Page 8 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)

RYKER

T he scent hit him again as Ryker restocked the medical supplies, jasmine and magic carried on the November wind that rattled the cabin windows. His wolf became overly alert bombarding him with images of deep brown eyes and ebony hair.

"Knock it off," he muttered, slamming a bottle of antiseptic onto the shelf harder than necessary. "She's not coming back."

His wolf whined in disagreement. The animal had been impossible since last night, constantly testing the edges of his control and flooding him with the urge to track Sonya's scent back to town.

A car door breaking the morning quiet made his stomach tight at the unknown, but when he looked out the window, he saw a beat-up pickup truck and a woman in her thirties lifting something carefully from the passenger seat.

Ryker was outside before she could call for help, recognizing the signs of an injured shifter. The woman cradled what looked like a young deer in her arms, but the scent told him what his eyes couldn't see—shapeshifter, probably no more than sixteen.

"Please," the woman said, her voice tight with controlled panic. "Someone in town said you might be able to help. She tried to shift to human form, but something went wrong."

"Bring her inside." Ryker led the way to the medical cabin, his movements already shifting into the calm efficiency that came with emergency situations. "What's her name?"

"Fawn. She's my daughter." The woman's hands shook as she placed the deer on the examination table. "This is her first year shifting on her own, and she got spooked by some hikers. When she tried to change back..."

"She got stuck halfway." Ryker began his examination, his touch gentle despite the urgency. The young deer's breathing was rapid and shallow, her eyes wide with fear and pain. "It happens sometimes with new shifters. The human mind panics and forgets how to complete the transformation."

"Can you fix it?"

"We'll see." Ryker prepared a mild sedative, speaking in low, soothing tones. "Hey there, sweetheart. I know you're scared, but I'm going to help you, okay? Just going to give you something to help you relax."

The deer shifter's ears flicked at his voice, and some of the panic faded from her dark eyes. Ryker had always been good with frightened animals—human or otherwise. Something about his own experience with fear, maybe, or just natural instinct.

"That's it, just breathe," he murmured, administering the sedative. "Your mom's right here, and you're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

As the medication took effect, the deer shifter's form began to shimmer. Ryker placed his hands carefully on her shoulders, lending his own energy to guide the transformation. It was a delicate process, requiring patience and trust.

"Come on, Fawn," he said softly. "Remember what it feels like to have hands instead of hooves. Remember your human heartbeat."

The shift completed slowly, leaving a teenage girl with wide brown eyes and tangled brown hair on his examination table. She looked around in confusion before focusing on her mother.

"Mom?"

"Right here, baby." The woman rushed to her daughter's side, tears streaming down her face. "You're okay. You're human again."

Ryker stepped back, giving them space for their reunion. The satisfaction of a successful healing settled in his bones, but his wolf was already restless again, catching that familiar scent on the wind.

"Thank you," Fawn's mother said, clutching his hand. "I don't know how to repay you."

"Just take care of her. I’m assuming her father is the shifter?”

The woman nodded slowly. “Was.”

Ryker bit back his own regret, knowing already how hard this must be for a non-shifting parent.

“Well, you did the right thing bringing her here.

Maybe find her a mentor in your area, someone who can help her practice controlled shifting.

" Ryker handed her a card with aftercare instructions.

"New shifters need guidance, especially the first few years. "

After they left, Ryker tried to lose himself in routine tasks. Checking on the other patients, updating medical charts, cleaning equipment. But his wolf refused to settle, and every gust of wind brought reminders of the woman he was trying to forget.

The rumble of another vehicle made him look up from the supply inventory he was pretending to concentrate on. Emmett's truck pulled into the drive, and the alpha wolf climbed out.

"Afternoon," Emmett said, approaching the cabin with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. "Thought I'd check on you. See how things are going."

"Things are fine." Ryker didn't look up from his clipboard. "Just busy with patients."

"Uh-huh." Emmett leaned against the porch railing, his stormy gray-blue eyes taking in details that most people would miss. "Heard you had a visitor last night."

"News travels fast."

"Hell, Twyla probably knew about it before it happened." Emmett's tone was casual, but there was steel underneath. "Varric's concerned."

"Varric's always concerned about something."

"This time he's concerned about you doing something stupid. Like running from what you're meant to face."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do." Emmett moved closer, his alpha presence carefully controlled but unmistakable. "Question is, you gonna keep lying to yourself, or you gonna deal with reality?"

"Reality is that I'm exactly where I need to be. Helping creatures that actually need help, staying out of everyone else's business."

"And what about your business? What about what you need?"

"I don't need anything."

Emmett's laugh was harsh. "Right. That's why you look like you haven't slept in a week and your wolf's practically clawing its way out of your skin."

Ryker set down the clipboard and faced him directly. "What do you want, Emmett?"

"I want you to stop being an idiot." Emmett's expression turned serious. "You think you're protecting people by keeping your distance? All you're doing is making yourself miserable and missing out on something that could be incredible."

"You don't understand?—"

"I understand plenty. I understand what it's like to think you're too broken for anyone to love. I understand being so afraid of screwing up that you never try." Emmett stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I also understand what it's like to realize that fear's just another kind of prison."

"This is different."

"How?"

"Because when I screw up, people die." Ryker’s words were sharp and harsh.. "They always have. They always will."

"Maybe. Or maybe this time is different. Maybe this time you get to choose." Emmett studied his face. "That seer didn't come here by accident, Ryker. And she didn't run screaming when she met you, either."

"She should have."

"Why? Because you're afraid of what might happen?" Emmett shook his head. "Fear's a shitty compass, brother. Tends to point you away from everything worth having."

A gust of wind carried that familiar scent again, along with something that called to every protective instinct Ryker possessed. His wolf whined, pressing against his ribs like it was trying to break free.

"I can't," he said quietly. "I won't be responsible for what happens to her."

"Then don't be responsible for her. Be responsible to her. There's a difference." Emmett headed back toward his truck, pausing at the driver's door. "And Ryker? Whatever you're afraid of facing? It's gonna find you eventually whether you run or not. Might as well face it on your terms."

After Emmett left, Ryker stood alone on his porch, breathing in the sharp November air.

Maybe Emmett was right. Maybe fear was just another kind of prison.

But some prisons existed for good reasons. And some doors were better left unopened.