Zane growled.
Vivianne swallowed. He’d been touching her when she was unconscious. Her hands curled into fists, and Dave held up a finger.
“Don’t. I’m not a sleaze. For this, think of me like you would a doctor.”
“You’re not a doctor,” Ryder and Hunter chorused.
“A magical doctor. Whatever. What do you remember of the night you were bitten?”
The change of topic caught Vivianne off guard, and she blinked. “Uh, pain,” she said instinctively. Zane looked at her, an understanding in his eyes. He’d “visited” her last nightmare. He’d seen her memory on replay—although there were some bits that were more of a fantasy than a memory.
Oh, God, no. Not a fantasy. That would imply she’d wanted him to kiss her, that she’d been harboring some secret desire for the damn werewolf. Ugh. No. Not that.
Although, he was a good kisser. In her dreams, anyway. Better than good, actually. Pretty damn fantastic—damn it, there was that word again. She was not crushing on the lycan. Her father would disown her. Her colony would spurn her.
“It was pretty sudden.” She hurried on, hoping that Hunter didn’t still have some backdoor access to her mind and see her mentally fumbling about over Zane. “Black wolf, bounding out of the darkness, fangs. Pain. Then pretty much nothing.”
Dave folded his arms, and his leather jacket creaked with the movement. “Do you remember anything about visiting the Woodland pack?”
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