The hair on his head and in the thin braids was pure white, but he was not an old man. His facial hair was jet black, which matched his very black eyes.

Zander was a polar bear Shifter, a creature as rare as a white tiger. Still more rare, he was a healer, the gift of the Goddess running strong in him.

He was also batshit crazy.

“Greetings, Kendrick,” Zander said, as he strode for the porch, his coat flaring behind him. “Who’s the stiff?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Addie stared in amazement at the man who bounded up the porch stairs with energy. He threw off his duster and thumped a canvas bag to the porch floor, his gaze on Ben. He’d braided blue beads into his dreadlocks, which caught the early light.

“Kendrick,” the man said in a deep baritone as he pointed his forefingers at Ben. “I’m a Shifter healer. He’s not a Shifter.”

“I know,” Kendrick said. “But you’re his best shot.”

The man sank to his heels and moved the sheet from Ben’s legs, taking in the knife hilt sticking out of the bloody wound. “Poor bastard. My diagnosis—he’s been stabbed.”

Ben’s eyes slowly opened. “Great. I’m dying, and I get a doctor who thinks he’s hilarious.”

“You’re not dying.” The man touched Ben’s face with a surprisingly gentle hand. Then he let out a whistle. “Whatever you are, my friend, you’re old. Very old. Old as the hills old. You’ve held on this long—maybe you will a little longer. If we’re lucky. You.” He looked up, his braids swinging around his face, and fixed his midnight gaze on Addie. “I need you to stand right there.” He pointed to a spot next to him.

Addie left Kendrick’s side to go to him. “Why? What can I do to help?”

The man raised his brows. “Nothing. You’ve got great legs—I just want to see them next to me.”

“Oh, Goddess,” Ben groaned. He grinned weakly at Addie. “But hey, he’s not wrong.”

Tiger growled from behind the man. “Heal him. Now.”

The man lost his smile as he glanced at Tiger. “Kendrick, where did you find this guy? I was minding my own business, meditating in my happy place, when he breaks down the door and demands I come with him. I’m Zander, by the way.” The man held out a hand, now streaked with Ben’s blood to Addie. “Alexander Johansson Moncrieff, but you can call me Zander. My ancestors were Norse, but I grew up in Alaska.”

“Addie,” she said, not reaching for his hand. “Short for Addison.”

“Very pretty. Now, who can get me water, bandages, and a stiff shot of whiskey?”

“Whiskey for sterilizing?” Addie asked. “Charlie has rubbing alcohol.”

“No, sweet thing, for me. It was a long ride down dusty roads. I figure as long as I’m stuck in Texas, I might as well be drunk.”

Charlie had disappeared into the house, presumably to fetch the supplies. The cubs were at the living room window, eyes wide, as fascinated as Addie.

“Why are you stuck in Texas?” she ventured.

“Ask laughing boy there.” Zander gestured to Kendrick and turned back to Ben. Even while he’d talked, he’d kept one hand on the man, and Ben, Addie thought, was breathing better. “Kendrick found himself a Shifter healer and decided he could reach out and grab him whenever he wanted.”

“Zander says he loves the cold,” Kendrick said mildly, “but he jumped at the chance to come to warmer parts of the world.”

“Plus, I kinda wore out my welcome up north,” Zander said, his fingers moving on Ben’s side. “Figured I might as well hang out in Texas for a while.”