. A manhunt is going to be a low priority.

Once Madden gets the rescue effort going, they'll check area hotels and put out a BOLO so any emergency responders who are out will be alert. We'll find him. We have to.

Still, Brandon's gut told him this was the most likely route. Between the wind and the heavy snow, the road looked untouched.

Then he spotted the mangled guide rail. It's on the other side. They weren't going that direction. That would be back toward Fox Hollow.

But what if they lost control?

Brandon could see how it could happen. The ex-boyfriend, driving too fast to put Fox Hollow behind them and unfamiliar with how to drive in a true blizzard. All it would take would be hitting ice to send a pickup skidding.

He veered and charged across the deserted lanes for a closer look. The guide rail had been torn loose, and once he reached the edge of the roadway, Brandon could see that a vehicle had gone down over the side until it hit a tree.

He listened for movement and heard only the wind. His keen nose smelled gasoline—and blood. Brandon picked his way down the slope unimpeded by the snow. His heart sank when he saw a blue pickup crumpled against the thick trunk of a tall oak.

Brandon edged closer. He caught a whiff of his mate's scent, but not as strong as he expected. The blood smell grew more prominent as he got closer, as well as the smell of an unfamiliar human.

Then he saw the rest of the damage to the truck. All the side windows were broken out, the front end was badly smashed, and the driver had been thrown through the windshield. That's when Brandon spotted the corpse on the hood, buried beneath new-fallen snow.

Frightened to see but needing to know, Brandon moved up to the front of the wreck and poked the body with his antlers. It didn't move, and he could tell from its odor that the stranger was dead.

Where's Riley?

Brandon saw the broken rear windows and spotted smears of blood on some of the shards, but he couldn't see Riley in or near the truck. Making a careful circle, he saw a depression in the snow that might have been tracks nearly filled in by new accumulation.

Trying not to panic, Brandon followed the shallow trough up the embankment. It cut upward at a slant, instead of going directly to the top.

Logical if Riley was hurt or had trouble climbing. Please let him be okay.

Brandon reached the top of the slope a few yards from where he had descended. He stood on the empty road and looked around, desperate to catch sight of Riley.

I don't know which way he went. Toward Jamestown—or back toward Fox Hollow? Did he even know where he was since the truck got turned around?

A bright flash caught his eye. A large snow pile sat in the median where plows had pushed their loads. The broken rearview mirror dangled in the wind from a two-by-four, reflecting the sun.

Brandon bellowed as loudly as he could to tell his mate he was on the way and began running at full speed. He crashed through the snow effortlessly, long legs eating up the distance.

Just as he got close, Riley spotted him, waving and shouting.

"Brandon! Over here!"

I guess he figured out the moose part, Brandon's other side said. Go save our mate.

Riley's scent was much stronger now, mingled with blood. Brandon slowed and approached the snow cave cautiously, not wanting to make it collapse. He knelt in front of the opening and pushed his nose inside.

"Brandon?" Riley reached toward him and stroked his face. His hand shook, and his whole body shivered violently.

"Thank you for coming for me." Riley sounded drugged or sleepy. "I love you. I wanted to be your mate. I'm sorry we won't get time."

Brandon raised his head and let out a mournful bellow. I don't dare shift, or we'll both die from exposure. But maybe I can make it better until help arrives.

His tracker would alert the emergency team to where he was, and when he stopped moving, they would know he had found Riley. He just needed to keep Riley alive until the rescuers caught up.

Very carefully, Brandon shifted his huge bulk until his body blocked the entrance to the snow cave. That meant putting his back to Riley when he desperately wanted to see his mate, but he knew it would keep him warmer.

"I'm glad you're here," Riley whispered. "I didn't want to die alone."

Riley's words broke Brandon's heart, and his moose huffed a response.

Riley settled in behind Brandon, lying close, and slipped an arm around as much of the huge animal as he could reach.

"Mate." Riley sighed, and then fell quiet.

Brandon snuffled, but Riley didn't answer.

He couldn't hear Riley's thoughts, but the emotions he sensed ranged from fear to acceptance, and from Riley's scent, Brandon could tell his mate was fading.

He's dying, Brandon's moose said, sounding as heartbroken as human Brandon felt. Save him.

He's too weak to ride us. We can't carry him out. The tracker will bring help. Brandon's feelings careened between terror and grief, afraid that he had still arrived too late.

A distant hum made Brandon's ears prick up. Snowmobiles. They're coming.

Top speed for a moose could hit forty miles per hour, but a snowmobile could do over one hundred. They could get Riley to the hospital faster and more safely, and Brandon would catch up to them.

Two snowmobiles roared up and stopped a few feet from where Brandon lay. He maneuvered carefully to avoid squashing Riley, getting out of the way.

"Great job, Brandon," Russ said as he and Noah got off one of the snowmobiles. "You found him."

"We'll get him to the hospital," Drew added as he dismounted from the second snowmobile, which had a rescue sled.

Riley didn't rouse when Russ and Drew tried to wake him, so they eased him from the snow cave and carried him to the sled. Noah grabbed the blanket and extra coat to tuck around Riley to keep him as warm as possible on the way back to town.

"We'll take good care of him." Noah met Brandon's gaze. "I promise."

Brandon got back to his feet and watched as they roared away. His body didn't mind the cold, but his heart felt frozen solid.

We could lose our mate. His inner moose sounded sorrowful.

We're going to do everything we can to save him. Even as Brandon promised, he didn't know what more he could do to make that vow come true.

The trek back to his SUV seemed to take forever, even though Brandon kept the fastest, steady pace he could sustain. His moose side stayed unusually quiet, brooding. Brandon's long legs ate up the snowy road, getting him back to where he had parked in record time.

Snow covered the Suburban, several inches deep just in the time he had been gone. He dreaded shifting because the wind had picked up but endured the bitter cold and threw himself into the vehicle as soon as he could get the door open.

"Cold, cold, so fuckin' cold." He scrambled to pull on his clothes and coat, wondering if his skin would freeze to the upholstery.

Brandon started the SUV and blasted the heat, fairly certain it wouldn't warm up before he got to his destination. He shut off the radio, in no mood for distractions. All he cared about was getting to the hospital to be with Riley, and that meant being cautious so he didn't end up in a wreck of his own.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he got back to town and saw that the plows had cleared at least some of the snow from the main road, although with the way it was still coming down, that wouldn't last long.

Brandon parked at the Emergency Room, grabbed his backpack, and ran inside.

"Where's Riley?" he asked Tricia, one of the nurses he recognized behind the desk. "The car wreck case the sheriff just brought in."

"Hi, Brandon. They said you'd be along. He's in with the doctor right now. I'll let you know when you can see him. Go ahead and get comfortable in the waiting room. There's coffee."

Brandon thanked her and took a chair. Restless, he got up and made coffee from the single-serve machine, then tried to settle into his seat. While his moose had been fine in the cold, he still wasn't over the chill from shifting, and only now did he feel the fatigue.

He dug a protein bar out of his backpack and gobbled it, washing it down with a sports drink and then the coffee. Still hungry, he ate two more before realizing that the empty pit in his stomach was probably more from worry than hunger at this point.

"Brandon."

He looked up and saw Russ coming toward him, wearing his EMT uniform.

"How is he?" Brandon blurted. He knew Riley had been in rough shape, but he couldn't bring himself to question aloud whether or not he was still alive.

Russ came and sat next to him. "The doctor's with him now. Hypothermia and exposure, a concussion, and some bad bruises and cuts."

"There was a wreck," Brandon told him. "The kidnapper's truck must have spun out, got turned the other way, crossed the median and the opposite lanes, and went down the embankment. The driver got thrown out of the windshield—he was dead. I can lead you to the scene if you need me to."

"Later," Russ said. "I don't think anyone is going to bother it until the storm is over, and even the scavengers will steer clear until the storm ends."

Brandon shivered, remembering his fear until he confirmed that the body wasn't Riley.

"Madden was going to spearhead finding out who the guy was. Any luck?"

Russ shook his head. "We went out right after you did. I imagine the sheriff will want to talk to you. And if he won't tell you anything, Madden will," he added with a smirk.

Drew and Noah joined them, adding words of encouragement before they had to head out to deal with other emergencies. That left Brandon alone in the waiting room.

He glanced at his phone and saw he had a message from Madden. He returned the call, and Madden picked up on the first ring.

"Brandon! Did you find him? Is he okay?"

"I found him. Whether or not he's okay, I don't know yet. There was a wreck, he's hurt, he got away, but he was out in the cold—he wasn't in good shape when I found him." Brandon couldn't hold his worry inside any longer.

"Are you at the E.R.? I can come sit with you if you need company."

Brandon's heart warmed at the offer, but he knew he had to decline. "Stay home with Elias where it's safe. Russ and the others just went back to work. I'll get to see Riley when the doctors are done with him. I don't know that they'll tell me much since we don't have an official relationship."

"You do know that being fated mates counts as ‘official' in Fox Hollow," Madden said.

"It does?"

"Yep. Do you have a mating bite?"

"Um—what about a mating hickey? We were working up to the bite part."

"I think that will do, given the circumstances," Madden replied, barely keeping from laughing.

"Thanks, Madden. For everything."

"Hey, it's what we do here. Keep me posted."

Brandon felt lonely when the call ended, too restless to sit still and too exhausted from the rescue to pace. He ate a chocolate bar from his pack and made a second cup of coffee before dropping heavily into his chair.

Games and social media on his phone didn't hold his attention, and nothing distracted from his worry. Riley had been prepared to die. Are we over before we even got a chance to start?

He had never been more grateful for the company of his inner moose. He and his other half consoled each other just by being present together. For once, his moose's snark was gone, replaced by somber silence.

"Brandon Davis?"

Brandon looked up to see a woman in a white coat in the doorway of the waiting room. He stood. "That's me. Riley's my fated mate. How is he?"

The doctor smiled. "I've never seen a mating hickey before."

"We were working up to an actual bite, but we've both acknowledged that we have a mating bond," Brandon replied. "Please, tell me if he made it or not." He usually had strict boundaries about reading minds, but he was sorely tempted to break the rules in his panic over Riley.

She gestured toward the seats, and they sat down facing each other. "I'm Dr. Swanson. Riley is alive—and he's going to stay that way."

Brandon whooshed out a long breath. "That's good. That's real good. How bad is he hurt?"

She frowned. "He was in a car wreck?"

"His crazy ex kidnapped him and then skidded off the road and hit a tree," Brandon said. "That's all I know."

"He has bruising consistent with a shoulder and lap belt in a crash, as well lacerations that look like they came from broken glass. I'm not sure how the concussion happened."

"A witness said the kidnapper struck him."

Dr. Swanson nodded. "That's a possibility. We've treated the exposure and are bringing his body temperature back up. There's no frostbite, so that's positive. It's the concussion that has me worried. He hasn't woken."

Brandon's heart sank. "Is that normal?"

She grimaced. "Normal is a range, not a number. It's not uncommon to be unconscious for anywhere from three to twenty-four hours after a concussion, although anything beyond that is a signal of bigger problems. We did scans, and the images look good. I don't see any bleeding."

"That's good, right?"

"Yes. And remaining unconscious can be the mind and body's way of forcing rest. Especially if there were traumatic events leading up to the injury. Riley may need to heal before he's ready to deal with the aftermath."

"Can I stay with him? I promise I won't be any trouble."

She gave him a compassionate glance. "You look like you've had a rough time of it yourself. Let me guess—you shifted fast and pushed yourself hard. Right?"

Brandon had heard of shifters experiencing a backlash if they forced themselves to shift too fast or too often. "Maybe."

"Moose shifter?" she asked, and he wondered what type she was.

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"The big ones have more trouble with quick shifts than the smaller animals. Still not a good idea for the littler ones to switch back and forth fast, but they don't seem to get the same ‘whiplash' that the larger animals do."

"Makes sense."

"Have you eaten a meal since you shifted?"

Brandon gave a guilty shake of his head. Busted.

"I'll make you a deal." Dr. Swanson smiled. "Go eat a real dinner—our cafeteria here is pretty good—and then you can stay with him as long as you want. Fated mate privilege."

"Thank you." His stomach rumbled. "I didn't want to miss hearing how he was, and until I knew, I didn't think I could keep anything down. Now, I'm starving."

"I'll even see if they can put a recliner in the room so you can spend the night." She put a hand on Brandon's arm. "I really think he's going to be okay. Hang on to that."

Brandon ate as quickly as he could, eager to be with Riley. The food was better than he expected from a hospital cafeteria, and he was famished from exertion, but he couldn't enjoy the meal without seeing for himself that Riley was okay.

Dr. Swanson was in the hallway when he returned to the E.R. and waved him over. "You can see Riley now. He's in 403. He's not awake yet, but talking to him quietly is good. We know that patients can often hear what's said around them even when they're not awake. So, tell him positive things and give him a reason to wake up."

He thanked her and hurried to find Riley's room, then hesitated just outside the door.

What are you waiting for? Our mate is hurt.

I guess I'm afraid that it'll be worse than I think.

Being with our mate is good for healing. We can share our energy. Go to him.

Brandon took a deep breath and opened the door. Riley lay pale and unmoving on the bed, hooked up to monitors. Bandages wound around one side of his head, and he had a black eye. Gauze on his hands looked more like coverings for cuts than treatment for frostbite.

Riley had so much natural energy that seeing him still seemed utterly wrong. Brandon closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

I've got to be positive for him.

He needs us, his moose prompted.

Brandon saw that a recliner had been moved into the room. He pulled a smaller chair up to Riley's bedside and blinked to keep tears at bay.

"I'm here. I love you. Please, be okay." Brandon sat next to Riley's bed and took Riley's hand in both of his.

"You're our mate. We're meant to be together. Rest and get better, and then come back to me. We have so much to do together."

Riley gave no indication of having heard Brandon's pleas. Brandon stared at the monitors as if they could reveal the meaning of life. Some were familiar, others less so. He felt bewildered.

"I'm going to stay right here," Brandon told him. "They're going to let me sleep in the room with you. That's good—because they shut everything down.

"There's so much snow out there. And you found a way to get a snowmobile ride before I could go with you, didn't you?" Brandon tried to tease Riley, but his voice choked.

"If I know Madden, he's got everyone in town signing up to bring casseroles once you get out of here. He saved your life. Saw what happened in the parking lot, called the sheriff, and then called me."

Brandon wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. "If it wasn't for Madden, we wouldn't have known what happened to you. You'd have just vanished…and I wouldn't have found you. So we owe him, big time."

He reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand. "I found the truck—and your kidnapper. He's dead. You don't have to worry about him anymore. God, Riley, you don't know how much I just wanted to trample everything; I was so scared and furious. And let me tell you, that pickup wouldn't have stood a chance by the time I was done with it."

He looked for some hint that Riley had heard, but Riley's face remained placid.

"I know it's still early for us. We've got a lot to learn about each other. That might get easier when I actually bite you, but even if it doesn't, we'll manage," Brandon continued. "I want you to move in with me. Build a future. Be together forever."

He dabbed at his eyes and cleared his throat. "I'm glad you got to meet my moose, although the circumstances sucked. He's rather handsome if I do say so myself. He says you smell like anise and maple—that's how we knew you were our mate. It's my new favorite scent." He forced a smile despite his tears.

"I'm going to stay here and ramble until you wake up, so don't make me wait forever because I'll end up saying my multiplication tables after a while," Brandon said.

"I think about how things can be for us before I fall asleep. You'll take your classes and play music, maybe find a side job. We'll trip over each other in the cabin for a while, but we'll figure it out eventually. We'll laugh and have sweaty sex. I'll go to hear you play, and you'll go on a tour with me once in a while. We'll get old together."

Brandon had to stop to get control of his emotions and clear his throat. "I want that future so bad, Riley. I want you. But to make it happen, you have to wake up, babe. I'll be here, waiting. Just please—don't make me wait too long."

Brandon had run out of words. He pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack and eased his parched throat. Riley hadn't stirred.

"When I think of something else to say, I'll bore you some more." He laced his fingers with Riley's. "I'm not going anywhere. Just—please come back to me."