Page 10

NINE

MAYA

M aya's hands trembled as she tore another strip from her thermal shirt, now reduced to barely more than a crop top.

Blood—so much blood—saturated the makeshift bandages she'd already applied to Kieran's wounds.

The metallic scent filled her nostrils, mingling with the lingering smell of damp fur and something wild that permeated the cabin.

"Don't you dare die on me," she whispered, pressing the fresh fabric against his thigh wound. The laceration was deep, but before her eyes, the edges seemed to crawl toward each other in microscopic increments. "That's... impossible."

Her scientific brain rebelled against everything she'd witnessed in the past thirty minutes.

Men transforming into massive wolves. Kieran—this frustrating, commanding, impossibly attractive man—tearing through three attackers with fangs and claws.

The blood-soaked battlefield that had once been a cabin floor.

And that word. That single, breathed word before he lost consciousness.

Mate .

The moment he'd said it, something deep within her had resonated like a struck tuning fork. A primal recognition that bypassed all rational thought. Her body had understood before her mind could process it, sending heat spiraling through her despite the horror of the situation.

"What the hell does that even mean?" she muttered, checking his pulse at his neck. Strong but erratic. "I'm a biologist, not a supernatural heroine."

Yet the word echoed in her mind, awakening something dormant she'd never acknowledged until that exact moment he uttered it.

The strange pull she'd felt toward him from the moment they met.

The electricity when they touched. The way her body instinctively leaned toward him even when her mind screamed to run.

Kieran stirred slightly, his massive chest rising with a labored breath. Even wounded and unconscious, his body radiated power—lean muscle carved from years of running as both man and wolf, and skin marked with old scars that told stories of battles she couldn't imagine.

"Fascinating," she whispered, her scientific curiosity momentarily overriding her panic as she watched blood clot faster than humanly possible. "Your cellular regeneration rate must be exponentially higher than a human's."

She applied pressure to his shoulder wound, wincing as her fingers slipped in the warm blood. Three dead wolf-men lay scattered around them, their bodies already reverting to human form in death. Men who had come for her, and who would have killed her if Kieran hadn't intervened.

"This isn't peer-reviewed research anymore," she said, anger rising through her fear. "This is actual wolf pack politics. And I stepped right into the middle of it."

Her grandmother's warning echoed in her memory. Never go into the deep woods, Maya. Some things there remember what humans have forgotten.

The blood flow from Kieran's thigh finally slowed to a trickle. Maya exhaled shakily, brushing her copper hair from her face with the back of her wrist to avoid smearing more blood on herself.

"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 what mate meant 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 of fear, 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 gashes were 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 at humor 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."

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 word mate pulsed 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 anything like 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."

"Wolf shifter thing." He shifted slightly, wincing. "Mate thing too."

"About that." Maya set her notebook aside and shifted closer. "What exactly does that word mean to your kind? Because I've been experiencing some very unscientific responses since meeting you."

Kieran's eyes opened then, the silver-blue irises bright with an inner light that was decidedly not human. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

"It means you're mine," he said simply. "And I'm yours. Biology more ancient than science."

Heat flooded Maya's cheeks. "That's...that's not an explanation. That's mythology."

"Is it?" His hand reached for hers, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in the gesture. "Then why are you still here, Dr. Collins? Why not run away while I was unconscious?"

The questions struck at the heart of her confusion. Why hadn't she fled? What invisible tether kept her bound to this man she barely knew?

"I need more data," she deflected, but her fingers intertwined with his of their own accord.

Kieran's thumb traced her palm, sending electric currents up her arm. "Some things transcend your science, Maya."