The Wolf Princess: The Wolf PrincessOne Eye Open (The Pack)

by Karen Whiddon

  “You’re not?” she managed, looking from her mother to her father and back again. “Then why are you…?”

  “As your mother mentioned, I am—was—a neurosurgeon,” the doctor said. “I don’t believe there is anything wrong with your brain, not at all. But I do believe that there is something different in you, something that enables you to do this thing that no one else can.”

  Alisa picked up on a single word. The was. “You were a neurosurgeon, you said. But you’re not now?”

  “No.” A man of few words, this doctor.

  “Dr. Streib no longer performs surgery,” her father said, before she could ask the doctor to elaborate. “Even though he no longer operates, he’s the foremost Pack expert in research that may someday enable all shifters to do as you do—to go longer periods of time in human form without going mad.”

  “Research. Interesting.” She frowned, even though her mother kept reminding her a smile made her look prettier. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath, not sure she liked the direction this conversation appeared to be heading.

  Though she suspected she knew the answer, she had to ask anyway. “That’s nice, but what does that have to do with me? Don’t tell me he wants to study my brain.”

  Though she said the last as a joke, no one laughed. Instead, both her parents continued to regard her intently.

  “That is exactly what he wants to do,” King Leo said. “And more.”

  “More?” she said faintly, looking at her mother for help. The queen’s serious expression told her she couldn’t expect assistance from that quarter.

  “Dr. Streib has been given copies of your blood work. He also has requested both blood and tissue samples.”

  Eyes gleaming, King Leo practically rubbed his hands together. “We’ve had numerous conversations on the phone. Throughout Pack history, there have only been a few documented cases of shifters who could do as you do.”

  Great. Briefly she closed her eyes. Yet another well-intentioned reminder of how different she was.

  “Dr. Streib seems to feel your brain might hold the key. You, my dear daughter, might have the answer that could help millions of our kind.”

  Horror growing, she stared at her sire. “But—”

  Expression regal, he held up his hand to stave off her interruption. “I haven’t finished. This is an honor, both to our country and to our family name. If by studying you, he can determine how you do what you do, your name will go down in history.”

  “Studying me?” she asked faintly.

  “Yes. Dr. Streib has requested permission to do some tests, none of which, he’s assured me, are harmful to you in the slightest.”

  “Tests?” Appalled and ashamed, she jumped to her feet. “I don’t believe this. Why would you even consider such a thing?”

  “Because without tests, he can’t determine if his theory is correct.”

  “These are non-invasive tests,” Dr. Streib hastened to reassure her, his voice still rolling over her like whiskey and honey. “I will not be cutting into you.”

  “I should hope not.” Both furious and hurt, she shook her head at him before turning to glare at her parents. “Am I hearing this right? You want me to be this man’s guinea pig?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Queen Ionna began.

  “No? How would you put it, then? This is unbelievable. What’s next? Are we filming a reality show about life with the royals?” Snatching up her glass of wine, she took a long, deep drink.

  “Now, Alisa. There’s no need to be ridiculous.”

  Alisa nearly choked on her wine. “You find me ridiculous? Me? That’s rich. I refuse to let this man experiment on me. I want you to tell him to leave.”

  Before either of her parents could speak, Dr. Streib pushed back his chair and stood, facing her. He was a very tall man, lean and lanky, wearing his rumpled clothing as though at home in his own body.

  “Princess Alisa, I think you should reconsider. You could help lots of other shifters—hundreds of thousands of them, if not more—if you help us to find the secret to what you do.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that such a thing cannot be replicated?” she said. “You’re a doctor. More than a doctor. A neurosurgeon. Surely in your years of practice, you’ve come across things that cannot be explained. I believe my ability is like that. It just is. No amount of testing or studying is going to change that.”

  “Stop being so selfish,” he said, his sensual mouth curling. He delivered this in such a smooth, even tone that it took her a second to realize she’d been insulted.

  Then, while she was still gaping at his most recent rudeness, her father stood also, his expression thunderous.

  “Enough. Alisa, you will be helping Dr. Streib.” King Leo sounded cool, since he knew full well if he ordered her to do something, it would be so.

  “And, once he has formed a conclusion,” her father continued, “if he is able to make some sort of drug to enable others to do what you do so effortlessly, Dr. Streib has generously agreed to allow the manufacturing plant to be based in Teslinko.”

  His stern gaze pinned her. “I know I don’t need to tell you what a boon this will be for both our economy and our people.”

  And there he had her. If she refused—which, as the youngest female child and the second most spoiled after her younger brother Ruben, she still could, even though it’d mean a lengthy fight—she’d come out the bad guy.

  And even then, there was a definite chance she’d probably still lose, as strange as they were acting. It didn’t help that her parents knew she was just as passionate about their people and their country as they were.

  Defeated, she swallowed, forcing herself to think rationally. An opportunity such as this was too good to pass up, no matter the personal cost.

  Besides, running a few tests shouldn’t take too awfully long. Dr. Streib would be merely a momentary annoyance, that’s all. But still…

  “Let me see if I have this right,” she said slowly, eyeing her father. “You want me to be this man’s experimental lab rat in exchange for a possible promised factory? Even though there’s a distinct possibility that he may never find the secret and even be able to make the medicine he’s aiming for?”

  Both King Leo and Queen Ionna looked at the doctor.

  Instead of responding, Dr. Streib continued to watch her, the blasted dark glasses still hiding his eyes.

  “Fine.” Alisa exhaled when it seemed no one else would comment. “How long is this going to take?”

  “Not forever,” her father hastened to reassure her. “I’ve put a time limitation on this.”

  “How long?”

  “He has one month, no more. If after two fortnights he doesn’t have his answer, he will have to go back to the United States empty-handed.”

  Now would have been the time to chime in, but still Dr. Streib remained silent, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. Her resentment toward those soulless dark glasses of his increased by the minute.

  “If he fails and, as I’ve said all along, discovers that I am perfectly normal in every way, what then?” she asked. “How will we be compensated for my time?”

  Now Dr. Streib chose to interject. Now, when she’d been talking to her parents rather than him. “What will you get out of it? You’ll have been given a chance to help your people. You’ll know you gave it your best shot.”

  Again, one corner of his well-shaped mouth twisted in what could have been either the beginnings of a smile or of a sneer. “What more can a royal princess ask for?”

  Biting back her immediate surge of anger at his sarcasm, she made her tone icy. “Actually, I wasn’t asking you. I was speaking to my father.”

  If she’d expected him to feel intimidated, she was wrong. Instead, he tilted his head and eyed her the way he might have studied a small, poisonous insect before crushing it under the heel of his boot.

  “Are you really going to continue these objections?” he asked. “While you
are a princess, you aren’t even the next in line for the throne. Your time isn’t all that valuable.”

  Stifling a gasp, she eyed her mother and father, noted that they were watching with amusement plain on their aristocratic faces, and felt a flush of shame.

  Shame? Really? Swallowing, she lifted her chin. She, who prided herself on her sharp intellect and emotionless demeanor, would not lose her cool. She hadn’t since she’d been thirteen. Now twenty-four, she took a sort of grim pleasure in her reputation as the princess who got the brains rather than the beauty.

  “For the last time, this is a private matter between my family and me,” she said evenly. “Please, stay out of it. And,” she added for good measure, “why don’t you take those sunglasses off? There’s no need to wear them inside the palace. The light is not even all that bright, especially in this room.”

  Staring hard at him, daring him, she ignored her mother’s wordless sound of dismay and her father’s muffled protest. Instead, she continued to watch the doctor, curious as to how he would react.

  “Take the sunglasses off,” she repeated, waiting, watching as his hand came up and he slowly, finally removed the dark glasses.

  The instant he did, her world shifted on its axis as she realized she’d been more than insensitive.

  First, the sunglasses weren’t a fashion statement or an attempt to be cool or rude or any of the things she’d initially suspected.

  Dr. Streib was blind. He’d been covering up his beautiful, sightless eyes.

  Yet he was Pack. She could see his aura. How could he be blind? This wouldn’t be possible if he was a full-blooded shifter. Full shifters healed rapidly from any injury except fire and iron.

  Which meant he had to be Halfling, part human. They did not always heal from their injuries so easily.

  Still, with all his resources, why hadn’t he sought the help of a healer? She’d heard one existed in the United States, living in Texas. The woman, Samantha something-or-other, had been hailed as a miracle when her remarkable abilities to heal Halflings had been discovered.

  But his blindness and his Halfling status weren’t the only things she recognized now that she could get a good look at his face. Oh, no. The man standing before her with barely curbed impatience twisting the corner of his sensual mouth was someone she’d been waiting to meet most of her life.

  Her mate. The One.

  That is, she reined her thoughts in, if she actually believed in such things. Which she didn’t. The concept of true mates was nothing but romantic nonsense.

  Still, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder.

  When she’d been a teenager with raging hormones, devouring two or three romance novels a week, she’d often imagined her type. She’d firmly believed he was out there somewhere, waiting for her. Waiting to complete her.

  This man, this Dr. Streib, with his dark, craggy features and ancient, sightless eyes, wasn’t remotely what she’d pictured or even what she found herself attracted to. Yet, as improbable as it might be, she felt an instant, senseless certainty that he was The One. The only One.

  Of course, she immediately discounted that, preferring to consider those few seconds as a bit of romantic foolishness left over from her teenage years. One last shred of the silly adolescent she’d been, rising from the depths one last time, only to be ruthlessly quashed, never to appear again.

  Dr. Streib, she told herself, was nothing to her. Nor would he ever be. She’d suffer through his ridiculous tests, let him pretend he had the slightest chance of learning the answer, and then send him home with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

  As far as she was concerned, the day couldn’t come fast enough.

  The sooner she got rid of him the better.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Her Royal Highness Princess Alisa of Teslinko opened her mouth, Dr. Braden Streib knew he was in Trouble with a capital T. Because his wolf reacted strongly to her voice.

  Strongly being the understatement of the year. Throughout his thirty-eight years, he’d periodically fought with his lupine half. Everyone did. When the wolf wanted out, he wanted out. The place or time didn’t matter to the beast. Most times, subduing the urge to change was a simple matter, using a light touch and a firm resolve.

  Not so, this time. This time, his wolf fought like a caged, wild thing driven mad by a long captivity.

  At first stunned, Braden successfully battled the beast back into submission, trying to understand what had just happened.

  For some reason, whether from the sound of her voice or her intriguing, feminine scent, Princess Alisa affected his wolf, intensifying his urge to shape-shift.

  This made absolutely no sense. Braden had no scientific rationale on which to base this supposition. Yet simply being in the same room with her resulted in an epic battle between his human and wolf natures.

  Something about her mere presence in his proximity spoke to him on a subconscious level. Something primal, compelling. And completely without reason. The scientific part of him abhorred such illogic.

  But the part of him that was wolf didn’t care about reason, or logic, or even common sense. The wolf inside him reacted simply to external stimuli, which in this case was her. Princess Alisa was, for some unknown reason, the catalyst. His wolf reacted to her with a violent certainty.

  Making him at war with himself.

  Not good, especially since his first impression of her wasn’t a good one. The woman was stubborn and arrogant. He could hear it in the impatient, irritated tone she used.

  Of course, he supposed that was to be expected. She was royalty, after all, not used to mingling with common mortals like himself. Presented with an opportunity to do something that might help not only her own country but shifters around the world, she’d balked. No doubt she planned on sulking like a spoiled child and making things as difficult as possible when they worked together, hoping to shorten the amount of time he would require her.

  Her ploy wouldn’t work. He’d tough it out. He might not like her, but he had no choice. If he could have chosen another subject to use in his research, he definitely would have.

  But her kind was rare. In fact, she was the only one he’d heard of who could go so long without changing and continue to exhibit no outward signs of madness. So he would have to use her, whether he or she liked it or not. Life wasn’t always a bowl of cherries, something that had been proven to him over and over.

  She’d imperiously demanded he remove his dark glasses. He’d complied. After he’d done so, he waited for whatever pithy comment she’d come up with.

  He heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated she’d only just realized the extent of her rudeness. Waiting for the inevitable apology felt a bit anticlimactic, so he decided to head her off at the pass.

  “Now, about the experiments… I was thinking four hours in the morning before lunch, then if you can spare the time, another two hours in the afternoon. Will that work for you?”

  His rapid change of subject worked as a distraction. She sputtered, whatever half-hearted apology she’d been about to utter forgotten. “Six hours a day? That’s impossible. I have way too much to do to be able to agree to that large a block of time. I was thinking more along the line of an hour a day.” Her tone made it clear she thought she was being generous.

  Braden bit back a retort. He couldn’t help but wonder if the king and queen enjoyed watching them spar the way spectators did at a tennis match. Whatever they were doing, they were awfully quiet. He didn’t like quiet people—silence made it difficult for him to visualize them.

  “Dr. Streib?” The princess touched his hand, sending an odd frisson of electricity through him. “Are you listening to me? I cannot possibly work with you for more than an hour—or two at most—a day.”

  “Ah, so we’re going to barter for time?” Facing in her direction, eyebrows raised, he gave her a look plainly meant to tell her what he thought of her. To strengthen the effect, he left his sunglasses lying on th
e table in front of him, right next to the bowl of what smelled like fresh salad that the servers had just placed in front of him.

  When she didn’t immediately respond, King Leo cleared his throat. “I think we’ve had enough discussion for now. Let’s enjoy our lunch, shall we? And then surely you two can work something out afterward.”

  The reply Princess Alisa made to her father’s barely veiled command was unintelligible. Braden hid a smile as he fumbled for his fork, glad he finally would get to eat something more substantial than the dry breakfast bar he’d taken from the meager supply of snacks he’d packed for the trip. Across from him and next to him, he heard the clink of silverware on china as everyone began to eat.

  Funny, how he pictured this place and these people. Judging from his booming voice and jovial tone, King Leo would be a robust man, with a full head of wavy hair and maybe even a short beard. Queen Ionna would be blonde and tiny and petite, with the kind of regal beauty found only in the movies.

  While Princess Alisa… He puzzled briefly over her. No doubt she resembled a Barbie doll, all curves and plastic perfection.

  Still pondering the images, he turned his attention to the meal. The salad was fresh and crisp, the dressing delicious, melting on his tongue. He barely got to enjoy the amazing explosion of subtle flavors before he finished the last bit of watercress and the servers began whisking away the bowls. Hurriedly, he put his fork down and instantly, someone removed his empty bowl. A second later, someone else placed another plate in front of him.

  The next course, some kind of baked fish and evidently the main luncheon, smelled so good his mouth watered. He didn’t want to continue stuffing his face like a cretin, so he let himself savor the smell. “What kind of fish is this?” he asked politely.

  “This is nase, one of our native fish and our chef’s specialty,” Queen Ionna said softly. “It’s a particular favorite in our country. I hope you like it.”