His Alpha Mate

Time

Time. It passes in a nonsensical blur of sunrises and sunsets. My wolf instincts tell me that I have been lying in this bed just a little over a week but my human side is only aware of a few supported spoonfuls of broth and a couple of assisted visits to the bathroom.

My location is unclear though I can see that I am in some sort of wooden cabin. It’s more than a simple bothy as I can see a large wardrobe on the opposite wall and a chest of drawers with a massive flat screen sitting on top. My bed is made up with soft flannel sheets that match the curtains and a hand-stitched quilt but the rough-sawn walls and lack of pictures and any other decor scream man-cave to me.

As I roll over onto my side, I let out a gasp of pain. “Easy there, lassie. You don't want to be ripping open those wounds of yours before they've properly healed, do ya?”

Startled, I whip my head around and finally get a proper look at the man who rescued me. Standing in the doorway, he fills the space. Broad shoulders and muscular arms contrast with his tapered waist and long legs. But what captures my attention are his eyes. Their green is so bright it's as if they would glow in the shadows. His inky black hair falls over his brow as he studies me with equal intensity.

“Where am I?” My voice is raspy with disuse and it hurts to force the words out.

“My cabin. Somewhere safe. I'm Logan, by the way. And you are?” His arched brow somehow transforms his face, making him seem less fierce and, well, more human.

“Gilly.” Logan. The name is familiar but my brain is still foggy and I just can't place it.

As Logan steps through the doorway I can see that he’s holding a tray laden with bandages and medical supplies. s**t. For a moment I had completely forgotten how injured I am. How vulnerable I am. How naked I am.

I can feel a blush rising rapidly up my face. This stranger has seen me naked. Sensing my unease, Logan gives me a small reassuring smile before crossing the room and, in a business-like tone, informs me that he needs to change my bandages.

“How bad is it?” I ask as I struggle into a seated position on the bed.

“Bad enough that if you weren't wolf you would have been dead a week ago. Just as well yours is a stubborn b***h and held on. The healing is accelerating now that your wolf is whole again.” None of what Logan has just said makes any sense and the confusion on my face makes him stare at me with exasperation. “How old are you, Gilly?”

“Twenty-one,” I mutter wondering what my age has to do with anything.

Logan comes over to the bed and motions for me to turn so that he can access my back. Clutching the quilt to my front, modesty makes me forget that Logan has seen every inch of my body and I can't help but flinch when he touches my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I mutter as he draws his hand away. “This is all very strange for me.” My wolf senses are struggling to give me a read on Logan’s intentions. I realise that I’m going to have to rely on my human intuition instead.

“Where are you from, lassie? You don't sound local.” The question throws me and I take a second before I respond.

“Down south. Little town near Lockerbie.” I have no idea who this guy is and even though he saved my life, if he finds out that I belong to the notorious Stewart pack and he is not a friend, I might not be safe for much longer.

“So what are you doing in this part of the Highlands?” Logan’s curiosity is laced with something darker though I can't be sure of what exactly as even my usual intuition seems to be somewhat scrambled.

“I wanted to be able to run free under the moon. Normally I'm in a city and a friend told me about this forest where I could embrace the light.”

“Your friend is a f*****g fool,” Logan growls. “Way too dangerous for a lassie like yourself to be running without a pack in this part in this part of Scotland.

I wasn't too safe with my pack, I think sourly to myself. I can't think of how to respond so I simply shrug my shoulders and, as a distraction, suggest that I’m ready for Logan to change my dressings.

This time I am ready for his touch and I sit patiently as he removes various bandages from my back and neck. “Much better,” Logan tells me. “Most of the gashes have healed nicely, but you still have a couple of deep ones on your shoulder that will take another couple of days.” He gently places dressings over those areas with the utmost care.

“Thank you,” I respond once he tells me that he is done. “I could really use the bathroom if that's not too much bother?”

“Sure,” he says coming around the bed to help me up.

Logan seems to sense my reluctance to drop the quilt and without a word, crosses to the wardrobe and pulls out a flannel shirt. “Here,” he says gruffly as he offers it to me, stepping back once it's in my hands and turning his back to give me some privacy.

The material is soft from age and has a woodsy scent that I attribute to pine trees and rain. Testing out my mobility I find that I can slip the shirt on without too much discomfort. “I'm ready,” I say once the last button is done up and I have rolled the cuffs up to my elbows.

It takes a little manoeuvring but finally, I'm on my feet, though my legs quiver from disuse. “Bathroom is this way,” Logan points to a door in the corner of the room as he offers me his arm. Stumbling on my first step as my right leg just doesn't seem to work correctly, I fall against Logan for support. “Someone took a right chunk out of your arse,” Logan explains with a small chuckle. “Might take another week before the muscle is fully healed but you should have better mobility by tomorrow.”

“You could have warned me,” I grit out, feeling frustrated at my lack of function.

“Had no idea what you can or can't do. You have been so out of it that I've had to carry you until now.” Logan’s bland tone suggests that maybe this is somehow normal and something he does regularly. How is that even a thing?

“Oh, God.” I am mortified. Slowly I shuffle to the bathroom with Logan's arm wrapped around me for support. Despite my current state, I can't help but become aware of Logan's scent. Sandalwood, juniper and something earthy that I can't quite place. It's intoxicating and for the briefest moment, I forget that I am barely standing upright in a stranger's bathroom in the middle of who knows where.

“Do you want help?” Logan gestures to the toilet bringing me back to myself.

“Um, I should be okay.” The bathroom is small but functional and there seems to be plenty of surfaces to support me so I am grateful to be able to do something as simple as pee by myself.

“Fine. I'll wait outside then until you call me.”

“Thank you. Really, thanks for everything, Logan.” With a small salute, Logan walks out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. For the first time since I woke up, I finally have the chance to assess my body, assess what happened and figure out what the hell I'm going to do next.