Page 21

Story: Tempting the Wolf

"You have to live," she told his unconscious form, surprising herself with the fierceness in her voice. "I have about a thousand more questions, and you're the only one with the answers."

Like whatmatemeant in a world where men became wolves. Like why her heart raced every time those silver-blue eyes locked with hers. Like why she felt more alive in this blood-soaked cabin than she had in years of meticulous research.

Kieran's eyelids flickered, and a low groan escaped his throat. His hand suddenly clasped her wrist, startling her with its strength despite his injuries.

"Maya," he rasped, his eyes opening to reveal that impossible silver-blue—brighter now, almost glowing. "Are you okay?"

The question floored her. Here he was, torn open and bleeding out, and his first concern was for her safety. Something fierce and protective flared in her chest.

"Am I okay? You nearly died protecting me from werewolf assassins, and you're asking if I'm okay?"

A hint of a smile touched his bloodied lips. "Wolf shifters. Not werewolves."

"That's what you're correcting right now? Terminology?" She couldn't help the slightly hysterical laugh that escaped her. "I think I'm entitled to get the monster classification wrong when I've just watched you transform into an enormous black wolf and tear through three wolf bodies."

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly. "Not a monster." His voice held an edge that sent a shiver through her—not offear, but of something far more dangerous. "Protector. Your protector."

There it was again—that possessive tone that should have offended her independent nature but instead sent heat pooling low in her body.

"What did you mean exactly," she asked, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, "when you called me your mate?"

Before he could respond, his eyelids fluttered, and his grip slackened. The silver-blue glow in his eyes dimmed as consciousness slipped away from him again. Maya's breath caught.

"No, no, no. Don't you dare." She pressed her palm against his stubbled cheek. "Kieran? Damn it, stay with me."

She'd been so close to answers, so close to understanding what this overwhelming pull between them meant. Her scientific mind craved explanation, classification, data—anything to make sense of how her body recognized something in him that transcended rational thought.

Hours passed like molasses as Maya settled into caretaker mode. She found a woolen blanket in a trunk by the bed and carefully covered his massive, naked form, averting her eyes from the sculpted terrain of his body.

"You're incredible," she murmured, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

In the small kitchenette, she discovered a wooden cabinet filled with unlabeled jars containing salves and powders. Her nose—always sensitive—detected hints of comfrey, yarrow, and something musky she couldn't identify.

"Werewolf medicine," she said to herself with a half-hysterical laugh. "Wolf shifter medicine," she corrected, imagining his irritated response.

She selected a green paste that smelled of healing herbs and applied it to his wounds with gentle fingers. The deep gasheswere already knitting together at an impossible rate, but the salve seemed to accelerate the process even further. His skin felt feverishly hot beneath her touch.

"Your temperature is skyrocketing," Maya whispered, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "Is this normal for your kind, or are you really dying on me?"

She dipped a cloth in cool water and bathed his face, neck, and chest where the blanket had slipped down. His muscles flexed involuntarily under her ministrations, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

"I should be running for my life right now," she told him, knowing he couldn't hear. "Three dead wolf shifters on the floor. The man who kidnapped me now unconscious and vulnerable. This is my chance to escape."

Yet she couldn't imagine leaving him like this. The thought of him dying alone twisted something painful in her chest—something that had nothing to do with scientific curiosity and everything to do with the word that hung between them.Mate.

"What have you done to me?" She brushed a lock of black hair from his forehead. "I've built my entire career on observable data, and here I am, feeling things I can't explain."

As the night deepened, his fever worsened. Maya's anxiety spiraled as she continually refreshed the cool cloth, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, and the scar that ran from temple to jawline.

"Come on, big bad wolf. You didn't fight off three attackers just to succumb to a fever."

His breathing became labored, his powerful chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. Sweat beaded on his skin despite the cabin's chill.

"Don't you dare die." Maya's voice cracked. "I'm not done being furious with you for kidnapping me." Her attempt athumor fell flat even to her own ears. "And I'm not done... feeling whatever this is."

Something primal and protective surged through her veins—an unfamiliar sensation for a woman who'd spent her life maintaining emotional distance. She found herself lying beside him on the floor, one arm draped across his chest, her head resting on his uninjured shoulder. The intimacy should have felt foreign and inappropriate, but instead, it felt like returning to a place she'd always belonged.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered against his skin. "I don't even know you."