Aimee did look wild and raw though, like she’d been living on her own longer than Jim had let on. But there was also a vulnerability about her that wouldn’t allow him to leave. She was his patient, regardless of whatever her troubles were now.
“Mmm.” She frowned in her sleep and turned toward him. Her eyes remained closed, her lashes dark smudges above her cheekbones. She mumbled something else and he scooted his chair closer. “His paw.” Her hair was still damp from the bath, and he brushed the long bangs away from her forehead.
“Aimee?” “His paw.” Her brows came together and she turned away. “See? There.” Jake checked the IV drip and felt her forehead again. Her dreams would be strange because of the fever. But it
“He’s upright,” she said. “Who’s upright?” She turned toward him. Her eyes still closed, her face
crumpling as if she were crying in her dream. “The wolf.” Jake watched her, feeling an inexplicable urge to shrink away. The room was chilly, silent except for the unconscious murmurings of the woman beside him. The light on the bedside table was dim, mingling with long, black shadows that stretched across the ornately carved vaulted ceiling. From somewhere downstairs he heard footsteps and wondered if anyone else knew that Aimee Styles slept above them now.
Jake hesitated a second, then reached for her hand. When his fingers met hers, she held on tight, as if he’d be able to pull her from whatever tormented her in the dream. Gently, he brought her hand to his chest, something he’d never done with a patient before. Something he wouldn’t have done if she’d been awake. But instinctively, he felt like she needed to feel his warmth.His presence. “Shhh,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“The wolf,” she repeated. But this time softer.
He rubbed the backs of her knuckles and watched as her face relaxed. Then she grew still again. Jake looked down at her hand. Her nails were ragged but her fingers were long and graceful. Just like the rest of her.
Despite his jacket, the cold and damp of the surrounding woods seemed to seep into his very bones. How many times had he himself dreamed of a wolf? Too many to count. A wolf so huge, so vicious, that it had ripped away one of the most important things in his life in nothing more than a heartbeat.
Studying Aimee’s face, he wondered what exactly she was running from.
And if it would eventually catch up to them both.
To the citizens of Wolfe Creek, Aimee Styles is dead. What they don’t know is she’s alive...and a werewolf. After she was bitten two years ago, Aimee isolated herself away from the town, determined to keep them safe. But all it takes is an icy winter evening—and an incredibly virulent flu—to interrupt her self-imposed exile.
Nothing prepared doctor and single dad Jake Blackstock for the sight of Wolfe Creek's missing girl, or her delicate beauty. He's instantly and fiercely attracted to her, despite her secrets and the shadows in her near-black eyes. Jake's falling hard. He knows nothing about Aimee...or what she really is.
But something else lurks in Wolfe Creek's shadows. Something malevolent. Something that won't hesitate to rip apart their life and new love…
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About the author:
Kaylie Newell was born in the great state of Oregon, where she was raised alongside rivers and lakes and scruffy dogs that chased their tennis balls as far as Kaylie's noodle arms could throw. As she grew, so did her imagination, and it didn't take long to realize she was a romantic at heart. She began to fancy herself the future wife of a cowboy, the likes of which graced every paperback novel she could get her hands on. She decided to go to college in Oklahoma to snag herself one, but irony won over when she fell in love with a hippie in sheep's clothing instead. Together, they came back to Oregon, started a family and watched their dreams unfold. Kaylie wrote her first book when her girls were toddlers, editing sex scenes with The Wiggles on in the background. She's proud of many things in life, among them the fact that she can still recite her lines from Romeo and Juliet from her seventh grade play, the fact that she can set a grilled cheese sandwich on fire faster than most people can make one, but mostly she's proud of the stories blossoming inside her noggin on a daily basis.