With a moan, she fell into Flint’s arms, and he hugged her, his heart pounding so hard that he thought it would explode. She was alive. She was in his arms, and he’d never let her go again.
“Am I a freak now?” she whispered, swaying, her knees ready to give out. He held her up easily.
“No, you’re a miracle. You’re my miracle. I love you, Coral. You stubborn wolf.”
“I love you too, you stupid bear.”
*
“Well, that’s going to leave a scar,” Coral said, looking down at her leg. She was in the emergency room, and a nurse practitioner had just stitched up her knife wound.
“It’ll be the sexiest scar ever,” Flint said, nuzzling her neck. He sat on the bed next to her, one arm wrapped around her neck.
“We’re in a hospital, you pervert,” Coral giggled, but she didn’t try to push him away. When Flint touched her, it was like eating chocolate and having an orgasm at the same time; it was always an amazing endorphin rush which flooded her with happiness and a sense of well-being.
“I know, right? There’s no damned privacy here. We’ll make up for lost time in my bedroom tonight,” Flint said confidently.
Marie’s parents were there at the emergency room as well, and David Bollinger’s teenaged kids. There were kidnapped shifters from around the world recovering in their hospital beds, eagerly talking on phones with their families. TV cameras were crowded outside the hospital. Phones were ringing off the hook in the newsroom.
Dr. De Rossi had been captured trying to escape. Melinda was in custody. Most of the mercenaries had been killed, and the rest were also in custody. Metamorph was being shut down.
Bettina had gone to the hospital to be with Frederick, who had half a dozen fractured ribs. Coral had been there when she walked in; Frederick had burst into tears of gratitude.
“I don’t deserve you,” he’d sobbed.
“You’re right,” Bettina had agreed, settling into a chair next to his bed. “I didn’t say I was taking you back. I’m here as a friend.”
Frederick had vowed that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her, and that he would never look at another woman.
“We’ll see,” was all Bettina said, grabbing a cookie from a tray that a nurse had brought him.
Blanche limped in to Coral’s room.
“Are you all right? Why are you limping?” Coral asked, as Flint leaped up and grabbed a chair for her.
“One of those bastard guards nicked me with a bullet. It should have killed me, though. It’s the damnedest thing. I’m immune to silver now.”
“The power of the comet,” Coral marveled. “You know, legitimate scientists will be able to learn so much from all these shifters now.”
Maybelle turned to Blanche and, making a face, said “I guess it’s time for you to gloat now. You were right. That old bastard was just dating me so he could try to pump me for information. He kept asking me what we were working on at the paper, and wanting me to tell him all about the history of Shifters in town. And there I thought he was just interested in my work. I should have known better.”
“No, you shouldn’t have! He just wasn’t good enough for you,” Blanche said stoutly. “That’s why I didn’t like him. You deserve a man who appreciates you for what you are. You’re a foxy mama with a fascinating job and a wicked sense of humor.”
“I am?” Maybelle blinked back tears.
“Of course you are. I tell you what we’ll do, we’ll sign you up for some of those internet dating sites. I meet lots of nice men online. Of course, I have to approve anyone that you go out with.” Blanche paused. “Remember when we were in high school, and that cheerleader called me a tramp because she thought I stole her boyfriend, and you punched her? Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m the only one who gets to call you names, you old skank.” Suddenly Maybelle and Blanche were hugging and crying.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, go away! I…I’m having an allergy attack,” Coral said, blinking hard and wiping at her eyes. “I am not crying,” she added defensively.
“We’ll see you back at the paper,” Maybelle said, pulling Blanche to her feet. “By the way, Mr. Brewster says that just because you were stabbed and kidnapped doesn’t mean you get to hand your story in late.”
The two old women walked out of the room, arm in arm.
Flint hugged Coral to him, and she leaned against him, grateful for his solid, muscular warmth.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you anything, but we couldn’t risk anyone from Metamorph finding out that we knew what they were planning,” Flint said.
“So the local police knew about it too? That’s why they were stonewalling me, and the missing people’s families?”
“Yes. They had no choice,” Flint nodded. “They knew what was at stake.”
“I understand. How did you find out about it in the first place?”
“Off the record?”
“Off the record.”