The Awakening Aidan

The Awakening Aidan - By Abby Niles


Chapter One


Aidan O’Connell juggled an armload of groceries as he tripped up one of the cabin steps. Damn it. When he reached the front door, he knocked on it with the only thing he had available at the moment: his foot.

Silence.

He took a calming breath between clenched teeth.

Patience.

A virtue he feared he was running short of. Hadn’t he already used every ounce he’d possessed? He’d offered his friend a place to stay while he mended a broken heart, and at first his new living situation had been fine. But over the last few weeks his temporary roommate seemed to forget this wasn’t his house, and that common courtesy—like opening the blasted door when needed, or hell, helping unload the groceries—was expected.

“Liam, come on, man. Open the door!”

He listened for the heavy footsteps of his friend on the other side of the wood. The only thing he heard was a pissed-off squirrel chattering in the distance. Most likely some other animal was creating a disturbance in its life. He could sympathize. Liam had completely disrupted his.

He grimaced at the thought. That wasn’t fair. Liam couldn’t help it. Though if he’d freaking listen, he’d at least get some therapy.

He kicked the door with more force than necessary, taking satisfaction in the way the wood groaned in response. No way Liam hadn’t heard that.

Still, no one answered.

Cursing under his breath, Aidan shifted the brown grocery bags in his arms, fished his keys from the front pocket of his khaki cargo shorts, then fumbled with the lock. He probably should’ve done this from the beginning and saved himself the irritation. He kept giving Liam chances to prove that his old friend was still there. The friend who would’ve heard Aidan pull into the driveway and been outside to help before he’d even parked the truck. He hip-bumped the door open.

“Liam! I could use some help here.”

Crickets. Aidan tightened his grip on the bags. He shouldn’t be surprised. Liam had been MIA for weeks. Oh, he’d been around in body, but he’d checked out mentally ages ago. If he didn’t get some psychological help soon, it wouldn’t be Liam who went stark raving mad, but Aidan. He backed into the living room. “Dude, we’ve got to have a serious talk.”

As he turned around, he stumbled to a stop.

“Liam?”

His friend sat ramrod straight on the edge of the black leather armchair, his gaze focused on the wall in front of him, unblinking. If it weren’t for the muscle that jumped occasionally in his jaw, Aidan would’ve thought Liam was dead and rigor mortis had set in. Aidan slid the bags down his body and dropped them on the matching leather couch as he stepped toward his friend. “Hey, Liam?”

He didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge that Aidan had spoken. He remained as still as the armchair he sat in. Laying his hand on Liam’s shoulder, Aidan was stunned by the rock-hard tension of his friend’s muscles. He gently shook. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

Stupid question. Liam was certainly not okay. Aidan squatted beside the chair. “Li-am.” He sing-sang his friend’s name. No reaction. Shit.

Could the tales be true?

Panic tightened his throat. Dsershon was rare among shifters—so rare that most shifters only knew about it through someone who knew someone who knew someone else. And the stories had become like old wives’ tales.

But Liam had been increasingly agitated over the last month. Aidan had walked on eggshells around his friend, worried that one wrong move would find him on the biting end of Liam’s sharp tongue, which had gotten even sharper lately. He’d rather take his nasty attitude than this. This scared him, and made the unbelievable all the more real. He called Liam’s name again with no response.

Aidan straightened and dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his shorts. He hadn’t wanted to do this. Had hoped Liam would come to this conclusion on his own, but the time for his friend to see reason was long gone. The man needed help—months ago.

He retrieved the business card Britton had given him a few days earlier. “Dr. Jaylin Avgar, Psychiatrist” was imprinted on the off-white stock paper in a gold italic font.

Not that a normal human therapist could ever help Liam, but the symbol in the right-hand corner of the card, a square with three lightning bolts inside that represented the beast within, was exactly the therapist he needed—and there were only a handful of them in the United States.

Liam was going to be pissed, but he’d just have to put up with whatever his friend threw at him. This—whatever this was—wasn’t normal. He slid his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number on the card. It rang three times before a young female voice answered with, “Dr. Avgar’s office. This is Pam. How may I help you?”

“May I speak with Dr. Avgar, please?”

“I’m sorry, but she’s in a meeting right now. May I take a message and have her call you back?”

In a meeting. The typical rebuttal for someone screening calls. How many times had he blown off someone with the same excuse? “This is an emergency.”

“I understand, sir, but she’s in a meeting.”

Aidan clenched his jaw. “Dsershon is at stake here. I don’t have time to wait.”

Silence stretched on the phone. The woman was either a half shifter and knew what the word meant or thought he was talking in some cryptic code that only Dr. Avgar would understand. It didn’t matter to him which one it was, as long as she got the doctor on the phone.

“One moment, please.” She didn’t even wait for his response as classical music assaulted his ears.

He studied Liam. His friend still hadn’t moved. Nor had the vacant expression left his face. Had there been any warning signs? Yeah, he’d stopped mid-sentence a couple of times, had gotten this confused, disoriented look, but he’d always blinked it away and picked right back up where he’d left off. Aidan had chalked it up to stress. Idiot! Why hadn’t he insisted Liam see a specialist? He’d tiptoed around the subject. But every time he brought the topic up, Liam went ballistic.

“Dr. Avgar. How can I help you?”

“This is Aidan O’Connell. I have a friend—”

“Mr. O’Connell. While I appreciate your thinking of me, I no longer practice in that area of psychiatry. I can refer him—”

“I need someone now. He’s sitting here like he’s in a trance or something.”

The silence on the other end of the phone allowed the squeaking of her chair to come through the phone. “How long?”

“I don’t know for sure. He was like this when I walked in the door ten minutes ago.”

“Listen to me carefully. Place one hand on his shoulder and snap your fingers in front of his face. Do not release the pressure from his shoulder. He’s lost in her and needs stimulus from his surroundings. Continue snapping and calling his name until he comes around.”

Aidan put the phone on speaker, placed it on the arm of the chair, then gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Liam.” He snapped his fingers three times in quick repetition. He didn’t even blink. “Liam,” he said his name more forceful, snapping his fingers again. Nothing. Damn it. “Liam!”

“It’s not working,” he directed to the phone. “What the hell’s the matter with him?”

A whispered “shit” came through the speaker before she said, “He’s in Bahrraj. Has he had no therapy at all?”

“None. He’s refused.”

“Stubborn damn shifters. I swear to God… Where are you?”

He gave her directions.

“It’s going to take me at least thirty minutes to get there, and that’s making all the lights. I’ll get there as quickly as I can. Don’t stop trying to reach him. The longer he’s in Bahrraj, the harder it’s going to be to get him out.”

The phone went dead.

Aidan continued doing what Dr. Avgar had instructed. Desperation twisted his guts as his friend’s gaze failed to focus on him. He grabbed both Liam’s shoulders and shook—or tried to shake. It was as though Liam were made of stone. His head didn’t wobble, didn’t even sway with the motion. His entire upper body moved in unison. He had no doubt if he pushed Liam over into the floor, he’d stay in the exact same position.

This was all Ava’s damn fault. She better hope Dr. Avgar could bring Liam around, or there’d be hell to pay.

…

Jaylin tapped her palm against the steering wheel as she willed the light to change. Carnal Ridge, North Carolina, was one of the top ten shifter-populated towns, evident by the sharp, musky scent of wildness lacing the air.

A smell that should’ve reminded her of home. Instead, it made her question her sanity.

Why had she agreed to this?

She should’ve referred Mr. O’Connell to…to whom? The next closest therapist specializing in Dsershon was three states over. Thankfully, the condition was rare. In her eight years as a therapist, she’d only had five cases.

Only five cases. She shook her head. One case had been one too many. She could’ve gone her entire life never seeing the true effect of Dsershon. The dismal life a bonded shifter lived after being abandoned by his unbonded mate was heartbreaking to watch, much less counsel. Add in the many Wydow cases she’d dealt with and it was enough to make her quit shifter therapy and concentrate solely on human grief, which was still difficult to bear at times, but at least she wasn’t dealing with the Fewshon. A bonding of souls that was supposed to bring endless happiness, but all she’d witnessed was endless pain.

She glared at the red light. “Come on!”

Finally the light changed. She hit the gas and made a left off Main Street. The glare of the sun struck her straight in the eyes, causing her to squint. She lifted her foot off the accelerator. She’d be no help to the shifter if she got in an accident. A few miles down, she pulled onto the dirt road Mr. O’Connell had instructed her to take. Towering trees blocked out the glare, giving an eerie orange cast to the densely packed trees. The narrow, curvy road wound deeper and deeper into the woods, yet again making her drive slower than she wished.

Why couldn’t he have lived in one of those cute little housing developments she’d passed a few miles back? Instead he lived in the middle of BFE where the banjo tune from Deliverance was probably played nightly.

As she crested a steep incline, the trees thinned to nestle around a modest-sized log cabin in a perfect, circular-shaped clearing. Vibrant green grass surrounded the area, and a walkway made of stone led from the gravel driveway to the cabin. Freshly mulched flower beds filled with lush bushes and other greenery hugged each side of the steps of the porch.

The place had a definite homey vibe to it. You’d never know a shifter’s life was in danger by looking at it. With that thought, she haphazardly parked the car beside a four-door truck that made her sedan seem ant-like in comparison, grabbed her briefcase, and jogged up the path. The door flew open before she’d made it onto the porch.

“He hasn’t come out of it!”

Despite the panic on the man’s face, her breath caught and she stumbled to a stop. She didn’t know whom she’d been expecting, but this young, muscular all-man man was certainly not it.

Shaggy ginger hair topped his head. The same color stubble lined his cheeks and strong jaw. Green eyes with tiny laugh lines crinkled at the edges watched her, though she figured their appearance was more from worry than laughter right now. That thought brought her out of her hottie-induced stupor. “Where is he?”

“In the living room.”

She went to brush past him, trying to keep her wayward eyes from the thick expanse of his chest that taunted her from beneath the stretched fabric of a green cotton T-shirt that read “Kiss Me, I’m Irish.”

The word “kiss” held her transfixed for a moment, and she paused in the doorway staring at it. A rumble from his chest nudged her back into motion, and she hurried into the room. She felt his eyes follow her, felt them burn into her ass as if he’d actually touched her there.

She was a professional, for goodness’ sake. She’d been around plenty of attractive men. What was it about this one that made her have a momentary lapse in judgment?

No matter. She had a job to do.

Placing her briefcase beside her on the floor, she studied the blond man sitting on the chair, so deep in Bahrraj, completely lost in his mate’s emotions, and her heart twisted. As she grabbed a penlight from the pocket of her suit jacket, she stepped in front of him and lifted his eyelid wider. She flicked the light across his pupils. No dilation. Damn it.

“Is he going to be okay?”

She wanted to ignore the other man, pretend he wasn’t there, but she couldn’t disregard the worry in his voice. Without looking at him, she said, “Give me just a minute. I need to do a few things.”

She lifted a stethoscope from her briefcase. She hadn’t used the thing in eight months, but even after she’d made the decision to never work with shifters again, she couldn’t bring herself to toss it away. Weak on her part, but she wasn’t completely anti-shifter. Just…worn out.

Placing the scope to the man’s chest, she listened to his heartbeat. The Fewshon buzzed in the background like static from a radio. The fact that she could hear it was concerning. He was even deeper in Bahrraj than she’d thought. She moved the scope to his right side under his rib cage, listening for a rumble of his beast. Silence. She clenched her teeth together. Worst-case scenario right in front of her. Thank God she’d brought her kit.

Straightening, she pulled the plugs out of her ears and let the scope hang from her neck. She turned to face Mr. O’Connell. His eyes pierced hers, assessing her with an interested gleam. He stepped closer to her, and she tilted her chin up in warning.

“Mr. O’Connell—

“Aidan.

“Mister O’Connell, he’s very deep in Bahrraj. I’ll need to take extra measures to reach him. I’ll need for you to leave the room.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Like she hadn’t seen that coming. Heaven-for-freaking-bid she ask a shifter to do something he didn’t want to do. “If you insist on staying, I’ll need your help.”

“I’m listening.”

“He needs more outside stimuli. What’s Liam’s favorite food?”

“Pork chops.”

“Do you have any on hand?”

He nodded.

“Could you throw some on so we can get the scent inside the house? It will help reach him.” Which was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. If it got him out of the room so she could do what she needed to do, then she had no qualms about lying.

When he didn’t move, she leveled him with a stare. “Now.”

A slow grin spread across his lips, drawing her attention to them. Irritation spiked. Not only for noticing his lips, but for what that slow grin had meant. He thought she was cute for trying to boss him around. Ass.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a slow drawl.

While he rustled around the kitchen, she calculated the distance. He should be far enough away. He may feel some residual effect, but she and Liam should be safe from any negative impact it may have on Aidan. Jaylin riffled through her briefcase and pulled out the leather package containing the Splycer.

Years ago, when she’d been inexperienced and allowed emotion to cloud her judgment, she’d made the mistake of using the device in the presence of another male shifter, something she’d been taught never to do. She’d ended up having to tranquilize the raging beast that had emerged. She’d never made that mistake again. She withdrew the small tool, no bigger than her thumb, and put the earbuds back in her ears.

The smell of pork chops cooking started to permeate the air. Good.

Now to find his beast and bring it back to its rightful place under Liam’s rib cage, so it could help him fight his way back to reality. Unfortunately, his beast could be lost in one of six areas. Placing the stethoscope on his wrist, she listened for a faint rumble. Nothing. She checked around his back and temple, and finally heard the low vibrating growl below his ear where his jawbone stopped. She pulled the cap off the electrode and placed the two coils directly to his skin and pulled the trigger. A red flash lit the room as the sounds of electricity shooting from the Splycer into Liam rent the air. His body jerked. Once.

“Liam!” She barked the word, with force and dominance. She snapped her finger.

“Liam!” she repeated.

She saw a flicker in his eyes, a quick shadow that passed right across the iris. Then the tense shoulder beneath her palm relaxed and he blinked.

Jaylin sighed. Thank God. She’d had patients in Bahrraj before, but never this deep. His gaze focused on hers and her stomach dropped at the lost look of a Dserted shifter. She smiled at him, trying to keep the pity from her face. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

He frowned and moved back in his seat. “Who the hell are you?”

Jaylin straightened as Mr. O’Connell walked into the room with three pork chops on a plate in one hand, while rubbing his chest with the other, a look of confusion on his face.

Yep, he’d felt it.

“What the hell was that red—hey there, buddy, you scared the hell out of me.”

Liam glanced around the room, his frown deepening. “What happened?”

Jaylin sat on the coffee table across from him. “Liam, I’m Dr. Avgar. Mr. O’Connell called me for help. Do you remember anything?’

His jaw turned to granite. “No.”

He was lying. They all did in the beginning, until it got so bad they could no longer lie. “You felt her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You need therapy. A way to learn to cope. It’s only going to get worse.”

He finally looked at her. The sadness in his eyes reminded her why she’d never mate a shifter, never want to even garner the interest of a shifter. The man standing behind her burned into her awareness.

“I can refer you to someone who can help.”

Mr. O’Connell walked into her line of vision. “No. We need you.”

She glanced up at him. Big mistake. She had the hardest time looking away. “I’ve already told you I no longer take shifters as patients. I work strictly with humans.”

“Can you cure me?”

The soft words came from Liam. When she looked at him, she wanted to cry at the hope in his eyes. She was going to cave. It was why she’d gone strictly human. One look at an emotionally wounded shifter, and she was a goner. “I can help you cope. There is no cure.”

“I’d like for you to help me.”

She stood and grabbed a card from her wallet and handed it to him, unable to believe she was actually going to do it. “Call my office in the morning and we’ll set up a time for you to come in.”

He shook his head sharply. “No. You’ll come here.”

“I don’t make house calls.”

Mr. O’Connell stepped forward. “I’ll pay triple your hourly wage plus gas.”

She swallowed. “You have no idea what I even charge.”

He shrugged. “Money’s no object if Liam can get the help he needs. I’ve been told you are the best…so we need you.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “Three hundred and fifty an hour, two hour-long sessions a week, and I’ll even pay you the hourly rate for your drive. It took you forty-five minutes to get here, so that’s an extra three hours a week.”

Her eyes almost bulged from their sockets. Seventeen hundred fifty dollars a week? Was he kidding? From his outfit to his cabin, he didn’t look like he had that kind of money just sitting around. She narrowed her eyes. Maybe he was all talk. She’d had it happen before, where the patient was desperate enough to offer anything to get help, but couldn’t follow through.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll need half of the first week’s fee up front.”

Let’s see him get out of that.

He simply left the room.

She blinked. What did that mean? Did he or didn’t he have the money?

She shook her head and busied herself putting her supplies away. A few minutes later, a white envelope was thrust under her nose. She shot a glance up at Mr. O’Connell, irritated by the triumphant smirk on his lips.

“Do we have an arrangement?” he asked.

She took the envelope and opened the flap to find nine crisp hundred-dollar bills.

“Consider the extra payment for the gas you used on the way up here.”

For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. She’d been certain he was bluffing, that she didn’t have to worry about being around him anymore, that she’d leave here tonight never to see Mr. O’Connell again.

But money talked, and right now she needed it. Badly.

Since she’d cut her patient list by more than half, she was barely making enough to feed herself, much less keep the practice open. This kind of money would help with the loss of income and hopefully give her some time to grow her human patient list.

“Well?”

The one word grated on her nerves. He grated on her nerves. Yeah, she needed this money, but not if it meant dealing with this man twice a week. Then she noticed Liam rubbing his palms on his jeans. Cagey. Juiced. She grabbed the stethoscope from her briefcase. As she bent toward his chest, he jerked away from her.

“Hold still.”

He froze. She placed the scope back over his heart. The buzz of the Fewshon was still audible, although not as loud. The shock should’ve knocked the connection into submission and she shouldn’t be able to hear it. She listened under his rib cage. His beast made the mournful sounds of a wounded animal. Frowning, she straightened. The poor man was on the brink of another Bahrraj episode. But when would it hit? It could be an hour, a day, maybe two. But it was going to happen. Soon. Money or not, he needed her help and she couldn’t in good conscience walk away from him. “I have a few hours free in the morning.”

Mr. O’Connell stepped forward. “Perfect.”

She tilted her chin in the air. “My appointment is with Liam. I’m willing to come, but only if he’s alone.”

He lifted one brow. “I live here.”

“Don’t you have a job?”

“I work from home.”

Damn. “Then stay in your office.”

“I can do that.”

She frowned in suspicion at his easy acceptance, but forced herself to look back at Liam. “I’ll see you around ten.”

He nodded.

“Now if you gentlemen will excuse me. I need to get home.” She grabbed her briefcase and ignored Mr. O’Connell as she walked by him to the front door, but it was hard to ignore his scent, which attacked her nose with its mouthwatering appeal. No cologne. All shifter and woods. The image of Mr. O’Connell shirtless, skin glistening with sweat, as he used an ax to chop wood teased her mind. That would be a sight to behold.

Wait. What?

She shook her head. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman. He’s a shifter.

That fact alone should’ve tempered her awareness of him, but it was there in full force, knowledge of his species and all. Not good.

She reached for the doorknob just as a strong arm shot past her. His hand slid across hers and sent a thrilling shock up her arm that shot to straight between her legs. She snatched her hand back.

“Allow me.” The deep masculine drawl breathed into her ear, causing another wave of liquid heat to wash over her.

She stumbled back as he opened the door, then rushed past him and down the path. His footsteps followed at a leisurely pace. When she reached the trunk of her car, she turned. “You can go back inside, Mr. O’Connell.”

He stopped in front of her, his chest mere inches from her face, the word “kiss” once again holding her captivated. She wanted to trace each letter, feel the muscles twitch under her finger with each light caress. Hear his beast growl in approval.

Instead, she tilted her head back to look at him, then had to crank it back some more. It was like looking up at the Jolly Green Giant. Part of her wished she’d worn higher heels. The four-inch ones perhaps, so he didn’t make her feel so small and vulnerable—but she had a feeling that even if she could look him in the eyes, he’d still have that ability, and that annoyed her.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Mr. O’Connell, I suggest you take a lesson in personal space.”

Damned if he didn’t move closer, forcing her to tilt her head even farther back. She wanted to step back, step away from the overwhelming awareness, but she held her ground. She’d shown a moment of weakness by stumbling away from his touch at the door. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it again.

“Call me Aidan.”

“You’re the roommate of my patient. You’ll always be Mr. O’Connell.” But, boy, was she tempted to say his name. Just once. To see what it felt like on her tongue. “Good day, Mr. O’Connell.”

She turned away to head for the other side of the car, relieved to finally have some space between them.

“I accept your challenge.”

She clenched her hands. Okay. Enough was enough. Time to nip this in the bud now. She rounded on him, poking him once in the middle of the chest with her finger. “Do you truly believe I don’t have a clue what’s going on here? I’m not an ignorant human. I’m half shifter. I know what you are. I specialize in what you are. Don’t waste your time trying to use your shifter prowess to lure me in. I’m not fooled. ”

He wasn’t ruffled by her comments. He just leaned his hip against the trunk and crossed his arms again. “You’ve only made the challenge sweeter. I look forward to proving you wrong…Jaylin.”

She shivered at the way he said her name—a verbal caress that physically warmed her all over and lit a roaring fire low in her belly. She stared at him for a moment trying to come up with a retort. Words failed her.

“Oh!” She whirled around, rounded the back of the car, wrenched open her door, jumped inside, and slammed it closed. His chuckle followed her, causing weird zingies to ricochet inside her chest. Damn him.

“’Til tomorrow.”

He lazily strolled back to the cabin. She couldn’t take her eyes off him in the rearview mirror until he entered and closed the door behind him. Then she stared straight ahead, biting her bottom lip. What would it be like to say his name? She couldn’t ignore the part of her that wanted to hear it fall from her lips, and here would be a much better place than slipping in front of him. She breathed deep.

“Aidan,” she said to the quiet confines of her car’s interior.

His name flowed from her tongue. Even whispered, the word dominated the silence as if she’d screamed it at the top of her lungs. Saying his name held so much power. How would it feel to have him looking at her when she spoke it aloud? Would his beast show itself in his eyes? What bestial color would dominate those green irises as the beast rose? And, God, why did she want to see it directed at her?

She hung her head. What had she done?

…

Aidan waited until Jaylin’s taillights faded into the trees before turning away from the window, wishing he could express his feelings for the doctor to his friend. Six months ago he would’ve without hesitation, but now he wasn’t sure how Liam would react.

He watched his friend suck the grease from the tips of his fingers. He’d devoured two of the pork chops while Aidan had been outside, and finished the third while he’d stood at the window. “Hungry much?”

“Starving.”

The one-word answer made Aidan run his hand over his head. It never used to be this hard to talk to Liam. Out of his two close buddies, Britton was the one he went to when he wanted to drown his sorrows, and Liam was the one he went to when he wanted to talk about his sorrows. Man, times had changed.

Aidan walked around the couch and sat down. “Liam.”

He hated the guarded expression that closed over his friend’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

Sighing, Aidan leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “I think Dr. Avgar will be good for you.”

“You’re hot for the doc.”

He blinked at the switch in conversation. Not sure how to respond to his comment, Aidan said, “She’s a very attractive woman.”

Liam snorted and shook his head. “It’s more than attraction. I saw the look on your face. You had the need, didn’t you?”

A pang hit Aidan in the chest. For just this moment it felt as if he had Liam back. His friend. “Yeah.”

The need had started the moment he’d opened the door to find her standing there. Knock to the gut was putting it lightly—it was more like the earth had shifted under his feet. His beast had sniffed the air, then howled, and it had taken everything in him not to kiss her right there and then.

“Do yourself a favor. Don’t give in to it.” Liam slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “If you do, you’ll be f*cked up for the rest of your life. Look at me.”

The bittersweet moment shattered as the stranger who was now Liam left the room. He’d never been negative before, had always been the glass-half-full sort of person. Then Ava had shown up and ruined him.

He knew Liam wished he’d never given in to the need and kissed Ava, which was the gateway to the Fewshon. Finally, Aidan understood why his friend hadn’t been able to resist the instinct. It was so powerful and consuming that he’d been able to completely overlook the fact that Jaylin represented everything he’d left behind.

With her dark hair twisted up into an immaculate French twist, the gray suit wrinkle-free and expensive, she’d been the epitome of business-world class. Despite her aloof, detached air, he’d never found another woman so alluring, so tempting.

He’d wanted to peel the suit off her, strip her of all her armor, and leave her vulnerable, freeing the real her—just as he’d freed the real him.

And she’d let him, even if she refused to admit it.

As she pretended to be unaffected by him, her body had betrayed her. After he’d intentionally slid his hand across hers at the door, the honeyed scent of her lust had teased his nose. He’d gotten another mouthwatering whiff when he’d said her name.

She might not like it, but Dr. Jaylin Avgar wanted him.

Liam walked back into the room, breaking into Aidan’s thoughts. He stalked the cabin: living room, kitchen, living room, hallway, living room, kitchen. Agitation made his movements jerky. Tension pulsed in his clenched jaw.

“Would you sit down? You’re making me tired just watching you.” He forced a laugh, hoping Liam found the humor in his words and calmed down.

“Go to your f*cking room then.”

Aidan bit down hard, keeping his retort to himself. It would only put Liam in a fouler mood, and given what had just transpired this afternoon, it was best to leave well enough alone.

Liam growled—not his beast, but Liam. “I can’t f*cking do this. Tell that woman to forget it. I don’t want her help.”

Aidan stood. “She can help you, man. Give her a chance.”

The look of fury Liam shot him shut him up.

“Yeah, sure she can. That’s what women are put on this planet to do. Help the shifters.” He gave a nasty laugh. “You’re in for such a rude awakening, my friend. You need to open your eyes before a woman helps you.”

With that, he slammed out the front door.

Aidan didn’t go after him. He’d seen Liam in this mind frame before, and there would be no talking him out of it. He could only hope that his friend would reconsider before Jaylin showed up tomorrow.

Because there was no way in hell he was calling her to cancel.