Chapter 1 The Hit and the Healer

Pain is just a sensation. That's what my coach always tells me. But as I sat on the cold steel bench of the locker room, clutching my right shoulder, I was pretty sure he was full of crap.

The adrenaline from the third period was finally wearing off, leaving behind a throbbing, white-hot agony. Some rookie from the opposing team had caught me with a dirty check against the boards. I heard the sickening pop before I felt the pain.

"Tala, you good?" my teammate, Jenna, asked, pausing as she unlaced her skates.

"I'm fine," I gritted out, forcing a tight smile. "Just a stinger."

I wasn't fine. But as the only female player in the professional league-I couldn't afford to show weakness. If I shifted here, in front of the cameras and the screaming fans, my career was over. My life was over.

"Coach says the new physio is waiting for you in the medical room," Jenna said, giving me a sympathetic look. "He's supposedly the best in the business. Cost the franchise a fortune."

"Great," I muttered, grabbing my towel and heading toward the back corridors. "Another old guy with cold hands and bad breath telling me to take a week off."

I pushed open the door to the medical suite, ready to snap at whoever was inside.

The words died in my throat.

The man standing by the treatment table was not an old guy with bad breath. He was tall-easily over six-foot-three-with broad shoulders that strained against the fabric of his tailored black dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing veined forearms and hands that looked more suited to handling a weapon than a muscle strain. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and when he turned to look at me, I was hit with a pair of piercing, ice-blue eyes that seemed to look right through me.

He looked like sin wrapped in a medical degree.

"Tala Vance," he said. It wasn't a question. His voice was deep, smooth, and laced with an authority that made my wolf bristle.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, suddenly very aware that I was sweaty, bruised, and not at my most intimidating.

"Dr. Kael Thorne," he said, stepping forward. "Your new lead physiotherapist. Coach said you took a hard hit. Let me see your shoulder."

I didn't move. There was something off about him. My wolf, a creature of pure instinct, was pacing anxiously inside my chest. She didn't sense danger, exactly. She sensed... power.

"I don't need a doctor," I said, taking a step back. "I heal fast."

"I'm sure you do," Kael said, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk. "But I still need to do my job. Now, sit down."

It was a command. Not a request. And against my better judgment, I found myself sitting on the edge of the treatment table.

He stepped into my space. He smelled of cedarwood, winter frost, and something darker-something that made my pulse flutter. He reached out and gently tugged the collar of my compression shirt down to expose my shoulder.

His fingers brushed against my bare skin.

A sharp, electric spark shot through my body. I gasped, my head snapping up to look at him. His pupils dilated, the ice-blue of his eyes darkening for just a fraction of a second.

He felt it too. I knew he did.

"Bruised, not broken," he said, his voice a little rougher than before. He pressed his thumbs into the knotted muscle, and despite the pain, a soft moan escaped my lips.

"See?" I breathed, trying to regain my bravado. "I told you I heal fast."

"You do," Kael murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands began to work the muscle, but his touch felt entirely too intimate. "A normal human would be in a sling for a month with this kind of trauma. But you... your body is already healing the micro-tears. Almost like a supernatural ability."

My heart stopped.

I froze, my eyes widening. "What did you just say?"

Kael leaned in closer, his breath fanning across my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. His voice was barely a whisper.

"I said, you heal remarkably fast, Little Wolf."

Panic, cold and swift, drenched me. I reached up, grabbing his wrist to push him away, ready to bolt. But I might as well have been trying to move a mountain. He didn't budge.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice shaking.

Kael smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who had cornered his prey.

"I told you," he said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver object. It wasn't a medical tool. It was a pendant-a silver wolf's head on a heavy chain. The emblem of the Silver Moon Pack. My pack.

Before I could react, the door to the medical room clicked. The heavy deadbolt slid into place.

Kael dropped the pendant onto the treatment table next to my hip.

"Your father sent me," he said, his eyes turning utterly glacial. "He's tired of waiting for you to come home. So, here's the deal, Tala. You have two choices. You can come with me quietly and fulfill your destiny as the Alpha's daughter, or..."

He let the threat hang in the air, a terrifying, heavy silence.

He leaned down, placing one hand on the table beside my head, caging me in. His face was inches from mine, his eyes burning with a fierce, dark intensity. "Or I drag you out of this building, kick you off this team, and make sure you never step on the ice again. The choice is yours, Little Wolf. But you have exactly sixty seconds to make it."