Awakened By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis

his foot and up to his hip, the pain would cripple him.

      Hoping Cassie’s scent would relax him, Brice closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Although she crouched less than two yards away, her magic failed, or at least malfunctioned, because his nose caught wind of a faint, nasty odor.

      He blew quick puffs of air through his nostrils to clear the smell. Instead of this ridding him of the stink, a putrid pungency assaulted his senses. The sensation of scurrying spiders rose in Brice’s chest, and he slapped both hands over his mouth to keep from chucking up cherry pie.

      “Stop making that noise,” Cassie hissed. “He’ll hear you.”

      If the severe nausea that plagued him after the attack returned, he’d go stark, raving rabid. Nothing—not Dramamine or Compazine or Phenergan or Antivert or a whole slew of other drugs—had controlled the queasiness.

      “He’s going inside.” Cassie rose to her feet.

      Brice grabbed her around the middle, and they toppled into the mulch.

      “What the heck are you doing?” She elbowed his chest.

      Dizzy and sweaty, Brice buried his face in her hair. “I need to smell you before I puke.”

      The argument he expected never came. She allowed him to smell at will.

      “That’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Does that line work on wolfy women?” Cassie wiggled beneath his weight.

      “I don’t know. I’ve never said it to a she-wolf.” Brice relaxed in the comfort of Cassie’s scent.

      “Jeez, aren’t I special.”

      “Yeah, you are. Before I met you, I couldn’t smell a damn thing. Now I smell you and that Dumpster over there.” He eased away from Cassie before her essence lulled him into believing the mating urge wasn’t a fluke after all.

      “How flattering.” Her soft-looking lips curling into an unpleasant frown, Cassie dusted wood chips from her clothes.

      “Cas, your scent reminds me of a beautiful meadow of wildflowers.” And he loved her scent as much as he loved the rich, buttery flora that bloomed midspring beneath the full sun at a hollow within the wolf sanctuary.

      After a few tense moments, Cassie’s mouth softened into a timid smile. “Thank you.”

      Oh, no. She gave him the look. The one that hooked him with her modesty and reeled him in with her sincerity. His insides went all gooey, and that had never happened. If they’d met before his life had spiraled into chaos, maybe...just maybe.

      Brice cleared the frustration from his craw. He had only one path now. A path a mate couldn’t follow.

      Cassie raced up the steps and jerked the emergency door handle. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

      “Is the alarm busted?” Brice slipped past her.

      “I think someone disabled it a long time ago.”

      “You think?”

      Ignoring what he believed must be his most incredulous look, Cassie shoved him into the laundry room, where ample uniforms stocked the shelves.

      Owned and operated by the Walker’s Run Cooperative, Maico General not only provided state-of-the-art medical services to the town’s human residents but also maintained a private ward for sick or injured pack members. If uniforms or linens stained with wolfan DNA ended up in the wrong hands, well, the fallout would be disastrous.

      The Woelfesenat, the international wolf council governing the Wahya populace, had made significant political strides in recent years. Although some governments had acknowledged the wolfan population in secret negotiations, Brice knew revelations to the public-at-large would be a long time coming.

      “Put that on.” Cassie pointed at a white lab coat.

      “Something tells me that you’ve done this before.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves.

      “When my mom got sick, I had to work after school to help pay the bills. Visiting hours were over before I could get here, so I’d sneak in.” Cassie yanked a pair of yellow scrubs over her clothes.

      “Did she get better?”

      “Nope.” Cassie handed him a green surgical cap.

      “I’m sorry, Cas.” Brice wanted to pause a moment to let her know his sympathies were sincere, and it tweaked him that Cassie seemed indifferent to them.

      “Act normal and don’t make eye contact.” She cracked open the door. “Most people will only see the uniform unless you give them a reason to notice. Count to thirty before you follow me.”

      Brice’s stomach lunged. “Wait!” Pinning Cassie against the industrial dryer, he nuzzled her with abandon. His entire body sparked from her tantalizing scent and the soft suppleness of her skin.

      “Hey, what happened outside was sweet, if not a little awkward,” she said. “But this is getting creepy.”

      “You’ll get used to it.” Brice couldn’t stop his grin.

      “Holster your nose, Benji, before someone catches us.” The fire in Cassie’s cinnamon eyes counteracted her unamused frown.

      “Oh, that hurts, Cas. Calling me a scruffy little dog when you’ve seen how big my wolf is.”

      She flicked him a whatever wave and left. Brice counted to eight before the impulse to follow her won out. He stayed far enough behind so it didn’t appear they were together.

      Cassie confidently navigated the corridors. The determination in her steps, the no-nonsense sway of her hips, the steel in her spine—all of it was a pretense to conceal her tender heart. Beneath the bravado, this woman was far more delicate than she looked, and she looked fragile enough that a gust of wind might blow her to smithereens.

      The human ward clerk looked up from her computer. Brice slowed his pace, lowered his head and sharpened his senses.

      The woman squinted her eyes and lips at Cassie. “Are you the loaner from Chatuge Regional filling in for Rita?”

      Cassie veered toward the station. “Is she the ER nurse who broke her ankle?”

      The ward clerk’s broad, snaggletoothed grin plumped her cheeks. “Yeah, the old biddy should’ve had more sense than to skateboard at her age.”

      Brice shook his head. One of the blessings and pains of small-town living was that everyone knew everybody’s business to some degree. Miracles or pure luck had helped the Wahyas of Walker’s Run avoid discovery.

      Then again, Brice suspected some of the pack’s longtime neighbors knew of their duality and kept their secret out of loyalty and respect. Such as Cybil’s owner, Mary-Jane McAllister.

      She lived on the fringe of the co-op’s wolf sanctuary, a large area of protected forest where the pack roamed. High electric fences ensured human interlopers with cameras and shotguns stayed out, while sentinels patrolled the territory to ward off rogues.

      Unfortunately, even the best security measures sometimes failed.

       Chapter 7

      Brice hurried down the hall and slipped inside his grandmother’s room. A woman lay motionless on the bed. Wires peeked out from the neckline of her gown, and IV tubes sprouted from her arms. The faint line of an oxygen tube rested beneath her nose. The old lady appeared so feeble that she couldn’t possibly be his grandmother. He backed up, hoping not to disturb her.

      “Is someone there?” The woman’s weak voice stopped him.

      Brice’s mouth went dry, and his body felt as if it had been packed with sand. “It’s me, Granny.” He scratched his throat, though the itch seemed to spring from his voice rather than his skin.

      “Oh,