Upon returning from the washroom, where Janine emptied her pitifully small bladder and spent a moment pep-talking herself in the mirror—don’t lust after the patient, stay professional—she returned to find Derrick surrounded by burly bodies…and they were all sharing a bottle of tequila?

She blinked, but the scene remained the same. What happened while she was gone? Whatever the reason, she liked it, given these men gave something Derrick needed. Acceptance.

It was one thing for her to preach he could live a normal life, another for people to treat him normally, to tease him and swap scar stories.

She did her best to remain unobtrusive, sliding into a chair alongside Derrick, yet he knew she was there. To her surprise, he reached out and grasped her hand, and kept holding it the rest of the evening.

She’d never seen him more relaxed, so she was surprised when he announced, “Time for me and Red here to go.”

Despite the many shots and the beer he’d polished off, Derrick could still wheel himself out of the bar, but a good thing he sat in a chair because he was definitely tipsy, as his path veered from left to right. As they neared the van, she held out her hand. “Give me the keys. I’m driving.”

She expected argument. Men ever did have a problem admitting they’d drunk too much. To her surprise, Derrick pulled the keys out and handed them to her, the metal still warm from the closeness of his body.

“Let’s see how you handle those wheels, Red.”

The regular use of his nickname for her should have prompted a reminder of her title, Dr. Whelan. She didn’t correct him, as she couldn’t help a certain guilty pleasure at his appellation.

He didn’t argue about the ramp she lowered to help him board. Nor did he comment when she gave him a push to align him correctly lest he tip off. He managed to belt himself into the passenger seat and then proved himself a loquacious drunk.

“I will probably deny it in the morning, but I enjoyed going to that bar.”

“You might deny, but you’ll remember,” she stated with assurance as she guided the vehicle onto the dark road only occasionally lit by other cars’ headlamps.

“I shouldn’t have drunk that much. It makes my wolf harder to hold at bay,” he confided. “The things it wants to do…” He trailed off.

“What things?”

“You shouldn’t ask. You don’t want to know.”

Did he worry that the violence of his other side would turn her off? She’d already learned to adjust her thinking when it came to dealing with shifters. Their worldview tended to be a lot less forgiving and a lot more physical than some humans could handle. All part of sharing their psyche with a wild creature. “Tell me. You can tell me anything.”

“But aren’t you the one constantly reminding me you’re my doctor? Did you know I keep trying to remind myself too? I keep trying, but my wolf…” He shook his head. “My wolf, it wants to eat you all up.”

The van swerved as she managed a not quite calm, “It wants to kill me!”

“Not kill.” He chuckled. “I mean eat as in get between those sweet thighs of yours and lick my way to nirvana.”

A part of her understood the alcohol spoke, yet it didn’t stop the quiver between her legs. She clamped them tight. “You shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things about me, although I am very happy that you’re at least starting to think of sex in a positive way.”

Clothing rustled and the springs on his seat squeaked as he turned to face her more easily. “More than think. Want. I can’t help but want the forbidden fruit. I can’t stop thinking about and craving it.”

“You know we can’t.” Even if she desired the same thing.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t.”

“We have to keep our relationship professional.”

“Absolutely.”

They totally agreed, so why was it the moment she slid the van into the parking spot that they both unlatched their seatbelts and came at each other?

Their lips met in a clash of teeth, his hand threaded through her hair to cup her head and draw her close. Her fingers curled at his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles.

A part of her knew how wrong this was. So very, utterly wrong. It didn’t stop her hot, panting breath, the sensuous slide of her lips on his, the sucking and gnawing of tongue.

Hunger unleashed in her, a hunger matched by his passion as their lips embraced and their hands stroked what they could through clothing. Every part of her hummed, alive at this sensuous—

Knock. Knock.

The abrupt interruption had her dragging herself away, lips swollen, heart racing, and desire unquenched. For his part, Derrick appeared just as wildly affected, his eyes partially shuttered with desire. A desire they had to ignore, no matter what their bodies craved.

Who knew what might have happened if not for the knock on the driver side window and the shine of a flashlight?

With the engine off, the electronic window wouldn’t roll down. She cracked open the door and blinked at the bright light directed her way.

“Everything all right, ma’am?”

“Fine. Just fine. Just having a chat with my passenger before going in.” A chat that involved lips, but not much in the way of words.

“Who’s your passenger?” The light angled over her shoulder as the security guard leaned forward to peek.

She caught the animal sheen in Derrick’s eyes and knew the guard did too. His hand dropped to his waist. He didn’t have a gun, none of the guards allowed near the patients did; however, he did have a walkie-talkie, which meant access to guards with weapons. And I’ll bet if he works here, they know what they’re dealing with. Which means they’d shoot rather than risk a feral getting loose.

A low growl rumbled from inside the van.

“Get out of the van and move out of the way, ma’am.”

She slid her feet to the ground, but remained firmly planted in the door.

“He’s not dangerous. I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”

“He just growled at me,” the guard replied, his own eyes taking on a primal cast she’d come to recognize. The guard was a shifter.

“Give him a break. He had a few beers and was making out with me,” she boldly stated. “And you interrupted. He’s a little peeved right now. Wouldn’t you be?” The truth would serve her in this case—even if it bit her later as proof she should excuse herself from this case.

“Making out in a parking lot?” The guard shook his head. “Aren’t you two too old for that kind of shit? Get a bed.”

“We will,” she promised.

“We will?” Derrick mimed in a high-pitched voice once the steps for the guard faded into the darkness of the parking lot. “We will smack him for being a cock-blocking dickwad who should know better than to come a-knocking when the springs are a rocking.”

“We shouldn’t have been doing that,” she retorted as she opened the back of the van. Derrick moved quickly, and he was the one to toss down his wheelchair. She caught it before it tipped over.

“Of course we shouldn’t be making out.” The words emerged flat. “For a moment, you forgot what I was. Just like I almost forgot. I guess I can’t accuse the guy of cock blocking. We both know it wouldn’t have gotten that far.”

“It would have gone far enough,” she muttered. She took a few paces before she noted Derrick didn’t follow. Janine turned around and saw him sitting in his wheelchair, his face a study in agony that quickly hardened.

“Why do you insist on torturing me like this?” It didn’t emerge as a plea. Anger radiated from him, and a wild shine entered his gaze. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Do you have to remind me daily of what I can’t have? But want. Crave with a hunger you cannot imagine and yet must starve myself.”

“Lust is a healthy thing. There are lots of women—”

“Not women. One woman. You don’t understand the agony you’re putting me through.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Perhaps not. Just like I’m not desiring you on purpose. But I can’t help myself. My wolf says you’re my mate.”

“That can’t be.” A negative shake of her head didn’t erase the words between them.

“I couldn’t agree more. We all know I can never be a real mate to anyone.”

“Don’t twist my words. You know that’s not how I meant it. We need to keep things professional.”

“Oh, don’t start with the excuses. I really don’t give a rat’s ass I’m your patient. I will tell you right now, Red, if it weren’t for this”—he slammed his fists onto his legs—“I would claim you. I would grab you by that silky hair and pull you in to me. I’d bite that neck of yours and mark you for the world to see as I enter you from behind. I would fuck you until the only name you’d remember is mine.”

A sharp breath sucked in. Heat pooled in her lower body, liquid heat that sent a tremble to her legs.

“Here’s the thing, though, Red.” Derrick wheeled closer, his stare never relinquishing her from its grip. “It doesn’t matter if you’re my mate because I can’t do it. Can’t. Fucking. Do. It.” Said so softly, almost deadly. “And that fact is slowly driving my wolf mad.”

“I can’t be your mate. You must be mistaken.”

A snort left him, derisive and abrupt. “No mistake. But don’t worry. I won’t saddle you with a cripple.”

“You’re not—”

“Don’t start. Don’t say another word. And run. Don’t look back.”

“I—”

“I said fucking run!” He barked the words at her, and something in his tone made her spin. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, not because she let a patient control the situation, but more because she feared the wolf.

Derrick himself said the wolf pushed to dominate. The wolf pushed its agenda and needs onto Derrick. The wolf was taking over. The signs were all there, and yet when she answered her phone about ten minutes or so after she made it to her room, skin flushed and panting, she wasn’t ready to admit defeat with Derrick.

The first thing her stepdad said was, “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” She kicked off her shoes and padded into the washroom, the only place with a mirror. She stared at her still-kiss-swollen lips.

“I just got off the phone with a certain patient of yours.”

“Derrick called you?”

“Which is the first thing wrong. How the hell did he get his hands on a phone?”

Not as hard as her dad thought. She’d seen many patients with one. Derrick could have easily borrowed one, but how did he know what number to call?

“What did he want?” she asked. For a mentally deficient moment, she actually wondered if he’d called her dad to ask permission to court her, olden style.

“He wants you off his case. Says he’s fine and just needs to be alone.”

“He does not need to be alone. He’s just saying that because he’s mad at me.” Mad because he wants to make love to me.

“And him being mad at you is part of your reassuring speech?” her stepdad queried. “What is going on, June-bug? Why is Derrick calling me? Who the hell even gave him my number?”

She’d guess he either acquired it via some hacking in the main office or quite simply swiped her phone at one point and trolled it for numbers.

Sly. Slick. Devious. Excellent. Forget apathy. His mistaken belief she was his mate pulled him from his fugue.

Are you sure he’s mistaken? What if she truly was his mate? She’d certainly heard of it. Orson claimed it with Janine’s mother. Said he knew from the moment they met she belonged to him. As for her mom, she giggled and blushed.

So enviable and yet impossible, especially with Derrick.

“June-bug? What is wrong? Actually, I know what is wrong. I should have never sent you there. I knew the man was borderline feral. All the signs are there.”

“He’s not feral, Dad. And I’m going to prove it to you. Just give me a few days. You’ll see.”

As soon as she hung up, she immediately wondered how she could prove Derrick wasn’t dangerous. Only one idea came to mind, and she stalked over to his dorm to tell him the next morning.

Bright and early. Too early, apparently.