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But her body disagreed. Her body recognized him as if they'd known each other across lifetimes.

As dawn light filtered through the cabin's single window, Kieran finally stirred beneath her. His hand came up to cover hers where it lay against his heart.

"You stayed," he murmured, his voice rough with pain and something deeper.

Maya lifted her head to find his silver-blue eyes—still fever-bright—fixed on her face with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

"Don't read too much into it," she said, fighting the heat rising to her cheeks. "I'm a scientist. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to observe accelerated healing in a new species."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Is that why you've been talking to me all night? For science?"

Heat flooded her face. "You heard that?"

"Not everything." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "But enough to know you care whether I live or die. That's progress."

"I have questions. A lot of questions."

"I bet you do." His eyes drifted closed again, but his grip on her hand remained firm.

Maya watched as Kieran's breathing steadied again, the rise and fall of his muscular chest becoming more rhythmic. Even in sleep, raw power radiated from him—an alpha predator at rest. She gently eased her hand from his grasp, a strange reluctance tugging at her as she broke the connection.

"I need to process," she whispered to herself, rising from the cabin floor.

Blood stained the wooden planks where the three bodies lay. Maya's stomach turned at the sight of them, their human forms a stark reminder of the violence she'd witnessed. With methodical movements, she located a stack of sheets in a small linen closet and draped them over the corpses.

"There. Scientific objectivity maintained." But her hands trembled as she smoothed the last sheet, betraying the clinical detachment she tried to project.

The cabin's broken window and splintered door frame left them exposed. Outside, birdsong had resumed after the night's carnage, deceptively peaceful. Maya surveyed the damage with a critical eye.

"Why am I trying to fix his cabin?" she muttered as she gathered tools from a small utility box near the kitchenette. "Stockholm syndrome in full effect?"

Yet she couldn't deny the strange possessive urge that drove her—the desire to secure this space and to make it safe for them both. For him.

"This is absolutely irrational," she chided herself, hammering a piece of plywood she'd found outside the cabin over the shattered window. Each strike echoed her frustration. "I'm a PhD in wildlife biology, not some primal female securing a den for her mate."

The wordmatepulsed in her mind with each heartbeat. What did it mean in his world? Why did it resonate on such a visceral level within her? She'd certainly never felt anythinglike this electric pull before—this instinct that defied her lifelong devotion to empirical evidence and rational thought.

After securing the door as best she could with the limited materials available, Maya wiped sweat from her brow and stepped back to assess her work. Not perfect, but it would keep anyone else from simply walking in.

Her gaze drifted to Kieran's sleeping form, now partially covered by the blanket she'd pulled over him. His black hair fell across his forehead in stark contrast to his tanned skin. The scar that ran from temple to jaw only enhanced his rugged appeal.

She retrieved her backpack from where she'd left it on the bed and pulled out a fresh notebook and pencil. She walked back to where Kieran lay on the floor and sat down beside him. Her fingers traced the empty page of her notebook before taking up her pencil. With swift, precise strokes, she began to sketch from memory.

His transformation had been both terrifying and magnificent. One moment Kieran had stood protective before her, the next his body had contorted—bones shifting, muscles redistributing, and dark fur sprouting along powerful limbs. The massive black wolf that had emerged had retained Kieran's silver-blue eyes, a bridge between man and beast that had shaken Maya to her core.

"How is this even possible?" she whispered, adding detail to the massive paws in her sketch. "Conservation of mass alone would suggest?—"

A low groan from Kieran interrupted her scientific musings. His eyelids fluttered but didn't open.

"Maya," he murmured softly. "Stay with me."

Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in her chest at the command—not irritation at being ordered, but a strange compulsion to comply. To be near him.

"I'm here," she replied, surprising herself. "Just making notes."

"Always the scientist." His lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained closed.

Maya examined him clinically, noting how the wounds that should have been fatal were now reduced to pink lines across his skin. "Your healing rate is phenomenal. I've never observed anything like it."