Page 3 of Wolf Chosen

The drive to the clinic is interminable, each second stretching into an eternity as I monitor her breathing, her pulse, searching for any sign of change, of improvement, but she remains still, her skin cool and clammy beneath my touch, which is more than worrying.

As we pull up, I'm already formulating a plan, cataloguing tests I'll need to run, the samples I'll need to take. I have to find out what's wrong with her. Have to find a way to fix it.

With a gentleness that belies the urgency thrumming through my veins, I gather her into my arms, cradling her as I sprint toward the clinic doors. I step back into the familiar confines of the clinic, a rush of relief washing over me at the sight of Faye, the middle-aged nurse who has kept this place in pristine condition. Her eyes widen as I charge through the doors, my mate's limp form cradled protectively against my chest, but to her credit, she doesn't hesitate. Sally must have radioed ahead.

“I need the exam table readied,” I bark, my voice a low growl as I fight to maintain control over my wolf clawing just beneath the surface.

Faye leaps into action, her movements efficient and practiced as she whips off the sheet covering the exam table. I lay the female down with the utmost care, my heart clenching at how frail she appears against the sterile backdrop.

“Her bag.” I turn to see Riley clutching a well-worn satchel. “There might be medication or something that can help figure out what's wrong.”

A flicker of gratitude sparks within me at her quick thinking, and I give her a sharp nod before upending the bag's contents onto the nearby counter. An assortment of mundane items clatters across the surface. A hairbrush, a compact, a few crumpled receipts… until my gaze lands on a familiar orange cylinder.

Prescription medication.

My fingers close around the plastic bottle, and I read the label for the medication for aplastic anemia, a rare blood disorder that occurs when the body's bone marrow fails to produce enough new blood cells. But that's not possible. She can't be my mate if she doesn't have shifter blood coursing through her veins and shifters don't get human diseases like this, which means...

My heart stutters in my chest as the realization hits me. They've been treating her for the wrong illness this entire time.

Suddenly frantic, I rifle through the remaining contents of her bag until my fingers close around a soft leather wallet. I flip it open and scan the ID until her name leaps out at me: Taylor Lewis.

“Taylor,” I murmur, her name rolling off my tongue as though I’ve always spoken it. I shift my attention to the nurse who has already begun prepping the necessary supplies. “I need to draw her blood. Can you please gather the gear I’ll need?”

“Of course,” she says and charges away.

Within moments Faye returns with everything I need and I make quick work of tying a tourniquet around Taylor's slender arm and sliding the needle into the pale blue of her vein. As the vials begin to fill, I can't resist the urge to smooth my thumb along the delicate skin of her wrist, seeking out the reassuring thrum of her pulse.

Thank the Goddess it’s faint, but steady. Once the samples are collected, I waste no time in analyzing them, my years of medical training allowing me to process the results with an efficiency born of pure desperation. Just as I suspected, the truth is laid bare before me: Taylor doesn't have aplastic anemia, although there is something else there.

Lupine aplastic anemia. LAA–a disorder unique to shifters. No wonder the human medications have been failing her; they were never designed to treat an ailment linked to our kind.

I can’t blame the human doctors though. They wouldn't have known what to do. My heart breaks because at this stage of the disease, she would have been told to get her affairs in order. She’s lucky she’s here. No, not luck. Fate brought her here.

Now that I see the truth, now that I understand the true nature of her affliction, I can begin to properly treat her, to save her from her cruel fate.

“She needs a transfusion,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else as I begin rolling up the sleeve of my shirt. “My blood will heal her, make her whole again.”

Riley and Faye's eyes are on me as I prep the necessary equipment, but I pay them no mind. All that matters in this moment is the woman lying before me, her life quite literally in my hands. As her mate, we are a perfect genetic match–a bond forged by the Goddess herself, unbreakable and eternal.

It is my blood she needs. My blood that will heal her.

I settle back into the chair next to her bed. With deft, practiced motions, I slide the needle into the crook of my own arm, guiding the thick crimson liquid through the tubing and into the catheter I've carefully inserted into Taylor's vein. My blood will jumpstart her body's ability to heal itself and usher her back from the brink on which she's been teetering.

It doesn’t take long for her pale skin to regain the barest hint of color giving way to a warmer flush. The first tendril of hope blossoms in my chest. She will still need time to recover, but the truth is that I have her now.

And neither of us will ever be the same again.

Chapter Three

Taylor

Consciousness creeps in slowly, peeling back the warm, gray layers of oblivion. My mind emerges from the depths of inky blackness in a hazy, disorienting fog, struggling to make sense of the muted sounds and muffled sensations that bleed through the veil of semi-consciousness.

The first thing I see is him–the most breathtakingly handsome man I've ever laid eyes on. His tan skin is offset by wavy locks of sandy-blond hair that tumble carelessly across his brow. Hazel eyes, rich and smoldering, bore into me with an intensity that leaves me reeling. His chiseled jawline is dusted with the faintest hint of sexy stubble, making his eyes blaze with such brillliance they don’t look natural.

He's magnificent, like something plucked straight from the pages of a glossy magazine, and yet there's an undeniable realness to him, a raw masculinity that sends an unexpected jolt of desire coursing through my veins.

It's shocking, this sudden resurgence of want, of need, and for a fleeting moment, I find myself wondering what it might feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around me, to lose myself in the masculine beauty of his features.

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