Part of me is relieved. Part of me is furious. A small, traitorous part of me misses him with an ache I refuse to examine too closely.
I throw myself into work, seeing patients back-to-back and filling every spare moment with case notes and treatment plans. Skylar keeps shooting me concerned looks across the break room, but she doesn’t ask questions, and I don’t volunteer answers.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
It started yesterday. A prickling sensation at the back of my neck whenever I walk through town. I turn around, expecting to find someone there, but the street is always justfull of people going about their business. None of them pays any particular attention to me.
Maybe I’m being paranoid. God knows I have reason to be. Robbie’s threats are still lurking in my phone, and he tracked me across three states. But this feeling is different. Less threatening. More protective.
I shake off the thought and settle into my consultation room for my next appointment. The file on my desk belongs to a young woman named Ivy. She’s eighteen years old and was referred by the medical center for “adjustment issues.”
She arrives exactly on time, but the girl who walks through my door looks nothing like I expected. She’s rail-thin with lank brown hair, and her eyes dart around the room like she’s checking every possible exit. She lowers herself into the patient chair, and her knee begins bouncing immediately.
“Ivy?” I ask. “I’m Dr. Ramos. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“You seem a little on edge.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” she asks with a chuckle. “Living in a town full of people who murdered your family?”
I set down my pen. “Tell me more about that.”
The story pours out of her. Her parents were Cheslem wolves who were part of the pack that attacked Silvercreek a few years back. They died in the conflict, and Silvercreek took Ivy in out of some misguided sense of obligation. She’s been an outcast ever since.
“They gave me a roof,” she admits. “Food and clothes and all the basics. But they look at me like I’m going to snap one day and finish what my parents started.”
“That must be incredibly isolating.”
Her knee bounces faster. “You have no idea. I can’t take it anymore. The whispers and the looks and the way everyone goes quiet when I walk into a room. I’m not my parents. I didn’t choose to be born into that pack.”
I listen and ask questions, and make notes. By the end of the session, I’m convinced Ivy needs more support than weekly therapy can provide. She needs someone in a position of authority to advocate for her.
Someone like the Alpha.
After Ivy leaves, I grab my jacket and head for pack headquarters. I don’t make it halfway across the square before a familiar figure steps into my path.
Connor looks like hell. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and stubble covers his jaw. His clothes are rumpled and smell faintly of pine needles and earth.
“We need to talk,” he prompts.
“Like hell we do.” I try to step around him, but he mirrors my movement. “Move.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“There’s nothing between us.” I glare at him. “You got what you wanted, and now we’re done. Leave.”
He stands his ground. His scent fills my lungs, and my body responds immediately despite my fury. The bond pulses between us and urges me toward him, and I hate how much I want to give in. His closeness makes me insane.
I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm, spins me around, and kisses me before I can react.
It’s desperate and demanding, and God help me, I kiss him back with equal ferocity. My hands fist in his shirt, and I pull him closer, even while my brain screams at me to push him away. The bond sings with approval, and for one perfect moment, nothing else matters but the taste of him.
Then sanity returns.
I shove him back and break the kiss. “You absolute prick. You can’t just kiss me whenever you want to win an argument.”
“Seemed like you enjoyed it.”
