Fated Bonds (the Wolves of Fireborn Pack Book 1)

No one comes between a wolf and their fated mate.

Werewolf Laina Flynn has been dodging pressure to mate for years. The successful veterinarian may be Fireborn pack royalty, but she’s happy to leave raising pups to her alpha brother Silas. So when a human triggers her mating instinct, no one is more surprised than her.

As the face of Hunt Club, Kyle Kingsley is no stranger to doing things out of obligation and responsibility. The public demands that he uphold the lifestyle the club has come to embody, even if his playboy persona is all a lie. No surprise then that Kyle volunteers to care for his recently deceased father's dog, even if the mutt is roughly the size of a barn. But when he lands in the clinic of Dr. Laina Flynn, her presence draws out something wild and untamed within him that has nothing to do with his new pet.

An act of violence on Fireborn shifting grounds drives Laina into hiding... and into Kyle’s arms. Instant attraction develops into something more when fated bonds challenge everything.

Dr. Laina Flynn navigated to the examination room on autopilot, her stomach rumbling. Who had time to stop for lunch when you were running Carlton City’s busiest and most trusted veterinary clinic? Four Paws Animal Hospital was the type of state-of-the-art facility you’d expect to find associated with a university veterinary program, not a rural town in New Hampshire. But Laina had the resources and know-how to bring the best in veterinary medicine to the area, and she had the passion to ensure her patients’ unsurpassed care.

“What’s going on with Milo?” she asked, shouldering open the door with her eyes fixed on the chart of the one-year-old English Mastiff her assistant, Becca, had wedged into the schedule at the last minute. Milo was not a regular patient, but it was obvious the dog needed her help. He barely raised his head to greet her as she approached the examination table where Becca easily held the 160-pound canine in place. The mastiff was clinically lethargic.

“He’s been sick since Tuesday afternoon,” a deep male voice said.

“Tuesday? This has been going on for three days?” Laina positioned her stethoscope to listen to the dog’s heart and lungs. Typical. Too many owners let their animals suffer in hopes of avoiding veterinary bills. For Milo’s sake, she prayed to the goddess it was nothing serious. She palpated his abdomen. The organs were normal, but the skin of his belly was covered in an itchy-looking rash. When she moved the assessment to Milo’s head, she found dry eyes and nose, and the capillary refill rate in his gums was much too slow. “He’s dehydrated. Has he been vomiting?”

“Once or twice.”

“Is he eating and drinking?”

“I think so.”

“What are you feeding him?”

“ButcherBits.”

“Ah. Has he been scratching a lot?”

“Constantly. How did you know?”

“I think Milo has a corn allergy. Switch to something grain free. No peas or lentils, though. Avoid anything generic. Will that be a problem? I might have some samples to get you started.” She scribbled some notes to herself on Milo’s chart. When the man didn’t say anything, Laina raised her head and looked directly at Milo’s owner for the very first time.

For a second, her mind blanked, her synapses shouting in unison, all power to the visual cortex! The eye candy standing in her examination room was best described as sin covered in chocolate sauce, poured into a pair of blue jeans and a trendy dress shirt. Polished, she thought. More polished than the usual pet owner who graced her halls. Groomed dark brown hair, physique developed enough to pass as a professional athlete, and eyes the golden color of ripe wheat—hazel, she supposed, with uneven chocolate-and-evergreen pigment dispersion that made her wonder if he suffered from a mild case of sectoral heterochromia. She caught herself leaning across Milo for a closer observation.

Rarely, if ever, did looks alone stir something inside Laina. As a werewolf, she was no stranger to attractive men. Her kind enjoyed genetically fast metabolisms and above-average muscle mass. Even an out-of-shape werewolf carried the appearance of a fit human. Besides, Laina was the type of woman to be attracted to brains over brawn. She’d once enjoyed a passionate affair with a height-challenged professor of archaeology during her university days. Still, one look at Milo’s owner and the wolf inside her got to her paws and panted like she was in heat.

Curious, Laina took a deep breath through her nose, theorizing that perhaps he was a shifter, wolf or otherwise. Could the stirring in her lower abdomen simply be her inner animal sensing a playmate? But after sorting through the odors of dog and disinfectant, all her hypersensitive nose detected was the scent of human with a hint of cedar and pine needles. Had he been on a long walk through the deep forest recently?

“Are you okay?” Becca whispered, nudging her arm.

“Hmm?” Laina blinked rapidly, breaking the spell. “Oh, oh yes, of course.” She cleared her throat, but her gaze snapped back to Milo’s owner as if he carried a Laina-charged magnet in his chest. 

He reached for her face with one knuckle in an oddly intimate way, and her breath caught. “I think you have something in your hair.” 

“Excuse me?” Her lashes fluttered again.

Becca ripped a paper towel from the roll they always kept on the desk and handed it to her. “Looks like you might have a leftover from your surgery this morning, Doctor,” she murmured.

Laina took the paper towel and turned toward the small mirror above the hand-washing station. There, in her untamed mahogany waves, was a blob of congealed blood. How it got there, she wasn’t sure. She’d worn a cap during the surgery itself. Maybe when she was cleaning up her operating room? Frantically, she wiped it out as best she could, then turned back to the owner, face blazing. Her ears had to be the color of ripe tomatoes by now.

“Had to operate on an intestinal blockage in a Rottweiler this morning.” She tittered nervously. “I carry a little bit of each of my patients with me always.” She laughed harder, mortified when her inhale morphed into a snort. Crap. This is a veterinary hospital not a sports bar. Pull yourself together! With another rapid blink, she tucked her hair behind her ear and refocused on Milo. “So…corn-free food. Will that be a problem?”

“Cost is no object,” he said in a gruff voice. Oh good lord, he was sexy. Don’t look, Flynn. He’ll burn your retinas like the sun.

She exchanged glances with Becca, whose expression promised she’d position Laina on the table next to Milo if she didn’t snap out of it. Why wasn’t her assistant swooning at the knees over this guy?

Clearing her throat, Laina said in her most professional tone, “I want to run some blood tests to rule out other, more serious conditions. Is Milo up-to-date on his immunizations?”

“I’m not sure,” the man murmured. “His last owner…had an emergency, and I agreed to take him in.”

“Wait, this isn’t your dog?”

“He is now. I adopted him…Tuesday. We’re on our way home. I was just worried about him and didn’t think this could wait.”

“Smart. It can’t. How far is home?”

“A day’s drive.”

She rubbed the mastiff’s ears and looked long and hard into the dog’s big brown eyes. As a werewolf, Laina could communicate dog-to-dog through smell, sound, and body position, but those things weren’t as specific as human words. For example, by the vacant emptiness behind Milo’s pupils, she could tell that he’d been through a distressing experience recently. But she couldn’t read his mind and had no idea what that experience was. Whatever his last owner’s emergency, it had left its mark on Milo in more ways than simply adjusting to a new owner.

“Can you give him twenty-four hours here? I’ll administer some IV fluids and run a few blood tests. If all goes well, he should be good to go tomorrow.”

The man retrieved his phone from his back pocket and stared at his calendar app for the better part of a minute. Even from across the examination table, Laina could see he was booked solid. Would he clear that mess of a schedule for a dog he’d owned a couple days?

“If you think that’s what he needs, I’ll plan to spend the night in Carlton City.”

“I do,” she said softly, her heart warming. Attractive and an animal lover.

He stroked a hand over Milo’s side. “Okay. Do what you need to do.”

“Perfect. We’ll get started.” She helped Becca get Milo off the table and through the door to the procedure room. “If you’d like to wait out front, Becca will check you out and take your number so we can contact you when he’s ready.”

“Actually…” The man scratched the back of his head, the deep forest scent filling her nostrils once again. 

That was definitely pine and cedar. An outdoorsy type, just like her. Well, not just like her. He didn’t sprout a nose and tail during the full moon. Had he been hiking? Fishing? 

“I was hoping I could take you to dinner,” he blurted, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t know anyone in Carlton City, and since I’ll be here tonight waiting on Milo, I thought… It would be nice to have some company if you’re interested.” The man tucked a hand into a back pocket in a way that was both casual and endearing. Was it possible to be jealous of someone else’s hand? 

It took her a second to process what he was asking. “Sorry, what?”

“Dinner. Would you like to eat with me?” He cocked an unbelievably sexy eyebrow.

“Are you asking me out?” The question erupted from her mouth with an unpleasant aftertaste. She’d blurted out the words as though his invitation had annoyed her. She wasn’t annoyed; she was flabbergasted.

“I’d love to hear what you know about raising a mastiff.” He gave a breathy laugh, rubbing his slightly stubbled chin.

Ah, that was it. He needed advice on the new dog. Made sense and explained his interest in her. “Sure. Why not?”

“Around seven?”

“Seven it is!” She bobbed her head awkwardly.

“I saw a place called Valentine’s driving into town. Is it good?”

“The best. I’ll meet you there. We can stop back here to check on Milo afterward.”

“It’s a date,” he said, opening the door that led to the waiting room.

Her heart jumped slightly at the word date, and she quickly reminded herself he was just passing through town. This wasn’t a real date. “I didn’t even catch your first name,” she said before he could leave. “It’s not on the chart.”

“Kyle.” His hazel eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Flynn.”

“Laina.” She scratched the side of her cheek, catching a glimpse of fingernails badly in need of a manicure. She stuffed her hand into her pocket. 

He nodded. “See you at seven, Laina.”