Page 55 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Tori places a warm hand on my forehead. “He’s alright,” she says gently. “Little banged up. Refused treatment until he got you out of the woods.”
Relief rushes through me like a tidal wave.
“What happened to the two of you out there?”
I hesitate. How much can I tell her? About the wolves, the alpha, the shield? The way my power crackled and surged, far beyond anything I’ve managed before?
“You remember that story I told you about my being saved by a young werewolf when I first moved here?” She has thankfully moved on.
I nod, not sure why she’s bringing this up now. Is she popping into my thoughts?
She smiles as if she did hear my thoughts. “That wolf was Noah.”
My breath catches.
“So you’ve known all this time that he was a shifter?” I ask.
She smiles her devious trademarked grin.
“You little Fae, you. And he never picked up on your magic.”
She mixes some kind of concoction, her fingers deft and sure, a sly gleam in her eyes. I catch the flick of her glance—sharp, knowing—as if confirming her words hit their target. There’s always a game with Tori, and somehow, she always plays it three moves ahead. She was always up to something and ten steps ahead of me…even when we were kids.
“You used a lot of energy,” she says. “Here. Drink this.”
She hands me a ceramic cup—not standard EMT issue. It’s warm and filled with something that smells like rosemary, cloves, and molten citrus. I sit up enough to take a cautious sip. It bubbles faintly on my tongue but instantly chases the ache from my limbs. Magic.
I arch a brow at her. “What kind of ambulance carries herbal remedies?”
Tori gives a sly smile. “The magical kind.”
Despite everything, I smile too. She always knows exactly what I need.
I let the cup settle in my hands and lean back. My mind spins with questions, but for now, I’m just grateful—to be alive, to be seen, to not be alone.
And grateful this shift is over.
Back in my dorm room, I smile as I recall the story about how Tori ended up in Lolo. What was it she had told me?
She came seven years ago as a volunteer with the Red Cross, part of a clean-up crew after a wildfire scorched half the valley. Back then, she was drifting—fresh out of a bad breakup, a stalled nursing degree, and one too many cities that never felt like home. When she got off that bus in Montana, all she knew was that she needed to feel useful again.
But it wasn’t the Red Cross that changed her life. It was a supernatural rescue.
She’d gotten separated from her team while helping clear out a remote trail shelter. The smoke turned fast—hot, thick, choking—and she swore she wouldn’t make it out.
Until he showed up.
A massive wolf, black as ash and glowing like something out of a dream, tore through the flames and carried her to safety. She never saw the man shift. But when she looked into Noah Benson’s eyes two days later at the station, she knew. Same eyes. Same soul.
He never acknowledged that it was he who saved her. Too risky I guess.
But she knew. And she never left.
And he had taken an unnatural interest in her, helping her get into the program and acting like her big brother ever since.
She trained with the crew. Got her EMT certification. Kept her magic quiet—just enough herbal remedies, just enough intuition to pass as gifted. But she stayed close, because good men are rare. Good wolves even rarer.
And Noah Benson was both.
