Bonnie took the seat next to her, Charlie still cradled in her arms. She faced straight ahead, but Lucy sensed the woman watched her with her peripheral vision. Probably waiting for the inevitable reaction to being taken to a vet’s office.
“This is really nice of you guys,” Lucy finally said, standing more slowly, “and I appreciate your wanting to make sure I get treated.” She made sure she added the right amount of Southern appreciation. “But I think I’ll go to my own doctor when I get home.”
“Please let Dr. Cooper take a look,” Bonnie pleaded, eyes wide with something akin to panic mixed with horror.
The fear in Bonnie’s eyes gave Lucy pause, and she tipped her head to the side, brows scrunched. Charlie’s mom was genuinely worried about the bite he’d given Lucy. Maybe the kid had some weird kind of disease? One only a vet could treat? Unlikely, but still, something was off.
A tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties, with neatly trimmed brown hair and mysterious grey eyes, strode from the back. A long white lab coat billowed behind him as he moved, and it didn’t take Lucy long to deduce he must be the amazing Dr. Cooper. He kneeled in front of them, Robert hovering at his back and chewing frantically on a thumbnail.
“Drew,” Bonnie’s breath whooshed from her lungs and she sounded more relieved than seemed reasonable. The town really had changed a lot. Then she leaned in and spoke so quietly Lucy barely heard her. “Charlie bit her.”
Charlie whimpered again and kept his face hidden, buried against his mother’s neck. Dr. Cooper, on the other hand, turned as white as Lucy’s shirt. Well, as white as it used to be. After her adventure, it was more of a grimy grey with streaks of black and splotches of dark red.
“Got it,” Dr. Cooper’s tone was tense and clipped. “If you’ll come with me, Miss…?”
He stood and held out a hand to her. Lucy still couldn’t believe she was going to allow a veterinarian to check out her injury. Then again, she’d been bitten by a kid pretending to be a puppy so it kinda made sense? Sighing heavily, she took his hand and allowed him to help her stand.
“Morgan,” she answered. “Lucy Morgan.”
Dr. Cooper flashed her a megawatt smile and Lucy wondered what kind of insurance she’d need to keep Dr. McHottie as her doctor.
Chapter Four
Thanks to the smoke from the fire, the evening’s sunset lit up the sky over the mountain with a stunning array of reds. Mason tried to forget about everything that had happened that day, just for a moment, as his government-issued Jeep Cherokee bounced over the rutted road that led to the pack house.
Except, as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop those whirling thoughts from intruding. And they weren’t pretty. They bounced around as much as his ancient green Cherokee. The topics ranged from how much longer he had before he went fully feral, to how Anders fared after their spar-turned-attack, and then, to who’d set the damned forest fire and why. Of course, he didn’t have answers to any of the questions, which only pissed off him and his wolf.
Acrid smoke clung to him like shit on sheep, but the underlying scent bothered him most—gas. It hadn’t been an accidental fire started by some negligent camper. Someone had set the fire deliberately, and it had taken a team of twenty firefighters—mostly members of his pack—to contain the blaze. As angry as he was that someone had purposefully put his men’s lives at risk, the culprit’s identity made him even angrier. That made anger edge toward rage.
The minute he’d reached the epicenter of the fire, his wolf had dug through the scents, past the smoke and gas, to find the unmistakable aroma of wolf. A wolf that didn’t belong to him. What fueled his beast’s fury the most was that this strange wolf wasn’t much of a stranger. Something about the scent tickled a faint memory, but he’d been too busy dousing the flames—and worrying about going feral—to give it the attention it deserved. The Jeep thumped into a particularly deep pothole, jolting Mason from his thoughts and damned near out of his seat.
“Shit.” He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, only to find it dirtier than before. “Double shit.”
He pulled up to the pack house right at the gloaming of dusk, and he spotted someone sitting on the front porch. The figure raised a hand in greeting and then stood, obviously waiting for him. Mason sighed. All he’d wanted was a shower, half of a cow, and bed. That didn’t look like it’d happen anytime soon.
“Great,” he grumbled, throwing the truck in park and bracing himself for whatever fresh trouble was brewing in the Blackwood pack. An alpha’s job was never done.
“Evening, Mason.”
Of course, it was Drew Cooper, the pack’s healer and Ashtown’s vet. The poor guy avoided crowds at all costs, even to the point of not stepping foot in his own waiting room if too many patients were out there. And he’d sought out Mason. His shitty day just got shittier.
When Drew stepped closer to shake his alpha’s hand, Mason held up his soot-blackened palms and grimaced.
“Trust me, that wouldn’t turn out well.” He headed toward the back of the house. “I better wash some of this off or Ida will hand me my ass on a silver platter.”
He trudged to the water spigot out back, Drew following at a respectful distance. Mason wondered if he should have called for Kade and Gavin first. Just to make sure they didn’t have a repeat of the incident with Anders. Then again, he barely had the energy to walk, let alone get into another violent tangle.
“How’s Anders?” Mason turned on the water and held the hose over his head. Even in the gathering darkness, he could see the water turn black from all the soot and ash.
“Fine. A few bruises, a good bit of his pride. He’s already back on duty.”
If Mason hadn’t lost control, he might have chuckled at the sentry’s wounded pride. Anders didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Mason did. Scrubbing his face harder than was absolutely necessary, he hoped some of that shame would wash off with the soot. He tossed the hose to the ground and turned off the water before facing Drew.
“If you aren’t here about Anders, what brought you out?”
Drew’s face folded into one of his patented frowns of concern. Mason had learned to heed Drew’s frowns because they usually meant something had gone wrong. Mason didn’t have the patience for the healer to hem and haw.
“Go on and spit it out.”
He took a step closer to get out of the puddle of mucky water he’d created and then…
Mason froze in place, his lungs filled with a delicious scent that called his wolf forward with a single bound. It leapt to the front of his mind, analyzing the scent, and his entire world tilted on its axis. The sharp bite of fire and smoke and the strange wolf no longer consumed him. Instead, the stench was replaced by Drew’s familiar flavors tinged with something else. Something that set his heart racing and knees weak.
It was floral yet fruity, sweet with a hint of tang that he could almost taste. His mouth watered, and his wolf howled while his body yearned to be coated in the scent.
His mate.
Mason didn’t know who she was, but that taunting scent was all over Drew. Not just her natural flavors, but the coppery tang of her blood, too. She was injured?
His body moved of its own volition and Mason launched himself at the pack healer, knocking Drew flat on his back. He had the wolf pinned before the guy knew what hit him and his fangs descended, bared in a clear threat. His mate was injured and the man blinking up at him had her blood on him!
Flashing his teeth with a growled warning, Mason glared at Drew. His eyes latched on to the quickly pulsing vein in his quarry’s throat, and bloodlust threatened to overtake his control. Drew seemed to sense the danger as well. He froze and dropped his gaze away from his alpha’s furious scowl—a sign of submission that appeased his wolf—slightly.
“Where is she?” Mason’s hoarse voice rasped from his partially shifted throat.