Craved By Her Wolf: (Silverwood Island Shifters)

by Starr, Maia

  Craved By Her Wolf

  (Silverwood Island Shifters)

  Maia Starr

  Copyright © 2019 by Maia Starr - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Aliens Of Xeion (Sneak Peak)

  Other Books By Maia Starr

  About the Author

  Exclusive offer

  Prologue

  Sam’s olive green darted to the door as it rustled, the doorknob turning and the door lurching in its place. Haggard muttering came from the other side as whoever stood there continued to jiggle the doorknob, throwing Sam’s heart into a tizzy.

  She listened for the jingle of apartment keys, her body tensing as she readied to toss her still half-packed luggage into the closet. Was Dean home? But the only sound that came was the dawning realization of a drunken groan and more babbling from the person as he or she drifted away.

  Sam gave a sigh of relief, clutching at her chest as she sunk to the bed. Her heart had nearly jumped into her throat, and for a while, she’d forgotten to breathe. Tonight she needed Dean to stay at the bars he so crudely loved if she wanted to slip away without incident. If that had been him right then, stumbling into their apartment and catching her stuffing a suitcase, there’d be hell to pay. There was no talking when Dean got…aggressive: a side effect of his shifter nature.

  Oh! Sam had been a fool these past few years. Living with a drunk asshole was one thing but being forced to live under the thumb of a wolf shifter was a whole other beast. Literally.

  She still remembered the day she’d met Dean two years back. It had been a magical night, full of wonder and mystery. Tall, dark and handsome, Dean had come into her clinic back in Tacoma asking for her to check his headaches. He’d been lying, of course, trying to get to know her better. At first, she hadn’t looked favorably upon his decision to waste her time...but sure enough, she was swooned by his handsome smile and easy way of speaking, his whispering in her ears creating the kind of steam that heated her cheeks and made her heart pound. In no time they’d found themselves at a high-end restaurant, flaunting his slick suit and her green dress that fit tight to her many curves; he’d pulled her along afterward to his apartment, the same home they now shared, and ravaged her like a beast in heat.

  Sam licked her lips as she remembered that first night, letting him grasp her all over. Things had been simple then, so unbelievably simple.

  It wasn’t until a few months later she’d found the first signs of his shifter abilities...the odd tuft of hair under their couch, the aggressive almost, animalistic desire for her, his low growling and hard, slit eyes. Then she’d spotted him in a nearby forest, stripping and shifting and hunting a family of rabbits. She’d frozen at the sight, squirming when he came over to confront her, feeling like worms were burrowing under her skin.

  But soon she came to accept that beastly side of him, even getting past the accidental hard slaps to her shoulders and obnoxious stepping on her toes.

  She’d thought she’d finally become happy in her personal life, meeting a man that wasn’t just handsome, but willing to take the lead.

  But things only soured from there. Day after day, week after week, Dean began to growl harder at her, slap her not on her delicate shoulders but on her cheeks, leaving eye-watering red handprints on her fair skin. Soon there were punches to her gut, causing her to fall to her knees and spit out her lunch; coworkers would question her constantly about the welts around her eyes when she arrived to work in the morning. And the sex, oh, the sex, it became so wild and intense...almost forceful. Sam had been willing at first, anything to appease the man who seemed to be losing his mind slowly day after day. Still, Dean seemingly became more aggressive every single time he dragged her into the bedroom. More and more, Sam convinced herself that a few hair tuggings and nails digging into her skin were nothing compared to what other women went through in their relationships.

  She just making excuses back then, avoiding the idea that she’d somehow gotten involved with a man whose sole goal was to break her as he descended into his own unending madness. She knew she needed to leave, after two long years.

  Thankfully, Dean had taken up the traditional act of drowning his sorrows in beer down at their nearest pub.

  He’d left right after work that night, not even bothering to text or call Sam that he’d gone. She’d known out of habit that he’d waste away her hard earned money, just like every other night.

  And finally, this night, Sam had found the courage to finally rip herself away from the torrent of suffering her boyfriend had become. She was ready to rid her life of Dean the wolf shifter, the menace she’d unknowingly found herself entrapped by. All she had to do was fill her suitcase as quickly as she could, make sure she had all her IDs and cards, and leave. It was an easy plan. Yeah, it was easy. As long as she could stop her hands from trembling with each and every article of clothing she placed in her bag, she’d make it out long before Dean ever came home.

  The front door jiggled again, and Sam’s pulse quickened. Would it be another drunk again, mistaking his or her apartment front door for theirs? The lock clicked as she heard a key insert, a raucous, hard voice resounding from the other side.

  Panic took hold of Sam’s mind, realizing Dean had come back earlier than she expected. Hurriedly, she zipped up her suitcase and gently placed it in her closet, just the way it always laid to dissuade any suspicion. Closing the closet, she ran as quietly as she could out to the living room, sitting down on her grandmother’s hand-me-down loveseat and scooping up one of the medical books she often read off of her side table. Switching the lamp on, she cleared her throat as the front door jerked open, and then slowly slid as Dean popped his head inside, a wicked, drunk grin on his delectable face.

  “Hey…” he said, his heavy voice slurring. “Long time no see...bunny rabbit.” He pushed the door hard with his fingers, the door slamming into the wall and causing Sam to lurch. Still grinning from ear to ear, Dean ambled inside, forgetting to close the door and tossing his keys absently on the carpet. She glanced up at him, her lips quivering as she smiled.

  “Hey,” she responded.

  Without even waiting, Dean tripped on the carpet and stumbled onto her, his cracked lips biting into her neck. Sam gasped at Dean’s fingers wandering between her legs, and she groaned, her body torn between the pleasure and her dissatisfaction with the man giving her the pleasure.

  “W-wait, Dean, I’m trying to read right now…”

  “That can wait,” he purred, his body overshadowing hers as she sunk down, the pressure of the cushions crushing her hips and back. His lips moved up to hers, his fingers continuing their jaunt under her skirt and his other hand clutching her chest with such force, the fabric of her blouse began to tear. “Righ
t now, I want you.”

  He spat out his last word. She nearly vomited at the alcoholic stench that pervaded Dean, her nose wrinkling and her eyes closing as he pressed his lips to hers. She gagged, pushing him off, and coughed. “Enough, Dean! Go to bed. You’re drunk again.”

  Dean simply hissed, eyeing with her with those deadly eyes of his. Grabbing her by the hair and using his ungodly strength, he wrenched her from the loveseat. Sam dropped her medical book, gritting her teeth and hitting Dean’s wrist to force his fingers out of her blonde hair. A second later, Dean’s other hand rounded on her and left a stinging print on her cheek, the sound echoing as she collapsed on her butt on the floor. Dean leaned down at her, sneering and not caring about his spittle flying in her face, a vein popping in his forehead. “Dammit, Sam, come to the bedroom already! I need your sweet, sweet nectar right now! You think I drink so much to come home to a frivolous bitch who won’t accept my loving care? Come on, now!”

  Instead of her hair, Dean clutched her lithe arm to once again forcibly pull her into the bedroom they shared for the past couple of years. Sam fought back, attempting to dig her nails into the back of his hand, but he simply grunted.

  Dean laughed as they passed into the bedroom, dropping her and stumbling forward. Seconds later, he crashed into the bed face first, unmoving. Sam stopped to listen, tears stinging her eyes and wetting her cheeks. She heard his snoring a minute later, muffled by the comforter. Rising unsteadily to her feet, Sam breathed hard and gripped her arm to stop the shaking. Working up her courage once again while she watched Dean nearly suffocate himself, she made her way to the closet, careful to be quiet enough not to wake him.

  As she pulled out the suitcase, her eyes on Dean, a thought crossed her mind. Gently placing the suitcase near the bedroom door, and her heart imploring her brain to run as fast as she could out of the apartment. She fought against that instinct, stepping closer to Dean. Her eyes drifted to one of the fluffed pillows adorning the head of their bed.

  Could she do it? Was she that ready to be rid of Dean? Trembling, she reached for one of the pillows, her hand hesitating above one. Flicking her gaze back to the monster in front of her, she focused on his breathing, the beating of his wicked heart...and retracted her hand.

  No, Samantha Byrd was no killer. She couldn’t snuff out his life.

  Backing away, a batch of fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, she wiped at her eyes, hardening her resolve, and picked up her suitcase. Checking her pockets and wrapping her jacket around her, Sam grabbed both their keys, hers from the bowl near the front door and his from the carpet and sauntered outside. Peering into the dark distance, she took Dean’s key in one hand and chucked it, it’s shine disappearing in a bush below. Turning, she shut her door, not caring to eye Dean again, and locked it. Steadying her breath, she jogged down the walkway, thinking of where she’d go first.↡¶

  Chapter One

  Sam

  The boy sat rigidly, staring up at Sam with big chestnut eyes as she pressed her stethoscope to his chest, listening to his quick heartbeat. She waited, pacing his pulse, smiling as the boy continued to blush under her gaze.

  Pressing her lithe fingers into his wrist, she doubled checked her readings, telling the boy to breathe as normally as he could. He listened, and she came away with a wide smile as the boy relaxed. Pulling the other end of the stethoscope out of her ears, she turned to the grown man nestled square in the chair next to them. “Nothing unusual so far.”

  Placing her open palm to the boy’s forehead, she felt the warmth of a small fever forming. “Say ahhh!” she said sweetly, bringing a thermometer up and inserting it under his tongue. The boy squirmed, gripping his raised seat. She tipped his chin up a bit, his skin warm on her finger. While she did so, she gazed at his teeth. Hm, sharper than normal, and his canines…

  Smiling once again, she motioned for the boy to close his mouth while she turned back to the father once again. The man, whose name she thought was Connor, eyed her anxiously with piercing eyes, a trait she noticed amongst many of her patients on Silverwood Island. It reminded her of Dean, and she then shook off a sudden shiver. “Mr. Lennart, your son has simply come down with a minor cold.”

  He sighed, rubbed the back of his thick neck and leaned forward. “Thank goodness...Ace hasn’t gotten sick since the day he was born. I was, uh, a little worried there for a while.”

  Glancing at Ace, his same piercing eyes adorably boring into her. “There’s no need. Ace will recover from this very easily, and quickly I might add. In fact, this is one of the mildest cases I’ve seen in a while. He’s barely showing any symptoms, and he’s breathing fine. His forehead is warm, but not enough to officially be called a fever.” She shifted in her seat, uncrossing and crossing her legs. “I’d suggest giving him a simple tonic that I’ve used my entire life. Tea and honey: make Ace drink a large cup over the course of the day, and his throat and nasal passageways will clear up in no time.”

  “Wow!” Connor said, inching to the edge of his seat and sharing a big, warm smile with his son. “There’s really no need for antibiotics or anything else? No medicine you need to prescribe him?”

  “Other than resting in bed for a few days and keeping him out of school? Nope! You’re both all good.”

  Connor rocketed up to his feet. The sudden surge upwards and towards her caused Sam’s mind to flash back a week prior, to the night when she had left Dean behind and went on the run. She remembered how Dean had come home, lurched forward and toppled on top of her. The flash of memory caused her to jerk back slightly and bring her hand up. The sudden movement earned a strange look from Connor as he reached for his son, and Sam made to play her jerking motion off by lifting her fingers to tuck a few strands of her platinum hair behind her ears. She laughed nervously, glancing away and to the wall, her eyes lingering on the sterile, nearly blinding tint of white adorning her office. While she did so, Connor placed Ace on the ground and slung his coat over him, messing with him. The two family members chuckled as Sam glanced back, a sweet smile on her lips.

  As she watched them, she noticed another familiar sight. The way Connor moved was almost too perfect, like an animal carefully yet quickly palling around with his pup. She was reminded of Dean again, though this time she simply sighed and shook her head.

  “Something wrong?” Connor asked, blinking at her.

  With one hand, she waved his concern away, rising herself and brushing out the wrinkles of the lab coat she wore. “Nothing, just remembering something, is all.”

  Sam needed to keep reminding herself that a week wouldn’t be enough to rid her memories of Dean’s abuse. Hell, even a lifetime might not be enough. Dean had been a monster, a literal monster. She wondered what life would be like now that Dean wasn’t in the picture. Silverwood Island had been good, almost perfect. She arrived on the island, the news spreading about a top-tier doctor, and she already had a steady stream of patients. She’d gotten an assistant and home that doubled as her clinic. Things were looking up...but how long would that last?

  Dean was a wolf shifter, a tracker, she knew. Maybe, just maybe, he’d somehow find her on this strange island. But she couldn’t afford to think about that. Not now. If it somehow came to pass, she’d deal with it then, think about it then. For now, she was done running.

  “Thank you, Doctor Byrd!” Connor said, tapping his son on the shoulder. “Go on, Ace, say thanks.”

  “I know,” Ace said, eyeing his father. Turning to her and inhaling up a glob of snot, he smiled. “Thank you, Doctor Byrd.”

  “Your welcome,” Sam said, returning the smile. “If things, for some reason, don’t turn out for the better, come straight here.”

  “Will do!” Connor said happily, placing a hand on his son’s shoulders and turning him towards the doors. “I’m glad you’re here on the island, doc! There aren’t many good ones around here.” With that, he and Ace left, disappearing around the corner and letting her office door click shut.

  Sam let
out a sigh, walking over to her sink and pulling off her latex gloves. Balling up her gloves, she tossed them in the trash and turned her hip to lean against the counter, thinking about who her next patient would be. She’d met more new faces in the half-week she’d been in business than she had in the past few months. Sam had had regulars, sure, and other stray patients looking for a quick diagnosis, but until coming to Silverwood, she hadn’t thought about the all the people coming into her life; now, it was like each new face was stained into her memory. She supposed that was what happened when one just got up and went to find a new life. Sam needed to know every detail of every face she saw, of the places she went. Dean was cunning, and Sam couldn’t afford to let any detail about her slip.

  But now that she was settled, did she really need to keep track of the world around her?

  Sam found she had no answer to that question. Staying on edge wasn’t a choice she’d made, but a simple reaction to the two years she’d spent with her ex-boyfriend.

  Suddenly, her office door slipped open again, and Sam jerked up, her eyes darting to the lithe leg stepping inside. Soon enough, a friendly pair of eyes peered in, a jovial smile greeting her as a young woman walked inside.

  “So, how’d that one go?” the young woman asked. In one of her arms, a rather slim folder was tucked with the few files neatly placed inside.

  “Oh, good, as usual, Megan,” Sam said absently, running her hands through her hair to get rid of the tangles that she’d yet to fix.