Desired by Wolves [Call of the Wolf 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Diane Leyne

  He realized that he had another panic attack coming on and fought to push it back down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then another. He jumped when he felt something brush against his lower leg, but it was just Otis. Gratefully he leaned down carefully and picked the little guy up and held him to his chest.

  In a few minutes he was calmer. He decided to take the chair at the head of the table because it was practical. He pulled it out and then hesitated. It wasn’t polite to sit before the head of the house. He looked up and saw Lena watching him, her expression enigmatic. She must have recognized his dilemma because she motioned for him to sit.

  * * * *

  Lena felt the alarm growing inside her as she watched the fear and panic rush across Alex’s features as he tried to figure out where to sit, first in the hallway and then the kitchen. She was a vet, not a people doctor, but she could recognize an incipient panic attack. And apparently so could Otis, whose appearance seemed to calm Alex down.

  When Alex sat, he carefully placed Otis on the floor beside him and then adjusted the towel to try to hide his erection. He looked down at the table so she couldn’t see his eyes, but Lena could feel the tension gradually seeping back into his body in the set of his shoulders and his constantly drumming fingers. She saw him follow her glance to his hands, and then he clasped them tight, dropped them into his lap, covering his erection, and waited.

  “Open the towel on the left. You can keep it covering your lap, and you can continue to hold Otis if you like. I’m going to get my bag.”

  She strode out of the kitchen, not waiting to see if he complied with her instructions and not wanting to see him struggle with repositioning the towel. She discovered that, as mad as she was, she didn’t want to see him humiliated. She still wanted revenge for running out not just on his future with her, but his brothers’ future as well, but that would have to wait. First and foremost, she was a healer, and he was in serious pain.

  She took her time returning. She had a small medical bag not unlike that which “human” doctors carried. As many of her patients were shape-shifters, she had taken a number of human-oriented biology and medical courses. Shape-shifters, when shifted, healed much more quickly and thoroughly than humans. The problem was, often they were in human form when they were treated. This was fine when they were dealing with illness, but when it came to an injury, she had to understand both human and wolf-dog physiology. Setting a bone when they were in human form, for example, was fine. However, if the damage was extensive, any repairs one made with pins or screws had to be done very carefully so they wouldn’t cause pain or damage when the patient shifted.

  She was in touch with a very small network of doctors and vets around the country, and they exchanged information online regularly about how to treat problems with shifters.

  The current generally accepted practice for broken bones was to try to set them in shifted form and give them a chance to heal. With the shifter’s superior healing ability, sometimes they could avoid pins and plates altogether. If they couldn’t, then there was a single orthopaedic specialist based in Texas who could be called in to figure out the best arrangement so that both man and shifter could heal correctly.

  There was no way that the US government or army had any such expert on their staff, and she was almost more afraid to see what damage they’d done as she was to survey the original injury.

  “What happened?”

  “IED.”

  “Afghanistan?”

  “Rather not say.”

  She looked at his averted gaze. He hadn’t turned his head since she walked back into the room. He just clutched Otis to him and stroked the little dog’s back. She decided not to push for an answer. Location wasn’t really important.

  “But this happened while you were overseas.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were a Ranger?”

  “For a while.”

  Damn, it was like pulling teeth, but she didn’t have the heart to push right now. He was trembling. She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn’t say anything. She found herself stroking his shoulder much the way she used to stroke Otis when he was in pain and afraid. Eventually, she felt some of the tension seep out of Alex.

  She looked at his shoulders and back as she soothed him. She could see some fine white lines marking much of his back. She had to stop herself from tracing the scars. These weren’t from some IED. He’d been whipped. That was the only explanation she could come up with.

  Oh my poor Alex, what happened to you over there?

  “I’m going to kneel down and look at your hip now,” she stated softly. She waited until he nodded, and then she got down in her knees. She could see the angry scars from the IED quite clearly. There was a big one across his side, but it didn’t seem very deep. Then she moved down his side and could see where they’d some major repair work on his hip and upper thigh. It was clear that some major damage had been done, but it didn’t explain the limp.

  And then she saw the surgical scar. It was about six inches long, and she almost didn’t see it because it was beside the bomb scar. The surgeon had done a great job with the stitching. But she needed a better look.

  “I need you to go lie on the couch on your right side so I can examine you better.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She could hear the impatience in his voice. For a second, he sounded like the old Alex, decisive and annoyed by her demands, and then he flinched as if he expected to get hit, that brief moment of defiance gone.

  “Go. Now,” she ordered, and immediately regretted her harsh tone as she watched how his shoulders slumped again as he levered himself up from the chair, Otis in one hand and the other bracing himself. Naturally, the towel fell, and she was treated to another look at his now-deflated cock. It was still magnificent. And it still worked. As if aware of her gaze, it started to harden again, and Alex made an inarticulate noise and turned away from her, trying to balance himself and Otis and pick up the towel at the same time. He almost fell, but she knew better than to help him.

  “Forget the towel. I’ve seen you naked before. Just go into the living room and lie on your side. I have to go upstairs and get something. I’ll be back in ten minutes, and I’ll expect to find you ready for my exam.”

  She hurried out of the room and upstairs before she burst into tears. Her beautiful Alpha. She didn’t care about his scars. Those were superficial. But somehow those bastards had broken his spirit. He was just a shell of the old Alex except for that one brief comment. She sobbed. All of her anger seemed so irrelevant now. He could have died.

  She gave herself five minutes of loss of control and then pulled herself together. She went into the bathroom and washed her face and fixed her hair and headed down the stairs.

  Chapter Six

  Alex felt his face grow hot from the humiliation of the dropped towel. He couldn’t even stand up without embarrassing himself these days. And his brothers wondered why he didn’t want to see anyone. Alex James had had a golden childhood. He was a star athlete and an honor student and voted most likely to succeed. He was valedictorian and class president and captain of the fucking football team. He was it.

  Then he went away to university and got a degree in business and graduated Summa Cum Laude. Then he went to war and had a chest full of medals and a bum leg to show for it. Now he couldn’t stand without aid, he jumped at loud noises, and he found himself unable to deal with harsh voices without having immediately going into submissive mode so he wouldn’t be beaten.

  He was okay at home and mostly could hide these things from his brothers because he did feel safe in their home, but even there he tended to keep to himself. It was far worse when he went out when he could feel the panic inside him rising at the slightest sound.

  It was like he only ever felt really calm these days with Otis. The little guy looked up and licked his face. Alex found himself smiling and blinking back the tears. He set Otis down on the floor while he b
raced one hand on the seat and bent to pick up the towel. No matter what Lena said, he wasn’t going to lie completely naked on her couch.

  “Come on, boy. Come on over to the couch.” Carefully he made his way over to the living room, pausing momentarily in the hallway. He could open the door and shift and be on his way home before she knew it. He was so tempted, but then he realized he really had no place to go but his brothers’ house, and Lena would just head over there, blazingly angry with him, and he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t deal with negative emotions any more. He used to love nothing more than a blazingly good argument which would then lead to blazingly good sex, and Lena could give as good as she got. Now when he heard a voice raised in anger, he could feel the fear coursing through his body and the need to placate the speaker would overwhelm him. The bastards had well and truly broken him, and he didn’t know how to heal.

  He had tried talking to the VA shrinks, but they were overwhelmed with all the men who had come home with body parts missing or who could really not cope with life back stateside. He was relatively together and in more or less one piece, so he was low on the priority list. He got an assessment session but was on a waitlist for anything more, so that was that. He had come home to lick his wounds. He’d known that she moved back, but he figured he could avoid her. That was why he went to Lupo’s on the night of the full moon. Will and Joe assured him that she avoided them during full moons. He wasn’t sure he could deal with the crowds at Lupo’s, but he knew he couldn’t hide forever and thought that having a drink at his brothers’ bar was as good a way as any to announce his return.

  And then he’d seen her and had practically run from the place. He looked again at the door and then sighed.

  “Come on, boy. Lena wants me on the couch.” He limped over and carefully spread the towel so that half of it was on the middle cushion where his butt would be and half lay across the back of the couch. Once he eased himself down facing the back of the couch, he pulled the towel off and covered himself, even if only temporarily.

  He heard Otis whining and rolled onto his back. Reaching down, he scooped the little dog up and then rolled back, adjusting his body so there was room for Otis between his chest and the couch. Otis licked his face, washing away his tears of humiliation and fear as he admitted to himself for the first time that he’d always held out a faint hope that someday he’d get back with Lena, but after today, he knew that he’d lost his chance with her forever. She’d seen him for what he was now, not just crippled physically but emotionally.

  He hugged Otis close and waited.

  * * * *

  Lena paused on the top of the stairs. She saw Alex move his hand as if to wipe away tears. She gave him a moment to compose himself, and then she started walking heavily down the stairs. She saw him tilt his body toward the back of the couch and bury his face in the cushions. He body position was slightly curved to give Otis some room.

  By the time she was over at the couch, she had her best professional expression pasted to her face. She repositioned her two floor lamps so that they shone directly on Alex’s hip. She could see Otis sitting up, his two front paws on Alex’s side, watching her. She leaned down and gave Otis a rub on the head. He licked her hand and then curled up beside Alex again.

  Then she sat down on the coffee table and placed her bag beside her.

  “Try to relax, Alex. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He didn’t answer. He just shrugged his shoulders and tensed up.

  She ran her hand down from his shoulder down his back until she reached his hip, and then she repeated the motion like he was a terrified puppy she was trying to examine. She repeated the gesture a few more times and felt him start to relax. She had to stop herself from leaning down and kissing the nape of his neck and pressing her body against his back as if she could absorb some of his pain. It broke her heart to see him like this.

  She figured the best thing she could do for him was to work quickly. She flipped the towel back, and he tensed again. She sighed impatiently and barked out, “Alex,” and he started to shake. She got off the coffee table and knelt beside the couch, pressing her face against his neck and her torso against his back.

  “Shhhhh, Alex. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  “I should go.”

  His words surprised her, and so she was caught off guard when he tried to rise. She reacted instinctively, rising and wrapping her arms around him, moving to sit beside him on the couch while she cradled his body in her arms.

  Holding him tight, she found herself rocking him as she kissed his shoulders and tried to sooth him. Otis yelped and hopped off the couch, taking up a position beside it, watching the humans intently.

  “Please, let me go. I can’t stand you seeing me like this.” His voice had an edge of desperation, almost hysteria, and he tried to pull from her arms, but she just held him tighter as he turned his body and tried to swing his legs off the couch. “Please.” He’d started to cry again, and her heart broke for him.

  She pulled back and looked at him. In a flash, she knew what he was going to do.

  “If you shift now, I’m locking that fucking door and you are not getting out, do you hear me.”

  “But I’m in less pain in wolf form.” His voice was quiet, tentative.

  “And I’m trying to figure out how to ensure you have less pain in human form, but you have to let me look at your wounds.”

  “The doctors at the VA couldn’t help me.” His voice wasn’t bitter, just resigned and accepting. He’d clearly given up.

  “And just how much experience do they have with shifters?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “How much?” She let her voice have a demanding edge that she knew now he would respond to.

  “None,” he admitted.

  “Then why won’t you let me help you?”

  “Because if you say that there’s no hope, then it’s all over. I’ll be nothing but a physical and emotional cripple who’s a drain on everyone. Everyone would have been better off if I’d never come back.” He buried his hands in his face again, his shoulders heaving with dry sobs.

  If he’d been angry or bitter, she might have reacted differently, but his tone was so defeated that she reacted without thinking.

  “Alex, Alex. Look at me!” she demanded.

  When he looked up, she pulled back her right hand and slapped him hard across the face.

  “You selfish son of a bitch.” She moved to slap him again, but he grabbed her hand this time before it landed. She hadn’t seen him move that fast in the last hour, and looking at his face, it was clear that he was now blazingly angry as he gripped her wrist.

  “That’s it. Get mad,” she encouraged. “Fight, god damn it. No more pity party.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged her wrist and pulled her up against him, his mouth coming down hard on hers. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and before long, their mouths were open and tongues were dueling and it was like the years had fallen away.

  It was Otis who brought her to her senses as he started running and yapping. She pulled back and wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when Alex let her go without a fight. She stood up and backed away from the couch.

  “Now lie back down on your side and let me examine you. It’s already later afternoon. You need to be gone before the sun sets.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on attacking you in a sexual frenzy. It's not like it is a full moon or anything.”

  “Excuse me if I prefer not to take chances. Now assume the position.”

  She could see the effect her words had on him. It couldn’t have been the banter. His face had actually lightened, and he’d almost been teasing her, but there was something about her last few words, “assume the position,” that had caused a change in him that broke her heart.

  His shoulder had hunched again, and he’d shrunk back from her almost in fear. She watched him take a coup
le of deep breaths and then move to lie back down on the couch, his back to her. She had to stop herself from gasping as she got a better look at those white marks on his back. He’d clearly been whipped, probably more than once to have so many scars. She was almost afraid to find out what else had happened to him.

  Carefully, she peeled back the towel. She had to stop for a second when she realized that her hand was shaking with fear as to what she would see.

  In some ways it wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined. The VA doctors had done a good job. It was clear that some of the scars were from the IED explosion, but there was more than that. She could see a surgery scar on his thigh. She ran her hand lightly over it and felt him tense, so she moved quickly, feeling the muscles in his leg and hip.

  As far as she could tell, she wasn’t hurting him, so the problem had to be under the skin and muscle.

  “Did you have any broken bones?”

  “Yes, one of my thigh bones.” He voice was muffled like he had a pillow pressed against his face. “The doctors put in some screws. They said if that didn’t take, they might have to go back in and use a plate. Worst case would be amputation.”

  “When did they do this? The scar seems to have healed well.”

  “Maybe five or six weeks ago. I’ve spent a lot of time shifted since then so it would heal faster.”

  “When is your next check-up?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, she knew the answer.

  “You aren’t planning on going back, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “They are not cutting off my leg.”

  “Don’t you think there’d be less chance of that happening if you let them treat you?”

  “It’s healing. You’ve seen me walk on it.”

  “Barely.”

  “I move pretty good when I’m shifted.”

  “Good is relative. You limp just as much as Otis here.”