A Mating of Convenience

by Elyce de Reefe

  He brushed his teeth, trying to put it out of his mind. There was nothing he could do about his face. He rolled his eyes and quietly opened the bathroom door. This was going to be a very long eleven days if he let his mind start messing with him. Aaron had a very similar face, and he had a human mate. Next he’d start worrying about his body, and he knew for a fact he had nothing to be ashamed of there. He was strong and agile. A skilled carpenter. An asset to the pack.

  Crossing to the bedroom door, he glanced at Nina’s sleeping form with sudden apprehension. Unless she thought he was too large. Boaz swallowed. She was mostly obscured by the covers, but she had one delicate leg exposed to the knee. The lines of her calf and ankle were graceful. Beautiful. The skin looked silky and smooth. Soft. Would she think he was too rough? Too unrefined?

  He let out a disgusted breath and slipped silently out the bedroom door. He wondered if Aaron had ever suffered this agony of uncertainty. Not that he would ever ask. Some things he just could not talk about. With the way she carried herself, he didn’t think Nina was intimidated by his size. But he couldn’t quite banish that niggle of doubt. Mari was human, and she definitely was. At least Nina wasn’t tiny like Mari. Still, he could be careful not to crowd her too much, the same as he did—as they all did—with Mari.

  When he reached the kitchen, it was once again deserted. But there was half a pot of coffee in the coffee maker and a covered tray of something that smelled like scrambled eggs and sausage on the stove. Grabbing a plate, he peeled back the foil and inhaled. He could tell without checking the schedule these were Mari and Gage’s eggs. The chopped onion and peppers gave it away. Which was good. He was starving. Last night’s dinner had been nice, but far from filling.

  He took a seat at the kitchen island and dug in. Elizabeth had made up a schedule, and they had a bit of a breakfast competition going. So far, Mari and Gage were in the lead, but they cheated. They had Elizabeth’s recipes to work with. Boaz was paired up with his brother Zeke, which was a serious disadvantage. They were tied for last place with Lucas and Jeff. Jesse and Eli held second place by a huge margin. His mood lightened suddenly at the idea of adding Nina to his team. But it faded. If Lucas didn’t want her around the women, he’d have to avoid Mari. And since Mari lived at the pack house with the rest of them…

  Boaz felt his mouth tighten. He’d give it another day or two, but it was in Nina’s best interest to spend more time with the pack. The more she interacted with them, the more comfortable she’d become, and the harder it would be for Lucas to see her as anything other than Pack. The man had a protective streak a mile wide.

  Boaz nodded to himself and got up to put his dishes in the dishwasher. He could finesse this. He popped a plate of eggs and sausage into the microwave for Nina and poured the rest of the coffee into an urn. If he covered the plate with foil, it should stay warm for a while. He made a mark on the chart, giving Mari and Gage an 8.5. He and Zeke were up in three days. He smiled. He could work with that.

  Nina followed Boaz down the stairs to the basement with the eggs she’d just finished churning in her stomach. The day had started out okay. Opening her eyes to see Boaz, still shirtless— slipping into the room carrying a tray, was not a bad way to wake up. As a doctor, she had a fine appreciation for a well-maintained body, but the sight of a very fit bare-chested man bringing her breakfast in bed? Yeah. Not bad.

  The man was… well, she could have used him when she was studying for her anatomy exam.

  It wasn’t until after she’d eaten that he’d mentioned this little rendezvous with Lucas. The Alpha. And the ominous words he’d had spoken only moments before, “Lucas has questions,” weren’t helping. Especially since this was not her first trip to the basement. She’d been quarantined down here the night she’d arrived. The remembered fear of trudging down these stairs to some presumed horrible fate—with Lucas in front of her, and Boaz behind—was hard to shake.

  The fact that the basement had turned out to be a very well-appointed man-cave, complete with a gorgeous cherry bar, a beautiful hand-carved pool table, leather sectionals and a huge flat-screened TV—not the torture chamber of doom she’d been expecting—only helped a little.

  That had been a bad night. She remembered sitting on the couch under Lucas’s harsh gaze with her stomach in knots. Lucas, who still had her gun. Trying to make herself look small, she watched as Boaz checked what looked like some very high-end security equipment. It was housed in a small room that had probably once been a supply closet. Boaz’s large form seemed to take up all the available space, but Nina still wanted to scoot in there after him. She made a move in that direction.

  “Sit.” Lucas’s one-word command had her sinking back onto the couch.

  She sat very still, trying not to call attention to herself. Lucas kept a sharp eye on her, glaring as if he expected trouble. Try as she might, she couldn’t help wondering what they were planning to do with her, her mind spinning through endless scenarios— none of them good.

  Eventually Boaz emerged and had a low voiced consultation with Lucas that she couldn’t overhear, no matter how hard she strained. And then to her complete surprise, Boaz went behind the bar and returned with a ginger ale for her. He settled beside her on the couch—not too close—but not far either, and the waiting began. He and Lucas each had a brandy, but they weren’t about to perform surgery. Nina only hoped her hands would be steady enough once her patient arrived.

  Yeah, nothing about that night had been fun, in spite of Boaz’s unexpected kindness. Now, she reached the bottom of the stairs to find Lucas pacing the area between the bar and the pool table, looking less than welcoming. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and head right back up. But Boaz seemed to sense it. He reached back smoothly and took her hand, pulling her forward past him, into the room. Presenting her.

  “Ah. Dr. Evans. Good.” Lucas’s dark eyes were narrowed, his voice determined. “Come and sit.”

  He indicated a bar stool that had been pulled away from the bar, set in the open area between it and the pool table. Nina had a hard time imagining a more vulnerable position. Boaz released her hand as if he fully expected her to comply.

  “That’s alright,” she said, relieved that her voice didn’t tremble, “I’ll stand.”

  Lucas leaned toward her. He thrust out one hand and pointed at the stool. “Sit.”

  The carefully enunciated word was almost like a threat, and she barely avoided a flinch. Was it her imagination or was he— expanding somehow? Looming?

  She glanced at Boaz. For what, she wasn’t sure. Reassurance? Guidance?

  He gave her a tiny chin lift indicating she should take the stool. She swallowed. This was happening. An interrogation. At least there were no signs they planned to waterboard her. No handy roll of duct tape in sight. No grisly tools of torture laid out on the bar.

  Nina squared her shoulders. Fine. They were doing this? She crossed to the stool and climbed up. “It’s a little early for a drink, but I’ll take a Shirley Temple, if you don’t mind.”

  Lucas’s mouth tightened, but the corner of Boaz’s mouth tipped up in a tiny smile.

  “Coming right up,” he said and slipped behind the bar.

  She could hear him back there, but couldn’t see him since her back was to the bar. Still, it was comforting somehow to know he was behind her. Her backup. She almost rolled her eyes.

  “Dr. Evans, Boaz has told you I have some questions?” Lucas’s voice was more courteous now, but she wasn’t fooled.

  “That’s right.” She considered telling him to call her Nina, try to build that rapport, but she just couldn’t manage it.

  “I want you to tell me everything. When did you first meet Marten?” He leaned in slightly. “And how is it, exactly, you came to be working on the Sickness?”

  Chapter 8

  Nina’s mind raced. Memories of that fateful night three years ago swirled through her mind. A wild-eyed Marten had arrived at the free clinic she volunteered at well
after midnight, yelling about an emergency, and barely restraining a feverish, incoherent man in his powerful arms. She’d tried to send him to the hospital, tried to convince him she didn’t have the right equipment, but he refused.

  “It’s you or nothing, Doc. Get to work.”

  She might have taken offense at his tone. At his words. But he was clearly distraught over the state of his friend, and she was familiar with how stress could bring out the worst in a person. It was his steely grey eyes that stared at her in blatant challenge that had her fighting a shiver. But it wasn’t like she was going to turn someone away who so obviously needed care. Still, she wished like hell she wasn’t alone tonight with only one nurse and an intake clerk, both of them female.

  She led them to an exam room and did what she could for him. It had been a horrible night, full of pain, disquiet and fear. The patient had to be sedated before she could examine him. She hadn’t wanted to do that. “I don’t know how it will affect him. I don’t know what he’s taken.” Because he was clearly raving. He had to be on something.

  “He hasn’t taken anything.” The dark-haired man’s arms bulged as the patient lunged for her, snapping his teeth like an animal, and making the most inhuman sounds. It was terrifying. If he broke free, she was toast. And heartbreaking too. This was a human being. Or so she’d thought.

  “Dr. Evans?” Lucas’s impatient voice broke into her reverie.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but Boaz came up beside her and handed her a glass. She glanced up at him. He gave her a nod and a closed-mouthed smile. Reassurance. She was almost sure of it.

  “Thank you,” she said faintly, knocked off balance yet again by his unexpected kindness. She took a quick sip and couldn’t help a little smile of her own. It was sweet and refreshing. Bracing even. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a Shirley Temple.

  “Thank you, Boaz.” Lucas’s voice was very dry. “That will be all.”

  Nina felt a jolt of alarm. He was leaving? She would be alone with— Lucas? She shot Boaz another look. She had a bad feeling her expression was imploring, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at Lucas, a stony expression on his face.

  “I’m staying. You are not my Alpha yet. And she is under my protection.”

  A ridiculous flood of gratitude and relief filled her. Which made no sense. He’s one of them. But he was staying. Nina released a slow breath.

  Boaz shifted to stand just behind her right shoulder, and suddenly, with his large frame at her back, the stool didn’t feel nearly as vulnerable.

  She lifted her chin. “Right,” she said, taking control of the interview. “The first time I met Marten was about three years ago when he came into the free clinic I was working at. He had his friend Gary Heartwood with him. Mr. Heartwood had what you call the Sickness.”

  Lucas stirred at her words, but didn’t say anything. Behind her, Boaz was a statue.

  “Marten explained that it was a rare genetic disease that affected his family and many members of his community. In its most extreme form, he told me, it caused those affected to develop high fevers, rave and begin to self-destruct, becoming a danger to themselves and others.”

  Nina paused and took another sip of her drink, the sweetness a tiny balm on her regret. “We tried everything. Treating the fever did nothing. Sedating him only worked if I gave him enough to knock him out, and that took more than twice the usual dosage for a man his size. I took blood samples, naturally. I thought he must be on something— meth or PCP, although Marten denied it. I just couldn’t believe a genetic disorder could cause that.” She sighed. How much should she say? She did not want to anger this man further.

  “Marten was desperate to save his friend, but in the end—” She blew out a soft breath. “I couldn’t save him.” She held Lucas’s gaze. The expression in his deep brown eyes seemed to have softened slightly. She felt her mouth tighten in regret and forced herself to say the next words. “He died two days later.”

  Lucas turned away abruptly and began pacing. “How did he die? You were there when it happened?” The questions were sharp. His expression had returned to a scowl. Or maybe a glare.

  Nina shook her head as she watched the Alpha pace. He was all leashed power and frustrated intent. She noticed his fists were clenched at his sides.

  “No. Marten told me. He… He came in a few nights later to let me know…”

  She would never forget the sight of him, this powerful, commanding man, just shattered with grief. She didn’t know what to do for him, so she took him into the break room and made him herbal tea. To her surprise, he took it without comment, sipping it slowly as he told her stories of his friend, the mischief they’d gotten into as youths, landing their first job in a factory together, renting their first apartment. It was heartbreaking but oddly flattering to be the person this strong man turned to in his hour of need, and somehow soothing to share the burden of loss for the man they had both tried to save.

  It was a slow night, and no one came into the clinic to disturb them. Nina made more tea and found herself telling him about Eva. Her desperate search for a cure, her need for a genetic match—for stem cells—even her research into fertility.

  “Yes,” he agreed at one point. “You are not fertile.” It was an offhand comment and she would have challenged him on it, but his next words stopped her.

  “My people are very fertile,” he said bitterly. “Not that it helps them.”

  He slammed his fist down on the table, making her jump. Nina had to strain to hear his next words. “Not when this is the result.”

  The disgust in his voice sent a wave of pity through her. But it got her thinking. Could there be some connection between their extreme fertility and the genetic weakness that made them vulnerable to this disorder? It was an interesting question. Of course, she only had his word to go on regarding the fertility, and it was a stretch. But she’d been grasping at straws for so long now. And since most populations in the developed world were decreasing in fertility…

  Apparently, it got him thinking too, because he sat up and turned those cool grey eyes on her. “Maybe we should use those research skills of yours to solve both our problems.”

  She stared at him. “But… how?”

  “I bring you samples—blood, right? You could find out what’s causing the Sickness. And maybe there’s some clue in there for your… fertility problem.” He slumped down again, looking away. “I can’t pay you. At least not much.” Then those light grey eyes met hers again, pleading, and the desperation there made her swallow. “But you’re a doctor. And if it can save people like Gary…” He trailed off, looking away, lost in his memories.

  “I’ll do it,” Nina said, feeling something click inside her. Some feeling of rightness sliding home. She had become a doctor to help people. To save lives. But it had devolved into a single-minded effort to save her sister. And after struggling against that unattainable goal for so long— it felt good to have a second purpose. Especially since it might help her achieve her own ends too.

  Boaz shifted slightly behind her and Nina blinked, coming back to her current surroundings. Lucas had halted his pacing and stood before her. “So you don’t know how he died?”

  “He succumbed to the illness. It’s very destructive, attacking the nerves and the tissue of the brain.”

  Lucas turned away. “I see.” He continued pacing. “And that’s when you started doing the research on the Sickness?”

  Nina started. “Yes,” she said. “He asked me to see if I could find a cure, or even some kind of treatment to slow its progress.” He’d called it that, she realized. “The Sickness.” At the time she’d thought he was just using a generic term—

  “Dean tells me you have been conducting three different lines of research.” The question was clearly a challenge.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Explain.”

  Nina resisted the urge to show her annoyance. It wouldn’t help this situation. “Well, th
e research I needed to do—the equipment I needed in order to conduct it—isn’t cheap. I worked at a research lab with state-of-the-art equipment in order to gain access to their resources. Naturally, I had to pursue their research projects. They were focusing on a pheromone project, and a line of aphrodisiacs.”

  When she’d first taken the job, she’d been horrified to discover the corners they were taking in testing. The drugs weren’t legal and good old Simon didn’t care about the long-term effects. Aphrodisiacs were generally made from poisons, and these were being used on women. And she wasn’t sure, but she had a bad feeling those women might not have any say in the matter. Nina felt duty bound to try to make them safer. That’s what made her look into using the hormones and pheromones created from the samples Marten brought her. And it was amazingly effective.

  “And I had my own research to pursue.” She forced a shrug. No way would she tell them anything about her sister. She had no intention of just handing them the means to control her.

  “The fertility research.”

  She nodded.

  “Dean tells me you kept both the Sickness research and your fertility work from your employers. Care to tell me why?”

  “Marten asked me not to reveal the work I was doing on the disease. The Sickness, as you call it. He was willing to bring me samples to work with for my own research too, with the understanding that his community preferred to keep a very low profile. I respected his wishes. Of course.” She forced another shrug. “There was no reason to inform my employers about my own project.”

  Lucas paused in front of her again, his eyes narrowed. “So. Marten. Are you telling me you have a completely professional relationship with him?”

  Nina felt herself flush. Behind her, Boaz shifted again. There was a time when she’d entertained the idea, but he was too… darkly mysterious. And he had that air of danger about him. Not that she had time for that kind of thing. Or that he’d shown any interest whatsoever.