Heal My Wolf (MM)
My Wolf

Excerpt

Brandt opened his eyes to a raging headache, but at least the light was low. Being a wolf shifter, he didn’t have to strain to see in the darkened room. The furnishings were rustic, including the bare necessities of a bed, a table with two chairs, and a small kitchenette area. A fire raged in the fireplace although there were vents on the ceiling indicating the place had central heating. He lay on the bed, and from the look of him, someone had removed his boots and clothes. They’d also dressed his crushed arm. He frowned. The crack of the bones had been audible. Not likely that the soft bandaging would do much.

The front door opened, and cold air swept in along with a few droplets of rain. He shivered. The man who entered rushed to shut the door again. “I’m sorry. Here let me fix your blankets.”

He came over to tuck Brandt more securely beneath the covers, and for some reason Brandt squirmed. Of course he didn’t like being on his back ill, but it was more than that. The man unsettled him.

“How did I get here?” he asked.

Calm golden eyes met his. “I brought you.” The man turned and dug into the duffel he’d carried in. “I didn’t have anything here to eat, so I went out to borrow some food. I’ll have some warm soup for you soon.”

When he stood up and headed over to the kitchen, Brandt couldn’t help watching him go. Long, weatherworn fingers moved with precision as he prepared the soup. Chunks of vegetables and meat went from a container to a small pan and then were heated on the stove.

“I did warn you the storm was coming,” the man continued.

Brandt narrowed his eyes. He found it interesting that the man didn’t turn on the lights while he worked. Brandt could see him fine, but he should be stumbling around. “When did I see you?” he asked. He would have remembered, if not the wiry build and too-long bronze hair, then the golden eyes.

The man looked up from his task and smiled. Brandt’s mood lightened a little, and his headache became a bit more tolerable.

“I was the cat,” the man said in a matter of fact tone.

Brandt’s jaw dropped. “You…a cat…?” he stuttered.

“Yes, I’m like you. You’re a shifter, right?”

He frowned. “How did you know that?”

The man shrugged. “When you grew canine teeth and tried to bite me while I was healing your arm.”

“Oh, I uh, sorry about that.” Brandt put a hand to his arm expecting intense pain and found little. “I heard it break. You know it should have been set. I heal fast, but this seemed more severe.”

“It was.” The man stepped over to the bed and pulled up a chair. He sat down and held the bowl of soup on his lap. “As I said, I healed your arm—as much as I could. I’m Tyr by the way.”

“Tyr,” Brandt repeated. The name was a Norse one, he recognized. His people, the fenrir wolves were descendents of the Norse god Fenrir. That was one point in favor for this shifter, but a cat of all things. Maybe that was what made him antsy. “A cat out here?”

Tyr grinned. “Yeah, we’re a small group. Not more than twenty. We drifted in from all over, but we’re essentially forest cats. Do you know your Norse mythology?”

“As much as the next man.” Tyr laughed. Brandt wanted to keep that smile on his face, which of course irked him. “What of it? I know your name is Norse but…”

“It is said that the Norse goddess Freya had her chariot pulled by Norwegian forest cats. Bigger than the average house cat, they were given to her by Thor. It’s also known that Vikings kept cats as pets.” Tyr’s cheeks turned pink, and Brandt was hard-pressed to ignore the draw he felt to this strange man. “We don’t share that part much. I didn’t mean to go so far.”

Brandt lowered his gaze to Tyr’s hands. They were strong, yet they cradled the bowl with gentleness. “Is that mine?”

“Oh! Yes, I’m sorry. It’s probably cooling too much. Here, I’ll feed you.” At the same time Brandt was reaching for the bowl, Tyr ladled soup with a spoon. Their hands bumped, and a drop of hot liquid fell on Brandt’s finger. He winced, and Tyr let out a yowl that was similar to a cat’s. “Fuck, I burned you. I’m sorry again.”

Brandt laughed. The word “fuck” seemed out of place in Tyr’s mouth. He raised his finger to his lips and sucked the soup off. “No harm. But I can feed myself, thanks.”

Tyr relinquished the bowl with obvious reluctance, but he didn’t move from his seat. He seemed determined to watch Brandt finish off every bit of the soup, and his scrutiny set Brandt to squirming again. He shifted in the bed, but his movements only called Tyr’s attention to the cover lying over his hips. Both of them stared down at the obvious tent there. This time, Brandt felt his own cheeks warming. To cover his embarrassment, he blurted, “What did you do to my arm? It doesn’t hurt much, but I’m sure I broke it.”

Tyr dragged his gaze from Brandt’s crotch and looked him in the eyes. “That’s my gift. I heal. I mended the bones, but full mobility and any leftover pain will take its course until it’s better.”

“That’s amazing. I’ve never heard of any shifters with healing abilities. My alphas would be interested in knowing that.” He fed himself a lump of potato and a bit of beef. The food was delicious, and he wondered who cooked it. Who had Tyr borrowed from, one of the women in his clan? “So you can’t heal pain?” he asked rather than pursue his thoughts.

Tyr’s eyes widened. “Oh yes, I can heal pain.”

Brandt couldn’t help looking at him. His eyes weren’t just pure golden. They had flecks of brown. Interesting. “I wondered because since I woke up I have a raging—”

Tyr’s gaze flew back to Brandt’s crotch.

“Headache,” Brandt emphasized. “My head hurts.”