The day was dragging. Slowly. With only one visitor to the clinic that morning so far, I found myself pacing, counting my steps as I moved back and forth across the exam room, counting floorboards, counting ceiling tiles – anything to keep me from counting the seconds. I took stock and reorganized the medicine cabinet, then the cleaning supplies. We were low on cotton balls. I made a note of it.

I hated days like this, being left by myself with little to do. I was much happier on days when the clinic was busy, humming with energy, rushing between exam rooms and working as a part of the team. A part of the pack. But on these quiet days, I couldn't help feeling anxious. Today in particular, I had a pit in my stomach; I felt like I was waiting on the other shoe to drop.

After several hours of trying unsuccessfully to ignore it, I sat down in one of the waiting room chairs heavily. With a sigh, I tipped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I turned my attention inward, grasping for the edge of whatever I was feeling, hoping to pull it out and into the light so that I could determine what exactly it was. I'd never been particularly good at the practice and was usually unable to focus hard enough to see clearly. Today, unfortunately, was no exception.

My half-hearted attempt at meditation was interrupted when I heard distantly the sound of tires on gravel. I opened my eyes, perking up and shoving the pit in my stomach ever deeper and well out of reach. I stood and moved to the front window and watched a red beater pickup pull up the drive. I recognized it as one of the guard trucks, immediately identifiable by the dents around the truck bed where men would plant their hands to hop in or out.

Though I knew the driver and his passenger, there were several men hanging off the sides that I didn't recognize. I retreated to the far side of the room, putting the reception desk between myself and the door. I knew I had no need to be nervous; I was safe here in our pack's territory. But I also knew from experience that there is always a risk when dealing with wolves – especially when they were hurt.

One of the strangers in the bed of the truck vaulted out before it came to a full stop. Favoring his right arm, he used only his left hand to propel his body over the side. Standing now beside the vehicle, talking to the driver, I was able to take in his full size. The man was huge, well over six feet tall with broad shoulders. He had to lean down slightly to speak through the truck window. I dropped my eyes as he began to approach the clinic alone. The rest remained with the truck, leaning against it casually and watching him move.

When he entered, the bells hanging on the front door jingled uselessly. His looming presence filled the small space and I struggled against the feeling of claustrophobia. I could sense the energy radiating off of him, a distinct aura of power that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I knew before he spoke that I shouldn't be taking him in as I was, and I dipped my head quickly.

"Gabriel," he introduced himself curtly. The Castle Pack Alpha. I had long heard stories of his ruthlessness, of his disdain for humans, and I felt a twinge of anxiety in my stomach. Had I known he'd be coming by, I would have called in another healer to deal with him.

Keeping my expression neutral, I looked at him. His face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and his unruly dark hair was raked back into a rough bun at the nape of his neck. I hesitated briefly before making direct eye contact; I knew he would immediately be able to read my apprehension, if he hadn't smelled it already. I gripped my pen in my hand and cast my eyes upwards to meet his. They were pale blue, piercing and severe. My pulse quickened.

"Kiera. How can I help you?" I asked, mentally willing my voice not to shake.

He lifted his muddy shirt to reveal a deep gash across the right side of his chest, the skin around it blackened and charred. "Silver blade," he said, his voice clipped. "Won't heal on its own."

My brow furrowed and I stepped around the desk to take a closer look. I'd never seen an injury like this before. Under normal circumstances, this type of wound would heal itself within an hour, maybe two. But here the edges had been seared, preventing the skin from regenerating and closing on its own.

"Come on to the back, we'll get it fixed up." I said. He nodded once and followed me, turning slightly sideways to fit down the narrow hallway.

Under the sharp fluorescent lights of the exam room, I began collecting supplies from the cabinet. Gabriel stripped his shirt off and eased himself onto the exam table and it groaned under his weight. This had once been a human clinic, so the equipment hadn't been designed with the size of wolves in mind. The tables were reinforced when our pack took it over decades ago, but even with the additional steel, Gabriel's size in contrast with the table beneath him was almost comical.

I pushed the medical cart over and pulled the task light down to shine on the wound. I again leaned in close to examine the edges.

"Is this going to take long?" Gabriel asked tersely, though his harsh tone hardly constituted a question. I interpreted it as a demand.

"It shouldn't," I assured him. I moved to my cart and picked up the syringe that I had prepared with medicine from the cabinet. When I turned back to him with the syringe, Gabriel's hand shot up and grabbed my arm hard. His sudden movement, nearly quicker than I could register, startled me and I dropped the needle.

"No," he growled, eyes narrowing. I winced as his grip tightened, his large hand easily encircling my whole wrist. My heart pounded in my ears.

"It's only lidocaine," I sounded scared. I was. "It'll just numb your skin."

"I don't need it." His voice was low and menacing and resonated from deep in his chest. I could tell by the way his eyes flashed darkly that his wolf was fighting for control. He felt threatened. When I nodded, he let his hand drop back to his side. I took several seconds with my back to him to compose myself, pouring antiseptic onto a fresh square of gauze slowly to buy myself a bit of time to calm my nerves.

"This will sting," I warned Gabriel before I soaked the wound in antiseptic and began to wipe it clean with the gauze. I glanced at his face to gauge his reaction, hopeful that it would be enough to make him change his mind on the lidocaine. No such luck. Gabriel's expression remained stoic, not giving any indication that he felt anything at all.

I reached next for the needle and surgical thread to begin the sutures. I focused on slowing my heartrate and stilling my trembling hands. I'd given hundreds of sutures at the clinic to kids and teens who hadn't yet come into their own as wolves and couldn't heal their own playground injuries. I tried to remind myself that this was no different, despite the voice in my head screaming that it was. The wound was deep and long, and I had to make sure the stitches were placed just right. I guessed it would take at least fifteen, maybe twenty.

"Ready?" I asked, hesitating with the needle over his chest. Gabriel grunted in response. His skin was thick and tough, and it took some effort to get the needle to pierce through cleanly. I wondered if this was an Alpha trait; I hadn't noticed it on other wolves.

As I worked, the only sounds in the room were the quiet rustling of my overcoat and the occasional drip of blood onto the floor. I let myself get lost in the task, the steady rhythm of the needle soothing my nerves.

Between sutures, I couldn't help but steal glances at the Alpha - his sharp, rugged features, the way his biceps bulged when he tensed his arms. He didn't flinch, but kept his head tipped back and eyes focused on boring a hole through the ceiling tiles. A thin sheen of sweat beaded across his forehead, and although his breaths came shorter and faster, he didn't make a sound. Wolves were rarely good with pain, but Gabriel hid his well.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I tied off the last stitch and cut the thread. I sat back on my stool and used my forearm to push the stray hair back out of my face. Gabriel let out a long, slow breath and shifted his gaze to me, meeting my eyes. My stomach flipped as a rush of adrenaline surged through me, prickling on my skin from my scalp to my toes. I broke eye contact quickly and rushed to put a bandage over the wound.

Gabriel flexed his muscles and tested the strength of the stitches. He nodded in approval.

"Try to keep it clean and dry," I advised, turning to push my cart over to the medicine cabinet as an excuse to keep my back to him. "It should heal itself in a few days now."

I shuffled things around on one of the shelves and tried my best to look busy. I heard the table creak in protest as Gabriel slid off and he left the room without another word. As he brushed past, I caught a whiff of his scent – it was musky and primal, wild and untamed. Magnetic. I knew he'd exited once I heard the bells on the front door jingle and I relaxed, resting my forehead against the cool glass of the cabinet door.

Later on, after my shift had ended, I made my way back home. It was dusk, and quiet. My adrenaline from my encounter with the Alpha had waned as the day drew on and now I just wanted to sit on the couch with a glass of wine.

I found Jack in the yard, as always, crouched in the dirt and feeling it between his fingers. He looked up when I opened the front gate, face breaking into an easy smile. His comforting presence spread warmth immediately through me and the last traces of the day's tension in my body dissipated.

"Hi you," he said, standing and wiping his hands on his pants.

"How are the potatoes?" I asked.

"Coming along," he picked his way through the various vegetable patches to come kiss my forehead. He drew back to look at me, holding me by my shoulders. His brown eyes scanned mine, narrowing. "Something's up."

Goddamn wolf senses. "It was just a long day."

Jack draped a heavy arm across my shoulders and pulled me close against him, again kissing the top of my head.

"Let's go inside and get cleaned up, you can tell me about it." I wrapped my arm around his waist and nodded before letting him go.

"Use the back door though. I'm not cleaning up another dirt trail," I teased. Jack ruffled my hair and disappeared around the side of the house.

I stood on the porch for several minutes, enjoying the cool breeze. Jack was already in the shower when I got inside, so I poured myself a glass of wine and went into the bathroom to sit on the counter.

"You want to join?" He asked, grinning, pulling back the shower curtain enough to poke his head through. His shaggy blonde hair dripped water down his face. I shook my head. He flicked water at me before closing the curtain again.

"I had a new patient today," I said.

"New?" Jack asked loudly over the noise of the water and the fan. "Who was it?"

"The Castle Pack Alpha. Gabriel." Saying his name out loud for the first time brought a warm blush to my cheeks. It felt illicit, like whispering the word fuck as a child on the playground. The shower shut off abruptly and Jack shoved the curtain aside. I let my eyes slide over his body, dripping wet and still a bit soapy. Though smaller than most of the men in the Pack, Jack was strong from his work on the farm, all lean muscle, skin sun-kissed up his forearms to the line where his t-shirts hit on his biceps. Noticing me looking at him, he fought back a smirk before grabbing his towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist.

"You treated him?"

"He needed stitches." I said. Jack stepped out and stood in front of me, frowning.

"You were there with him by yourself?" I nodded. "You should have called me, I would have come by."

"It was quick, he was in and out." I tried to sound reassuring and pushed his wet hair back. Jack hummed and I followed him into the bedroom. I sat on the bed while he changed into fresh clothes.

"What was he like?" He asked.

"I don't know, quiet." I said. He waited expectantly for more and I rolled my eyes. "Huge. Intimidating. Not particularly friendly. Why don't you seem surprised that he was here?"

"What do you mean?" Jack walked away from me, into the kitchen. I chased after him.

"I mean exactly what I asked," I pressed. Jack sighed. "Why was he here?"

"The guard's been struggling with a group of rogues, they can't seem to push them out of our territory. Dmitri called for some back up from Castle Pack. I didn't think the Alpha would come down, though."

I nodded, trying hard not to show my annoyance at being left in the dark. My family had long been lucky to be accepted, even welcomed, by the Sawtooth Pack, but there were still discussions we were left out of, especially when it came to matters of security.

"You'd think they would have let the clinic know to be prepared for injuries," I grumbled.

Jack leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sure they didn't expect it to be necessary."

"Clearly, it was necessary," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "He caught a silver blade."

A cloud of concern crossed Jack's face briefly, almost imperceptibly, before he reached out to take my hand.

"I'm sure they've left town by now. If any of them come in again, just call me, okay? I don't want you to be alone with Castle wolves."

I smiled gratefully, squeezing his hand. "Deal," I promised.