Touch of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  Was that a crib? Having just pulled up to the curb in front of Sam’s house, Luc sat in his rental car and watched her and Patricia carry a white-painted crib up the front sidewalk and into the house.

  They emerged a few minutes later and did the same with what looked like a dresser or changing table. Lastly, Patricia came out alone and retrieved a matching wooden rocking chair. She locked her pickup and carried the chair into the house.

  Now what? Luc scratched his head. All of the information he’d been given showed Samantha Warren as divorced. Unencumbered.

  Was she pregnant? Who—and where—was the father?

  Tamping down savage fury, Luc realized he couldn’t bear to think of her with another man. She was his mate, damn it. His.

  He cursed. There he went with that insanity again. Hell hounds, he had it bad.

  Desperate for distraction, he put in a call to Frank.

  “Pregnant?” The mayor sounded as stunned as Luc. “How can that be? None of the data mentioned a boyfriend.”

  “None of the data mentioned she’s pregnant, either. Looks like they’re wrong on two points.”

  Frank didn’t respond. Instead, he seemed in a hurry to get off the phone. “See what you can find out,” he said. “Go talk to her. Do your thing. We have faith in you.” He hung up.

  We have faith in you. Closing his cell phone, Luc shook his head. Oddly enough, those words stung. How could anyone have faith in him when he had no faith in anything, least of all himself?

  Nonetheless, even thinking of little Lucy in a hospital bed had him squaring his shoulders and getting out of the car. Though the test results had not yet been completed, he knew whatever was wrong with her was serious.

  Since Patricia had left the front door wide-open, he didn’t ring the bell. Patricia saw him first, eyes widening. “Sam,” she called. “You have company.”

  A second later, Sam poked her head around a corner. She’d pulled her long hair into a ponytail and looked as fresh and youthful as a teenager.

  While he stared, Patricia squinted at him as though he’d made a huge error in judgment.

  “What are you doing here?” The vet’s abrupt tone told him he wasn’t welcome, at least by her. Luc didn’t care. He wanted to talk to Sam, be with Sam. This all-consuming need had gotten so bad that he’d reached for her this morning, even though she’d never shared his bed.

  She would. Soon.

  He winced at the thought.

  Obviously, Sam assumed he’d winced because of her friend’s tone. “Welcome, Luc,” she said softly, giving Patricia a warning look. “What can I do for you?”

  The way she phrased her question had him again imagining all kinds of sensual delights. As color infused her face, he saw she shared his thoughts.

  This made him absurdly happy, though he took care to hide his emotions from the two women.

  “I came by to talk to you about these books.” Pulling a card from his pocket, he scanned the list of titles he’d written down. Well aware that most of them were fairly rare texts and a library in a town the size of Anniversary would have to borrow them from someplace like Dallas, he’d planned to use them as an excuse to spend time with her.

  Only to learn if she was a healer, of course.

  “Let me see.” Once he’d handed her the card, he smiled at Patricia, who still eyed him with distrust.

  “Couldn’t this have waited until the library is open in the morning?”

  “Patricia!” Sam scolded. “Quit.”

  As his inner wolf bristled, recognizing the challenge, Luc chose to answer. “Yes, probably, but I knew getting some of these books will take time, and time is something I don’t have in abundance.”

  They locked eyes. Patricia looked away first.

  “What’s the hurry?” she asked.

  “I’ve got to go home soon. My best friend’s daughter is seriously ill.”

  Both women stared. Then Sam’s eyes grew soft. She moved closer, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  At the simple touch, he was lost. He forgot Patricia, forgot his supposed reason for visiting Sam’s home, forgot everything but the woman looking at him with gentle doe eyes.

  Crushing her to him, he claimed her mouth. The hunger that had been building in him since he’d first seen her roared to life, like a starving wolf released from a cage to hunt.

  With reckless abandon, she returned his kiss, her entire body quivering.

  Loudly, Patricia cleared her throat. Once, twice, then a third time.

  Sam pushed away. Reluctantly, Luc let her go.

  Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her composure. “Wow,” she said softly, touching her mouth with her fingers.

  “What the hell was that?” Ever the protector, Patricia moved between them, eyeing Luc as though she wanted to punch him.

  “Patricia!” Though breathless, Sam’s voice carried authority. “Enough. This is between me and Luc.”

  “I see.” Expression wounded, her friend moved away. “Then I’ll let myself out.” At the entryway, she turned and faced Sam once more. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Then she left.

  Sam returned her attention to Luc. Wariness and wonder warred in her eyes. “We need to talk,” she said.

  “I agree.” He let out a long, audible breath.

  “Sit.” Motioning to the sofa, she took a seat in the overstuffed chair on the other side of the coffee table.

  Though he didn’t want to sit—he wanted to pace—he acceded to her wishes and lowered himself onto the edge of the soft cushions.

  “Why did you do that?” Her cheeks still bloomed with color. “Kiss me, I mean.”

  Regarding her, he noted how she clasped and unclasped her hands. “Because I wanted to.”

  Evidently, his nonanswer gave her the courage to be blunt. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

  “I’m not looking for a one-night stand.”

  She stared, a bemused look in her eyes. The very air between them felt electrified.

  “What are you looking for then?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “You.”

  Deeper color suffused her face, yet he knew from the little quirk at the corner of her lips that his answer had pleased her. Even if she had no idea what kind of beast he was, or even of her own shifter heritage, he knew she felt the invisible tie between them as strongly as he.

  How could she not? Mates always did.

  “Patricia says you want to use me.”

  Dangerous ground.

  “Use you how?”

  Instead of answering, she shook her head.

  Knowing it was too soon, yet aware he had little time, Luc considered broaching the reason he’d traveled to Texas.

  Instead, he asked about the crib.

  “Oh, that.” She bit her lip. “I’m trying to adopt a baby.”

  His first reaction was fierce joy that there wasn’t another man. His second was astonishment. She couldn’t have floored him more if she’d tried.

  “Why?”

  Pain darkened her eyes to a rich coffee color. “It’s a long story.”

  He wanted to know everything about her. “If it’s not too painful, I’d like to hear.” His heart thumped three times in his chest while she decided. Then, with a small nod, she took a deep breath.

  “My mother and I were on our way to a vacation in Mexico two years ago. We were on Flight 601.” Pausing, she gazed at him as though she expected him to recognize what that meant.

  An instant later, he did. “Was that the one that crashed on landing?”

  She nodded.

  “There were only, what, ten survivors?” He couldn’t believe she’d nearly…No. He couldn’t even think such a thing. Not only would the Pack—and Lucy—have lost a healer, but he couldn’t imagine a world without Sam in it.

  “Yes, ten. I lived. My mother didn’t.” Sam’s voice cracked. In awe, he watched her visibly regain control of herself and square her shoulders. />
  Still, she wouldn’t look at him. She gazed at her hands, twisting them together in her lap.

  “Anyway, I was injured in the crash. Though they aren’t quite certain what caused this, it seems to have made me…infertile. Eric—my ex-husband – and I wanted children. When I couldn’t have them, he found someone who could.”

  The magnitude of her loss astounded Luc. He’d lost his brother and suffered boundless guilt over his failure to save him. Yet Sam had not only lost her mother, she’d lost her husband and her dreams of a family.

  Chest tight, Luc rose and went to her, kneeling beside her chair and pulling her close. He’d just met this woman, yet he felt as if he’d known her forever, and realized she was more damaged than he. Both inside and out. He didn’t wonder at his reaction to her, finally accepting what his every instinct told him she was.

  His mate.

  Whether or not she could heal remained to be seen.

  Inhaling the vanilla sent of her hair, he offered what little comfort he could, knowing it was not enough.

  For an instant she let him hold her. Then, stiffening, she twisted out of his arms and to her feet.

  “Don’t.” Her dark look full of pain, she strode away from him. Her agitated pacing reminded him of the Pack. Shifters and wolves both paced.

  Sam was more shifter than she realized, even if she couldn’t change.

  A thought struck him. “Do you take any medicine for allergies?”

  She stared at him as if she thought he’d gone insane.

  “No. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, he didn’t answer, though inwardly he felt relief. One of the ingredients in allergy medications could subvert a shifter’s ability—and need—to change. If that had been the case, and if Sam had been unconsciously blocking her basic need to shift, when she stopped taking the pills, she would know the truth about herself. She would have been able to become a wolf.

  And she wouldn’t have been able to heal.

  His cell phone chirped, shrill in the quiet room. “Hello?”

  “Luc?” It was Carson Turner, Luc’s closest human friend. “I’ve got some bad news.”

  Something in Carson’s voice…Luc felt a stab of fear deep in his gut.

  “Tell me, how’s the hunt for the healer coming?” Carson was clearly trying to compose himself enough to deliver his news.

  Cautiously, Luc told him it was going okay.

  “Okay isn’t good enough. Lucy’s very sick. We’ve finally found out what’s wrong with her. The CT scan showed a large brain mass—” His voice cracked and he was unable to finish.

  Luc couldn’t believe his ears. “A brain mass? What does that mean? What is it?”

  “Lucy has a brain tumor.” Carson’s voice broke again.

  Closing his eyes against the wave of grief, Luc waited.

  A moment later, Carson continued. “Medullo-blastoma. Malignant. And worse, the tumor is inoperable. Even if it wasn’t, even if they were able to cut it out and treat her with radiation and chemo, it’d probably come back.”

  Not Lucy! Luc could see her as she’d been only a short month ago, a giggling, happy child, over-flowing with a boundless curiosity about life. “Then you’re telling me…?”

  Carson took a deep breath. “Buddy, these kinds of tumors are nearly always…” He couldn’t go on, the word he hadn’t said hanging between them.

  Fatal.

  “No.” Luc refused to believe it. “Get a second opinion. Hell, get a third. There’s got to be someone who can operate.”

  “I know. We are. We’ve got a call in to Sloan-Kettering in New York City. There’s a pediatric oncologist there who is known for handling this kind of thing.”

  “What about the blood work?” Though he hated to, Luc had to ask. Halflings’ blood was irregular enough to raise flags among the human medical community.

  “Dr. Nettles is one of us,” Carson said tiredly. “He’s Pack. He’ll take care of the little problem with the blood work. But I don’t think any of the standard medical options are going to help too much longer. We need a miracle.”

  Tension coiled in Luc’s gut. He knew exactly what his best friend wanted to say next.

  On the other end of the phone line, Carson went silent. Luc knew him well enough to realize his friend was waiting for a response.

  A miracle? He glanced at Sam. She had told him she wasn’t a miracle worker.

  “I still don’t know anything, Carson,” Luc told him quietly. “I need a bit more time.”

  “Time? We’ve run out. We can’t wait any longer for the healer. Even if you’re not a hundred percent certain, anything is better than doing nothing. You can’t imagine how it feels to have to sit by and watch your little girl die.”

  Ah, but in a way Luc could well imagine. After all, Kyle had died a slow and painful death. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Bring the healer here to help Lucy.”

  “I—” Luc’s stomach clenched. “I don’t know if she’ll come. She knows nothing, Carson.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then Carson asked in a shocked voice, “You mean she’s not aware she’s a Halfling?”

  “Correct.”

  “She doesn’t know about the Pack?”

  “No.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Carson sounded firm—and desperate. “You’ve got to tell her. Don’t you understand? Lucy won’t live if you don’t convince this healer to come.”

  “But…” Luc shot another glance at Sam, who was still silently watching and listening.

  “Luc, they’ve given Lucy a month, max. Her doctor has said it’s more a matter of weeks. Weeks! Please. If anyone can help save her life, you can. I have faith in you, Luc.”

  Luc swallowed, unable to reply for the ache in his throat. Faith in him? Again, the exact same words Frank had used.

  Hell hounds.

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said, despair making him finally relinquish his death grip on the phone. Closing it, he dropped back into the chair, head in his hands. Throat aching, he tried to make sense of it all.

  As he’d suspected, Lucy wasn’t merely seriously ill. She was dying. And fast.

  He’d thought he’d have a bit more time. Worse, he’d let his attraction to Sam get in the way of what he’d come here to do. Find a healer. Help his people. And save a little girl from dying.

  “Luc?” Sam’s voice was tentative.

  Dazed, Luc lifted his head. He could only stare at her, trying to comprehend her question. Feeling as if he were operating underwater, he pulled out his wallet and removed a photo, handing it to her. “This is Lucy. The child I told you about. She’s my best friend’s little girl, and he just told me she’s dying.”

  Chapter 4

  Reluctantly, Sam took the picture, hoping Luc didn’t notice how her fingers trembled. Staring at the dark-haired toddler grinning up at the camera, she caught her breath. A familiar pain blossomed in her chest. By now she’d have thought she’d be used to it, that awful ache that reminded her she had no child of her own. Until the adoption came through—if it ever did—she guessed she’d have to live with the sense of loss.

  Beloved child.

  “She’s beautiful,” Sam said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  He swallowed, and she could see him fighting back tears. “She has a brain tumor. She’s only three.”

  Sam handed the photo back, her heart aching for the little girl and her family. “What about surgery? Do they plan to remove the tumor?”

  “No.” His voice held a desperate kind of finality. “The doctors say it’s inoperable. Even if they could operate, this one is malignant, which means it would come back.”

  Malignant. Inoperable. Bleak words, without hope. “What are her chances?”

  “These kinds of tumors are nearly always fatal.”

  “Nearly always.” Seizing the one hopeful thing in all he’d said, she watched him. “That means she has
a chance, no matter how slim, right?”

  “No. Carson—that’s her dad—said they told him she has less than a month to live. Lucy is the reason I came here to Anniversary, Sam. To find someone who can help her.”

  “We’re not known for our doctors. You’d have better luck in Dallas or Houston.”

  “I didn’t come here for a doctor.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know I promised not to ask you again without good reason, but the stakes have changed.” He took a deep breath, his gaze sharp and assessing. “I need to know the truth. Can you heal with your hands? Are you a healer?”

  Even though he didn’t say the words, she could hear the unspoken part of his plea. Because if you are, you can save Lucy.

  But he was wrong. Even if she admitted to him what her hands could do, her gift only worked with animals. She knew that; once when Patricia had been sick, Sam had tried to heal her and failed.

  “I…” She didn’t know what to say. Though she felt horrible for the little girl—and him—admitting anything about her ability to heal animals wouldn’t do any good.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally told him. “I can’t help you.”

  Shaking his head, he moved closer, his mouth tight and grim. When he touched her shoulder, she wanted to lean into him. But she didn’t—she couldn’t. Not when she’d had to deny him the miracle cure he so actively sought.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Don’t be. Sam, I know the truth. The wolf pup—Tomas—told me you healed him.”

  A soft gasp escaped her. She’d thought she’d imagined the wounded animal revealing his name. In all the years she’d been healing creatures, there had only been one other time when she’d thought the animal had attempted to directly communicate with her.

  She didn’t know what to say.

  Wearing a humorless smile, he watched her. “He gave you his name, didn’t he?”

  Eyes wide, she didn’t respond.

  “Tomas said he was badly injured, dying maybe. He claims you laid your hands on him and he felt warmth, then rapid healing. He swore he could feel his wounds close, his bones knit back together. Is this true?”