Craved By Her Wolf (Silverwood Island Shifters)

by Maia Starr

  Shaking her head, she breathed in. Whether this man was attacked by a bear, wolf or human being didn’t matter. Either way, she’d have to disinfect his wounds and close them, stop the bleeding for the time being until she could call him into a more well-equipped hospital. Backing up and walking back out of her kitchen, she made for her office, darting in to collect every tool she had that could potentially save this man’s life. Racing back, she found Connor pacing, eyeing the windows and the man, his eyes eagerly awaiting Sam to start her treatment.

  Pulling on a mouth and nose mask, Sam readied herself, spreading out her tools on a tin tray nearby, and putting on fresh gloves. Cracking her neck and fingers, Sam began to disinfect the man’s wounds, earning painful winces for her hard work. Connor came close to peer over her shoulder, but she nudged him back.

  Sam needed to focus, now more than ever. Once the wounds were clean, she made to stitch all the cuts closed. The work was tiring, draining Sam of nearly everything she had. More than once she needed Connor to turn him to inspect the damage done, allowing her time to collect her thoughts and rinse and repeat her process.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Sam finally sat back, pulling off her gloves and listening to the now steadier breathing of the man on her kitchen table.

  Connor came over a second later, thanking her. “Can I leave him in your care for the time being?” he asked. “I need to go tell someone about this. Please?”

  “Sure thing,” Sam said, smiling as she wiped sweat from her brow.

  Connor left moments later, leaving Sam to sit and watch the beat up man shallowly breath and sleep. His eyes darted underneath his eyelids, and soon Sam felt her eyelids drooping.

  Sleep came shortly after, with Sam dreaming about how a man could be so beaten up and somehow survive.↡¶

  Chapter Five

  Sam

  By the time Sam woke up next, daylight threatened to burn up her eyes. Rays of sun poured in through the three windows lining the wall opposite her, illuminating everything just as it had been like the day before. It was if she’d only fallen asleep for a few minutes.

  Her head pounded as Sam sat up, forcing her to clutch at it with one hand while she used the other to prop herself up from the slumped position she slept in. Normally Sam didn’t sleep in chairs; she guessed most people didn’t. Especially hard wooden chairs like the ones in her kitchen, though she supposed she’d been way too tired to even care the night before. Her back ached and pulsed as she stretched and turned this way and that, sleep still blurring her vision. Sam wiped at her eyelids, blinking as she yawned and stared straight ahead and out the windows at the illuminated forest beyond.

  What had she been doing the night before? She couldn’t quite picture whatever had happened. Fatigue had made her bone-weary, and every muscle within her contracted and tightened as she rose to her weak feet.

  Then she heard a moaning, a slight rumble from directly in front of her. Blinking wide-eyed, Sam’s gaze drifted down and came to rest on a man spread out on her table. Black and blue all over, with reddened, stitched-up cuts and gashes, the man looked like he had gone through a meat grinder, like a thousand blades had cut him up all at once. Sam stiffened, stepping back until she bumped into the counter. Who was that? Why was a beat up, grown man laying on her table? Had she stitched him up? Was he one of her patients?

  As Sam’s mind whirled from her still half asleep delirium, a memory popped back into her mind. Connor, calling her name just after she’d sent Megan home the previous night. Slowly but surely, the memories came back as her brain woke up, allowing her pounding heart to calm its rapid beating. Sighing as she remembered the sudden emotional and physical taxation of just barely saving a man she thought could have died, Sam stepped forward until she was right next to the table.

  Now that she thought about it, Sam had saved this man without getting a good look at him or knowing anything about him. Hadn’t Connor told her he’d gotten beat up by a rival gang or something?

  Looking him over, eyeing the wounds, she had been skeptical the day before, and still was now. Letting her finger drift gently over one of his smaller gashes, she refrained from touching the wound directly and but traced an oval around it. The tip of her finger sucked up the heat from the man’s body.

  It was then that Sam noticed how hard his stomach was, noticed the six pack that adorned his midsection. Even Dean wasn’t this well defined, she thought absently as her lips parted to release a breath as she continued to trace the lines of his body. He groaned beneath her touch, causing her to look up at his handsome face. Just above his stout neck was a face seemingly carved by a master sculptor. With his jawline concretely shaped and his cheekbones showing just enough to make her heart pound once again, albeit for a much steamier reason. The man’s extremely light brown hair, short and thick, was still caked with dirt. Since his eyes were closed, she couldn’t quite tell what color they were, though she could only expect a man as heavenly as this would have eyes to stop any woman dead in her tracks.

  While she mused over the man’s face, her single finger had become her entire hand as she continued to subconsciously touch his chest. His pecs rippled beneath her palm, giving way for another groan and a tremble as the man’s hands clenched and opened. His breathing became harder, more ragged, as he turned his head slowly from side to side, his eyes fluttering open.

  She realized quickly that he was waking up from the deep slumber he’d been in the night before and retracted her hand. What had his name been again? Sam racked her brain as the man’s eyes narrowly opened, hints of a golden tint beneath. Once they fully opened, she saw his eyes weren’t golden, but a more amber color, like the color of whiskey. While he took in his surroundings, groaning and looking all around while squinting under the sunlight, Sam stopped breathing. Now she was convinced that this man was almost too perfect, even with a cracked and puffy lip, and the ugly gash above his eyebrow, and the various other injuries that dotted his body.

  Suddenly, the man’s smooth eyes darted to her, locking with her own steely green eyes. They stared at each other, her looking down while he gazed deeply into hers.

  “Am I in heaven…?” he croaked suddenly, his voice weary and rough, just like she expected it to be. If his voice had been anything but strained, Sam would have thought he’d been superhuman, like Dean with his shifter abilities.

  His outburst caught Sam off guard, tickling her funny bone, and after a quiet half minute, she chuckled, relaxing the hunched shoulders she’d put on at the sound of his voice. “No, not quite. If this were heaven, I wouldn’t be so exhausted after saving you from the brink of death.”

  The man blinked, coughing as he tried to sit up, pushing up with his beefy hands. Sam moved to help him, though she knew he needed to lay back down and continue to rest. She tried to ignore the fact that he was completely naked for the time being, though it nagged at the back of her mind. “Easy, easy,” she said, supporting his broad back. Her eyes lingered on his skin, noting how tan it was. “You really should be laying down,” she said stoically, finding her doctor voice again. “You’ve been out cold since yesterday,” she added when he glanced at her a second time.

  Gasping as he straightened, looking down at his body and frowning at the words, he glanced at her, gritting his teeth. “You saved me?”

  “Your friend, Connor, brought you here,” she said, her confidence growing. “Brought you in, bleeding all over my tile floor, and I did the rest.” She thought back to that moment, realizing that the blood would need to be wiped up sooner rather than later. Thankfully, it was the weekend, meaning she’d be closed and no one else should have been coming along to witness the mess in her home.

  The man clutched at his chest, growling low. Cocking her head at his odd behavior, Sam reached around to feel his heart thumping beneath his chest. The act warmed her cheeks, but she justified her touching by reminding herself that she’s a doctor. After, she came around, careful to keep one hand on his back and the other che
cking his wrist with two fingers. The man eyed her suspiciously, but he remained quiet, though Sam was convinced that was because of how difficult it was for him to speak. Sighing in relief as she took her two fingers off, Sam smiled. “Your pulse isn’t too off course. I’m sure the small irregularity is your shock from waking up in my kitchen…”

  “You’re very touchy-feely, aren’t you?” he croaked, leaning forward too cough again. Sam ignored the comment, though her adrenaline raced, realizing what this could look like to an outsider.

  “I need to be,” Sam said, gently poking his various bruises to witness how he’d react. He winced slightly at each, though his jaw tightened with each poke; Sam was convinced he held back his cries of suffering. “I’m a doctor after all.”

  “Doctor Samantha Byrd?” he asked. She nodded, spying a wound opening up again. Fresh blood seeped through the small gash, and so Samantha let go of the man to snatch up gauze from her kitchen counter. Since she was still in the process of setting up her clinic, Sam had medical supplies pretty much everywhere. Coming back, she took hold of the man’s arm, beginning to wrap up his bicep.

  “And you’re name is Brendan, right?” she said, Connor’s brief mention coming back to her.

  “Right…” he said, almost as if he were in a haze. “So I guess I’m at your clinic then.”

  “You guess correct,” Sam said with a smile. “Connor said you’d gotten attacked by a rival gang.” She looked up to gather his thoughts, only to see him grimace, his nose twitching. “At first I didn’t believe it...these wounds were more akin to how a wolf would maul an unsuspecting picnicker. But this? If I had known there were gangs this brutal on the island, I might not have come to settle down here.”

  Brendan chuckled, his laughs mixing with ragged coughs, and spittle unintentionally flying from his lips. He brought his free hand up to wipe the saliva from his lips as he stared back at Sam. “Don’t worry, I don’t think the people who pummeled me to near death would ever harm someone like you...almost the entire island seems to be gossiping about the legendary new doctor that came to town last week.

  Sam blushed, glancing away as she finished wrapping his arm. “I’m not that amazing.”

  “If you brought me back from the dead, then you’re more than just amazing,” Brendan said, his small smile nearly sending her heart on a rollercoaster ride. She had to clear her throat and step away from him to calm herself. My god, calm yourself, Samantha Byrd, she thought, twirling a lock of her platinum hair between her fingers.

  She meant to respond to Brendan’s comment, opening her mouth and uttering a single syllable, but then her eyes brushed on the kitchen door jerking open. Just as it swung open, a familiar, energetic face popped inside.

  “Hey, Sam!” Megan called, gazing inside. “I know it’s the weekend, but I thought I’d bring you some sweet bread from my family’s bakery…” Her voice faltered as her gaze swung to the naked Brendan, who had tensed up at the sudden intrusion and now stared Megan down in anticipation of something Sam couldn’t fathom. Megan’s gaze fell to his lower body, blinking. “Oh my, you work quickly, Doctor Byrd.”

  “No! That isn’t what’s happening here!” Sam said, stepping forward to drag Megan into the hallway. Sam swiftly explained the situation, turning Megan’s sly smile into a more concerned frown. “It all happened in a blur,” Sam continued, eyeing her assistant. “Didn’t you see all the wounds on his body?”

  “That isn’t what I was looking at…” Megan cooed, giggling after Sam rubbed her brow. “Oh come on, it’s not every day you get to treat a man as handsome as him! Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.”

  “He was attacked by a gang, Megan,” Sam said, continuing to try and turn Megan’s mind from the gutter, though she was struggling with it herself. The more they talked, the more Sam pictured Brendan’s gorgeous, white-hot body. “It could be dangerous to be around him...especially if those gang members come back around to finish the job.”

  Megan shrugged. “Well, at least he could be some fun before that happens. Besides, that’s just an assumption.”

  “You have a dirtier mind than I thought…” Sam muttered, realizing she needed to grab the man some clothes. She’d need to get into contact with Connor maybe, or go into a store to buy the man some clothes. Shaking her head, she sighed. “Look, Megan, as long as you’re here can you watch him?” Megan grinned. “Emphasis on watch, Megan. Don’t get too ahead of yourself; he’s still recovering. I need to find him some clothes. There’s a blanket on my bed, so give that to him for the time being, and make him stay here and rest, okay?”

  Megan giggled once again and saluted Sam as if she were some army sergeant. “Yes, mam!”

  Rolling her eyes, Sam stepped around her assistant. “I’ll be back soon, so just be patient.”

  “Right.”

  As Sam ambled down the hallway and into her front living room, she spied the blood on the tile again, now dried and crusty. She’d have to clean up later, before the blood stained her tile floor for good. But first, she needed to help Brendan, and that meant clothing him. Sam wouldn’t be able to focus completely until she did.

  Grabbing her keys and purse, and slipping on her hiking boots, Sam slipped out the front door, wondering whether Brendan was single or not.↡¶

  Chapter Six

  Brendan

  Brendan had been cooped up for days now in Samantha Byrd’s home, healing from the wounds he sustained during Dean’s ambush just outside of Red Wing Town.

  Over and over, Brendan beat himself up for failing to recognize the danger, the high probability that Dean would leave him for dead the first chance he could. It angered him beyond belief, with Brendan’s anger even penetrating his dreams at night...when he got the chance to sleep.

  During the weekend, Brendan’s wounds had bothered him incessantly, stinging and pulsing and making his whole body woozy. The aches kept him from sleeping smoothly, even after Sam had Connor help him to her lone bed; Brendan awoke at least a dozen times every night, bolting up, his body bristling and mind on edge, gasping from the sudden spikes in pain during his quick jolt upwards. The nightmares he woke up from were spurred on by the pain, dreams of a huge, black-furred wolf cackling loudly as it loomed over Brendan, stomping on him with its massive feet while he grew smaller and smaller until he vanished; the dream recurred almost every single time, though with each iteration the wolf grew more detailed, deadlier. He shook after each new version, sweating and panting through the burning pain all over his body like he was being stabbed over and over. It was pathetic, he knew, but Brendan only had himself to blame.

  Samantha Byrd, who had been sleeping on her living room couch, would constantly rush in to check on him, like a mother making sure her child wasn’t being kidnapped. Her voice soothed his wild mind, calming the wrathful beast that threatened to take over each time he awoke gasping in the night. More than once he had realized he’d been growling at her while she came closer, only to find himself mesmerized by the beauty who had been taking care of him.

  During the days, Sam cooked for him and gave him regular doses of medicine to help with the pain. Other than that, she seemed to be trying to stay away from him, only coming in to double check he hadn’t gone insane, and that he hadn’t opened up more of his wounds. By Monday, Brendan found himself craving her presence, if only to calm his raging soul. But the gossip about Doctor Byrd had truly been spreading, and patients began to come in to get her help regularly. He never got to see her work, but the walls were thin, and so Brendan passed the time by listening to her speak with her patients, imagining how cool she probably looked as she stoically gave her diagnoses and distributed medications. As the days dragged on, and Brendan’s wounds began to close thanks to his accelerated healing, his thoughts drifted more and more to Samantha, picturing her lab coat clinging to her shapely hips and slender torso. He often pictured her neck-length platinum blonde hair tumbling over her steely olive eyes, her dainty fingers tracing his abs and pecs. His inner wol
f began to growl, for a variety of different reasons.

  Finally, while Sam’s assistant Megan chatted with him in Samantha’s bedroom while Sam finished up with her last patient of the day, he had a thought. Despite the doctor having obvious reservations about his reasons for coming under her care, she still saved his life, or at least made his recovery that much quicker. He needed to thank her, only now he didn’t know what kind of thank you would suffice for saving his life.

  “I swear, I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before!” Megan said, brushing her dirty blonde hair with both her hands. “Like, where did you even come from?”

  “My friend Connor brought me in after finding me unconscious on the ground,” Brendan said, eyeing the bedroom door, waiting for Sam to reappear. Her voice penetrated the walls, speaking to whomever was being treated.

  “But how come I haven't seen you around Red Wing Town?” Megan continued, sitting on the edge of her seat and smiling slyly. “I’m sure I would have noticed a hunk like you before now, and I’ve been living here my whole life.”

  “Hmm…” Brendan grunted, briefly forgetting about the young woman sitting by the side of his bed. “Do you know Samantha well?”

  Megan blinked and shrugged, her smile fading to a thinner strip. “I’ve known her ever since she hired me last week, so I don’t know a whole lot...though it makes sense you’d be interested in her.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Man, I can’t tell whether I should be happy for her or just plain jealous. Honestly!”

  Brendan eyed her, pulling at his shirt’s collar. The clothes Sam had brought back to him were a little tight, but he still appreciated the thought. He could blame Connor for the tight clothes, as Samantha borrowed some from him. “Sorry...I just meant to thank her, is all. I’m sure I’m the worst case she’s had so far on this island, and she barely batted an eye before she began to help me. I just know practically nothing about her, except for the fact she’s good at what she does.”