by Tara West
Unable to watch Amara and Drasko a moment longer, she stumbled into her office and dug out the spare lab coat and stethoscope she kept in the cabinet. The coffee pot was empty. Who the hell drank the last of it without brewing more? Empty creamer and sugar packets were scattered across the counter, and the wastebasket was overflowing with her eaten yogurts and granola bars. She suspected Jimmy was to blame. Swearing, she poured water into the machine and peeled the lid off the can of coffee.
“Eilea,” a deep voice rumbled.
She shrieked and spilled coffee grounds down her shirt. Slamming the canister on the counter, she turned, ready to chew out the big, bad wolf that had scared her. It was Boris, naked as a babe, his arms and neck covered in bloody cuts. Damn him. He hadn’t even told her he’d injured himself protecting her from that branch.
“You’re hurt.” She reached for him. “Let me see.” Large splinters protruded from his back, stuck deep inside bloody welts, like he was sprouting branches. “Jesus,” she hissed. “Come into an exam room. Let’s get you fixed up.”
“Never mind me. You are not to leave this building without an escort. Do you understand?”
“I’m not leaving the goddamn clinic,” she snapped. He winced at her tone. “Look.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just not used to taking orders.”
He cupped her chin in a blood-encrusted hand. “I know you’re not, but your life is at stake.”
Her resolve to distance herself from this man melted a little at the tenderness in his eyes and in his words. He had to have been in excruciating pain, yet he cared more about her wellbeing than his.
She led him toward a private exam room, passing Jimmy in the hall. The annoying nurse looked at them with bulging eyes, not even offering to help. He lurched forward, rattling a keychain on his hip.
“I locked the exam rooms. Do you need in?”
She stopped, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you lock them?”
He nodded at the small infirmary, where Raz and Nakomi tended to their mates. “That old lady was going through the cabinets.”
She squeezed Boris’s hand when his low growl rattled her insides. “Maybe she needed something. You don’t lock my rooms without my permission.” She held out a hand, wagging her fingers impatiently. How did he get her keys in the first place? He had to have gone through her desk. “And stay out of my shit, Nurse Parelli, including my coffee and snacks.”
“Sorry.” He dropped the keys in her hand. “I thought I was helping.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, praying she didn’t smack Jimmy’s big, boxy head “No. If I need your help I’ll ask for it.”
He kicked a shard of glass like a petulant child. It had probably been missed when they’d cleaned up from the shattered door.
“Jesus,” she snapped, pointing at it. “Pick that up.”
Turning ten shades of red, he snatched up the glass and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket.
“Sweep the floors again, and make sure there isn’t anymore,” she commanded, bracing herself for a mantrum.
He smirked. “Ask one of the women to do it.”
When Boris’s growls intensified, she knew Jimmy was running out of time. Either Jimmy was too stupid to notice, or he just didn’t care. In which case, he wasn’t just stupid, he was a certified moron.
Sorely tempted to smack that smug look off his face, she clutched the keys so tight, metal dug into her skin. “That wasn’t a request, Nurse Parelli.”
Jimmy answered with an eye roll.
Boris moved so fast, she had no time to stop him. One second they were holding hands, and the next Boris had Jimmy pressed up against the wall, his hands around the nurse’s throat. Jimmy kicked and gasped, flailing like a fish out of water.
“Boris! Put him down.”
“Not until he apologizes,” Boris said with a grunt.
She winced at seeing Boris’s back. The blood from his wounds flowed faster, as if the movement had caused his injuries to worsen.
“S-s-sorry.” Jimmy kicked and gasped, whimpering and letting out an explosive fart.
Boris swore, dropping Jimmy like a rag doll and fanning his face.
She instinctively slapped a hand over her mouth and nose. “You ate those old fiber bars in the back of the cupboard, didn’t you?”
He nodded, tears streaming down his face. If anyone should’ve been crying, it should’ve been Eilea. His gas smelled worse than a rotting colonoscopy bag. She took Boris into the exam room at the end of the hall, jamming the keys in the door to unlock it and slamming it behind them.
She shared a look with Boris, and they both burst out laughing. She clutched her sides, tears streaming as she laughed harder, her ribs aching. In just a day, her life had gone from incredibly boring, to frightening, to awkward and then even more awkward. Could things get any worse? Probably. She laughed harder.
When Boris sat on the end of the exam table, his garden hose flopping over the side, she yanked a sheet out of the closet and threw it at him.
“Could you at least cover yourself?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“Sure.” He gave her a knowing smirk. “If that’s what you want.”
“What I want is for me to wake up from this nightmare, but I doubt that will happen anytime soon.”
His smirk faded, replaced by frown lines around his mouth. Funny, she didn’t remember those lines. She wondered if he’d acquired them while he was in mourning. She also wondered if he’d mourned the loss of Katarina being that she’d never been a good mate to him. She’d heard enough about his late wife from Amara to know Katarina hadn’t been kind.
For the briefest of moments, she considered what life would be like mated to Boris and his brothers. Amara had said the Ancients chose Eilea to mate with the Lupescus. Why would they pick her, a human, when she’d probably end up resenting them for their overbearing nature? Their clashing personalities would make everyone miserable.
She fetched tweezers, gauze, and antiseptic from the cabinet, needing to focus on what she was good at, which was being a doctor. There was no way she was mating with four wolf shifters, so why was she even thinking about it? “I’m going to remove the splinters, then ask Amara to heal the cuts. Unless you’d rather I got her first?” Though she admired Amara’s magical talents, she was dismayed that her expensive Ivy League medical degree was second-rate compared to the shifter’s abilities.
“Nu.” He settled a big hand on her wrist, his pale fingers a sharp contrast to her dark skin. “Remove the wood first.”
When she looked into his silver/blue eyes and saw pain, her breath caught. She hated that he’d been through so much heartache, and that she had to break his heart again. She set to work cleaning his wounds, amazed he didn’t flinch when she pulled out the larger pieces.
She was finishing up when there was a soft knock on the door.
Amara slipped inside and looked at her father’s bloody back. “Want some help?”
“Sure.” Eilea shoved her hands in her pockets and stepped aside. Time to feel useless again.
Eilea watched in awe as Amara laid on hands and each wound magically sealed, leaving nothing behind but dried blood.
Boris jumped off the table and wrapped the sheet around his waist. “Thank you, fiică,” he said, kissing Amara’s cheek.
Eilea’s father used to kiss her every night before bed. What she wouldn’t give to have him with her now, kissing her and telling her she had the power to accomplish anything she set her mind to. He hadn’t been referring to healing cursed shifters or battling demonic ghosts in his little pep talks, though. She shook her head, forcing dark thoughts of her long dead father out of her mind. Her melancholy wouldn’t help anyone now.
“I need to get back to my patients,” she said, though she knew conventional medicine would do them no good.
WITH BORIS AND AMARA following, Eilea went to the infirmary and looked out the windows to the waiting room. Two Lupescu
brothers were outside, adding more salt around the clinic while Geri helped Drasko repair the door. Clearly, they weren’t taking any chances, which warmed her heart. While she appreciated their presence, there was no way she would give up her human life and move to Romania. If they stayed too long, they’d wind up getting too attached to her or worse, she’d get attached to them.
She stopped at the door to the infirmary and saw all of the beds had been taken and Tor Thunderfoot was sprawled in a chair, his tanned arms covered with hives. “Goddamn it!” She turned to Amara, raising her voice to carry over the din of Drasko’s hammer. “I didn’t know the chieftain was sick.”
“They went looking for the Eaglespeaker elders and returned like this,” Amara said.
Boris straightened. “Did they find the pack?”
“Yes. They were dead.” Amara’s lower lip quivered.
“Omigod.” Her heart pounded so hard, she thought she was having a cardiac episode. “Why in hell would you risk coming here?” She jutted an accusatory finger at Boris. What if this virus killed her mates?
Hang on a second. They weren’t her mates. Not yet, not ever.
Boris’s features hardened. “We came to keep you safe. No use arguing now that we’re on lockdown.”
“How do you expect to do that if you’re sick?”
“Geri already had demon burn. He won’t get sick.” Boris gazed at the row of beds. “As for the rest of us....”
She reached for his hand again. “Boris, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He squeezed her hand, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “I’m touched to see you care so much about us.”
She jerked away from him. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about you,” she lied. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to limit the spread of infection.” She cared about the Lupescus, despite all her protestations. How could she not when thoughts of them constantly invaded her mind? How many times had she been tempted to call them in Romania and ask if they were okay? How the numerous sleepless nights she’d pined for a call from them? Now they were here, and she wanted nothing more than for them to leave, flee to the safety of their home country.
Boris bridged the distance between them and searched her eyes with such intensity, she could’ve sworn her insides melted. “We’re not going near the portal. We are here only to protect you.”
“Raz’s mates didn’t go near the portal, and they’re sick.”
He leaned into her, so close her heartrate quickened. “They were feeble and old. Sadly, so were the Eaglespeakers.”
She backed away from him. “You’re not invincible, you know.” Her voice trembled.
“Father, Eilea is right,” Amara said. “You shouldn’t be around this. Go to my home and wait with Hakon.”
She mouthed her thanks to Amara.
Bracing himself, Boris crossed his arms defiantly. “We’re not leaving.”
She snorted. “Pigheaded, stubborn shifter.”
“We could say the same for you.” Boris jabbed her collarbone, not hard, though his touch electrified her.
She swatted his hand away. “I’m trying to save you, you ungrateful jerk.”
“I should leave you two alone,” Amara mumbled and went to join Drasko.
“Wait,” Eilea called, but Amara didn’t return.
Boris grabbed her wrist, tugging her toward him, and stroked her cheek with calloused knuckles, his wolfish grin sending a zing straight to her unfulfilled and swollen labia.
“You call us names,” he purred against her cheek, “yet you deny this attraction between us.”
The trickle in her underwear turned into a steady stream. “Stop,” she said feebly, pushing against him. No way did she want him to stop. Images of him shoving her into her office, ripping off her clothes, and taking her against the door flashed through her mind. Damn, she so needed to get laid. The showerhead was out, but she still had her vibrator. If only she had time to use it.
Boris pressed into her, his impressive erection stabbing her belly and refueling her desire. “Do you really want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his fingers through her hair.
“No,” she breathed, hating that she surrendered so easily. Would it be so bad if she had sex with Boris? Get the lust out of her system so she could think clearly.
Someone loudly clearing their throat behind them brought her back to her senses. Nakomi was leaning against the doorframe, giving them accusatory looks.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she hissed like a feral cat. “But my mates will be out of fever medicine soon, and we are short a bed.”
When Boris untangled himself from Eilea, her eyes bulged when she saw the massive pole poking out from under his sheet. She should’ve known his cobra would grow into a python.
“Where can we get more beds?” he asked Eilea.
She forced herself to look at his face, wildfire racing through her cheeks at the mischievous look in his eyes. “I have a folding bed at my house. It’s more comfortable than the cot.”
“Will you get it?” Nakomi asked Boris.
“Of course, but you’ll stay in the clinic.”
“Jesus!” Eilea spat. “I’m not going anywhere.” How many times was he going to tell her?
He responded with an annoying chuckle as he strutted away. She wanted to get him alone and teach him a lesson, but she bet her plan would backfire, and she’d wind up on her back with her ankles above his ears. The thought of being pinned down by Boris sounded more tempting than frightening.
Nakomi stuck a hand on her hip. “One additional bed is only a temporary solution.”
She didn’t like the weight of Nakomi’s stare, though she refused to break eye contact with the overbearing shifter. She would not be the weaker woman, even if she lacked the ability to grow long fangs and razor-sharp claws. Much to Eilea’s relief, Nakomi raced to her alpha’s bedside when he moaned.
She returned to the infirmary, making her rounds and not liking that the Spiritcaller alpha’s labored breathing had worsened. She hooked him up to one of two ventilators, praying Uncle Joe came through with more supplies soon.
Amara walked over to Eilea. “The tribal meeting lodge has more beds. It’s an emergency shelter equipped to hold the entire tribe.”
Drakso followed Amara, setting a hand on her shoulder. “We should move the patients there instead of moving beds here. If the virus continues to spread, this clinic can’t accommodate everyone.”
“I thought the lodge was in the heart of the reservation,” Eilea said, recalling the map Uncle Joe had given her. “If we move patients there, we risk infecting more Amaroki.”
Drasko frowned. “We won’t have a choice if the epidemic grows.”
The Spiritcaller gamma and beta were so still, they resembled corpses. “I don’t think it’s wise to move them. They’re too sick.”
Drasko rubbed his smooth chin. “Best to move them now while the numbers are small.”
“You have a point,” Amara agreed.
“I will call Hakon and discuss it with him.” Drasko fished his phone out.
“Hang on,” Eilea said. “I’m the doctor here. Don’t I get a say?”
“No, you don’t.” Drasko gave her a dark look, one that would’ve intimidated a lesser human. “Hakon and I are acting chieftains now. We will decide what’s best for our people.” He marched out, already on the phone.
He’d completely blown off the only doctor among them. Did her extensive years of medical training mean nothing to these people?
“What a brute,” Eilea huffed.
“I know.” Amara stared after Drasko as if he was a tall scoop of butter pecan ice cream on a scorching summer day. “He’s totally turning me on right now.”
“Seriously? You like a man who’s so controlling?”
Amara tossed her head with a sultry laugh. “I know how to control him, too.”
Her heart raced. Maybe Eilea could learn from Amara how to bring the Lupescus to heal.
“You do?” This was the
first time Eilea had heard of the female shifters controlling their mates.
Amara eagerly nodded. “There’s this thing I do with my tongue that makes him whimper like a puppy.”
Eilea couldn’t refrain from rolling her eyes. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“Yes, you do,” Amara said matter-of-factly, “if you want to control my fathers.”
Was she for real? If a man wanted Eilea to be his queen, she shouldn’t have to get on her knees. “I’m not mating with them, so it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have to use sex to control them.”
“Why not?” Amara hid a smile behind her hand. “They salivate like dogs whenever you are near.”
“You mean they act like idiots?” Eilea fought the urge to smack some sense into Amara with her stethoscope. “That’s on them.”
“Actually, it’s on you.” Amara waved at Eilea’s crotch. “I can smell you whenever they’re close.”
“You can?” She crossed one leg over the other. “Oh, God.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Amara chuckled.
She gritted her teeth. “Easy for you to say. You’re a shifter. I’m human.”
“I’m half human, and love is love.” Amara flashed a wide grin. “It doesn’t matter what you are.”
“I don’t think this is love.” Her shoulders fell with the admission. “This is definitely more like lust.” Her pulse raced whenever they were near, but that was just a surge of hormones triggered by sexual desire.
“Trust me.” Amara’s smile widened. “You will learn to love them.”
“No, she cannot.”
Nakomi was staring at them with a look so scorching, a lesser woman would’ve melted.
“What did you say?” she asked, hating how her voice shook. She didn’t need to give Nakomi one more reason to try to intimidate her.
“I have held my tongue long enough.” Nakomi lifted her chin like a regal African queen. “Humans and Amaroki are not meant to mate. It’s an abomination.”