Page 2 of Wolf Chosen

The rumbling of my empty stomach draws my attention to a retro restaurant, the glowing red neon of “Sally's Diner” beckoning me inside. Through the wide front windows, I catch glimpses of patrons chatting over plates of food. It looks welcoming and hospitable. Surely I can find something my rebelling stomach can tolerate here, even if it's just a simple cup of coffee.

Through the large windows my gaze lands on an extremely handsome man seated by the window. There's something effortlessly rugged about him, from the weathered tan of his skin to the sexy stubble lining his chiseled jaw. His sandy blond waves are tousled in that perfectly imperfect way, and when he laughs at something one of his companions–an older woman–says, I feel an unexpected flutter in the pit of my stomach.

It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation, one I haven't experienced in longer than I can recall. Yet here I am, undeniably affected by this stranger's unassuming masculinity. As well as the older woman, he's seated with an older man plus a beautiful woman around his age, and a pang of misplaced jealousy lances through me. She must be his wife.

As I try to shake off these misplaced feelings, I can't help but marvel at the fact that I'm still capable of them at all. When my life dissolved into hospital visits and treatment plans, I forgot what the spark of attraction felt like.

A wave of dizziness assails me as I exit my car, but it passes as quickly as it rose. I gather my purse and ensure the vehicle is secured before ascending the four steps to the diner's entrance. The merry tinkle of a bell announces my arrival, and an odd hush falls over the previously lively establishment as I step into the foyer area.

I'm immediately greeted by a smiling, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair. There's something innately welcoming about her warm demeanor that puts me at ease despite the abrupt silence.

“Welcome to my diner,” she says, introducing herself as Sally. “Would you like a booth, hon?”

Mustering a polite smile, I accept her offer, though the mouthwatering scents of greasy diner fare are already churning my rebelling stomach uncomfortably. A sheen of perspiration breaks out across my brow, but I'm certain that if I can just sit down, the nausea will pass.

I only make it two steps before the room starts spinning, my knees buckling as the darkness closes in. In those final moments of consciousness, I'm vaguely aware of the handsome stranger launching himself from his seat, features etched in stricken concern as he rushes toward me. Then, everything goes black.

Chapter Two

Liam

The moment she walks through the door of Sally's Diner, my wolf's savage howl reverberates through my mind: mate. Shock and disbelief course through my veins as I struggle to comprehend the reality before me. After countless years of waiting, of teetering on the brink of turning feral, she's finally here.

My mate.

My salvation.

She's breathtaking, with long, chestnut waves cascading past her shoulders and striking emerald eyes that pierce my soul. Beneath her beauty, she’s too pale. Too frail. My heart clenches as my medical training kicks in, cataloging the telltale signs of long-term illness.

She sways and begins to crumple. I'm out of my seat before conscious thought registers, my wolf propelling me forward with a speed that blurs the world around me. I reach her just in time to catch her limp form, cradling her against my chest as a wave of panic engulfs me.

Her head lolls on my arm. I expect her eyelids to flutter. For her to wake, but she’s unresponsive.

She's not waking up.

Distantly, I'm aware of the commotion around me—my parents' worried voices, my sister Riley's frantic questions, Sally's panicked gasps. I can't focus on them, not now. All that matters is the woman in my arms, the mate I've yearned for, prayed for, for so long.

“Liam, is she... is she who I think she is to you?” Riley's tremulous whisper shatters the cacophony of panic lancing around me.

I can only nod. My throat constricts, the metallic tang of fear coating my tongue as I fight to keep my wolf's anguish at bay. The confirmation drains the color in Riley's cheeks. She turns instinctively into our mother's embrace, Mom’s arms encircling her trembling form as she shoots me a look of sheer devastation over Riley's shoulder. Dad's expression mirrors hers, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“I need to get her to the clinic. Now.”

There's no room for argument, no time to waste. Every second my mate is unconscious isn't a good sign.

I scoop up my mate's fragile form with a gentleness that belies the desperation coursing through my veins. Her head lolls against my shoulder, a few stray tendrils of her chestnut tresses caressing my cheek. She’s soft. So soft and feminine.

Despite the pallor of her skin, the worrying limpness of her body, she's the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on. The beacon of hope in the darkness that has consumed me.

I carefully maneuver her into the backseat of Riley's truck, and hop in on the other side so I can cradle her head on my lap. Her scent rises around me, the delicate sweetness of rose petals. Soft and feminine like her.

As Riley navigates the familiar roads of Willowbrook, I find myself lost in memories of my time at the wolf clinic. I'd spent years there, tending to the scrapes and bruises of our youngest pack members, their bodies not yet capable of the rapid healing that would come with age. As Willowbrook’s curse took hold, and more and more of our kind found themselves without mates, without hope, the birth rate naturally plummeted. With it went my purpose.

I'd sought employment in the human world as a doctor helping humans. With my mate's fragile form cradled against me, I’m glad I know how to start treating her.

If I can.

I shove down the thought as helplessness rises. It won’t do myself, or my mate, any favors.

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