Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

O nce Olivia had the kitchen cleaned up after breakfast, she decided to concentrate on work. She had taken notes and bookmarked sections of books that would be helpful to her and, of course, there was her excessive knowledge of wolves not just learned from books but from observing them, working with them, caring for them. An idea had been brewing about how to start the piece she’d been assigned to write, and she wanted to get it written before it slipped away.

She opened the laptop that she had brought to the library and got to work.

Werewolves—humans with the ability to transform into wolves or wolf-like creatures—have fascinated humanity for centuries, lurking in the shadows of our folklore, stories, and nightmares. But what if werewolves aren’t merely the stuff of legends? Is there a sliver of reality hidden in the myths?

If we trace the roots of werewolf folklore, we often find it woven into historical accounts that suggest there may have been real events or phenomena inspiring these tales. For instance, sightings of rabid or hyper-aggressive wolves or humans suffering from conditions like hypertrichosis (a rare disorder causing excessive hair growth) could have easily led to the idea of a human-wolf hybrid. Additionally, outbreaks of lycanthropy (the psychiatric condition in which a person believes they can transform into a wolf) have appeared in various historical records, often during times of social stress or upheaval. These cases involved individuals exhibiting wolf-like behaviors, leading terrified communities to believe they were indeed witnessing a supernatural transformation.

In many cultures, werewolves embody the primal, untamed side of humanity. They remind us of our connection to nature, our animal instincts, and the thin veneer of civilization we drape over our wildest impulses. This psychological aspect suggests that, though the body may not physically transform, the mind might. Given the right conditions, humans are certainly capable of shocking, animalistic behavior that can be unsettlingly reminiscent of the wolf.

Could werewolves truly exist? Science may say no, yet the legends endure, whispering to us from the deep woods, where moonlight and shadows make anything seem possible… werewolves do exist.

A shiver ran through Olivia along with a whirlwind of complex emotions. Most people would fear the idea that werewolves existed, history long representing them as dangerous. Yet after speaking with Tiernan and meeting Laird, there was part of her that found the idea plausible. She would love to understand the truth behind the myth and learn how Tiernan had managed to keep his pack hidden in plain sight through centuries, if it was true, or how close he may have come to being discovered. And did he know of other werewolves that existed around the world? There was a plethora of information to learn, if it proved true, and she found herself suddenly more excited about learning all there was to know about werewolves, not just their sex lives.

Sex.

This was how easily her work could interfere with her sex life. Her passion for her work, for wolves, took precedence over everything else. She had no idea why wolves held such an attraction to her, but she gave up long ago trying to figure it out. Instead, she indulged and enjoyed her passion for wolves. So, wouldn’t that passion extend itself to werewolves?

A sudden thought turned her eyes wide. If werewolves existed, what other creatures might also be lurking in the shadows, hidden from human knowledge? Hadn’t Tiernan said he could smell a vampire from miles away? Had he been teasing her or had he meant it?

She unexpectedly found herself fascinated with learning more and decided to search the bookshelves for books on other unearthly creatures besides werewolves. She had been so thrilled with the perk of visiting the MacMadadh Wolf Preserve that she hadn’t paid as much attention to the book project she was taking part in—The Sexual Appetites of Unearthly Creatures: Fiction, Fantasy, or Fact. How many unearthly creatures did Vera plan on including in the book?

She was curious to see if Tiernan had a section on the supernatural or fables since creatures showed up in many old fables. But that would have to wait for later. She wanted to get more writing done first.

Page after page flew by easily along with time until she realized she could use a snack since after that full breakfast, lunch hadn’t been a thought in her mind, and now supper wasn’t that far off. She closed her computer and made her way to the kitchen with ease and stopped short as soon as she entered.

Tiernan stood by the sink shirtless, blood dripping down his back from a gash on his shoulder.

She hurried to him. “What happened?” She snatched the cloth he held in his hand and ordered, “Go sit. I will see to it.” She found a bowl in one of the cabinets, filled it with water and took it to the table. “Well, what happened?” she asked again, clearly upset.

“It’s nothing,” Tiernan said.

She pointed to the gash. “That’s not nothing. It is a gash that needs stitches.”

“Nay. It needs no stitches, just a good cleaning. It will heal itself.” He chuckled. “It might be slow to heal considering my age, but it will heal on its own.”

Olivia recalled something she read. “Werewolves heal remarkably fast, even from the deadliest wound.”

“You have done your research. That’s right, we do heal exceptionally fast. Except that advanced age can slow down healing and the more it slows, the more the werewolf knows that his lifespan is waning.”

She hadn’t been aware of that. “How long should it take to heal?”

“If it isn’t healed within an hour, then I know I’m getting old.” He laughed again.

Olivia didn’t laugh. If the gash healed that quickly it could all but confirm that Tiernan was a werewolf since a wound like that would take days to heal. If it did take days, then what did that say? He was nuts, or had his werewolf years caught up with him? Either way, she didn’t care for the outcome. So, was she wishing for him to be a werewolf?

She brushed his hair off his shoulder to wipe the blood away and take a closer look at the gash. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? The wound didn’t look as bad as it had only a few moments ago. She glanced over his back and chest as she finished washing off the blood. There wasn’t a mark or scar on him. His skin was clear and smooth, not a single hair on his back or chest. Surely, a werewolf would be a scant hairy. He was muscular, more than enough to catch the eye and admire.

Touch was another matter. There was something about his skin that felt different when her hand brushed over it. How, with such firm muscles, his skin could feel soft, as if she wanted to bury her hands in him like she did with Samson, her Alaskan Malamute. She had loved running her fingers through his hair and burying her face in it when she hugged him.

“You touch with feeling, Olivia,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts and hugged her waist with one arm when she went to step away from him. “Don’t leave me. You’re right where you belong.”

His remark felt as if it squeezed at her heart in a good way and she stayed as she was when he rested his face between her breasts and breathed deeply. He whispered something that sounded familiar to her. It was Gaelic. A previous co-worker used it often when dealing with the wolves.

Mo ghràdh.

She had to be wrong. Gaelic was not an easy language to speak or understand, though it had flowed so smoothly off his lips. But it couldn’t be what she thought. She had to have heard him incorrectly. Why would he call her my love ?

She warned herself to move away from him so she could process what she was feeling, sensing, but she didn’t. She felt it. He was right. She was where she belonged. But how could that be? How could it feel so right?

She wrapped her arms around his head, keeping him there against her, needing him there, and his arm tightened around her waist, letting her know that he had no intentions of letting her go.

Did she finally admit to herself that she wanted this man, had an overpowering need for him, and damn with any consequences? She had never thought like that before now. She always weighed her decisions and made the most logical ones, but right now nothing seemed logical. How could it when she was thinking, wanting, aching to have sex with a man who claimed to be a werewolf?

“Your need is strong. I can smell it, feel it,” Tiernan said, tilting his head back to look up at her.

“I can’t deny that I want you,” she said. “My need for you overpowers me and leaves me vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable or refusing to accept what you know is true?”

“What is that?” she asked as though she had no idea.

“That you’ve fallen in love with a werewolf.”

His remark felt like cold water thrown in her face and she broke away from him. “That is ridiculous. I barely know you.”

“Is it?” Tiernan asked, remaining where he was. “You said it yourself when you told me that Laird had your heart. You loved him the moment you saw him, which means you love me. Not believing in werewolves made accepting that obvious fact difficult. So, you fight what you feel, what you know is true.”

Olivia shook her head, walking over to the stove to put more distance between them. “There is no research, no data that proves werewolves exist.”

“And why do you think that is?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The world is not ready to accept what they deem to be unearthly creatures. So, we have no choice but to hide among you. Maybe one day things will be different.”

She shook her head. “It can’t be real.”

“What do you feel for me?”

She could not deny how she felt about him. “No, I can’t deny that, especially since I never felt so strongly for a man as I do for you.”

“Then embrace it and make love with me.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she said, and stopped, realizing she’d been pacing.

“It is easy. All you need to do is let go.”

“And where do I fall?”

“Safely into my arms,” he said, stretching them out to her.

Olivia didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt frozen to the spot. A warmth ran through her and wrapped around her, melting her resistance yet spiking her uncertainty and fear, and she hurried out of the room.

She grabbed her things from the library and rushed to her room, leaning back against the closed door with relief or possibly regret, she wasn’t certain. She paced once again after depositing her things on the chair.

She never prioritized sex in her life. Never truly had an ache for it, until Tiernan. She could honestly say that her body had perked to life upon meeting him, and the more she got to know, even with his crazy claim of being a werewolf, the more she enjoyed being with him, and that perk began to percolate and had reached a rapid boil.

Did she abandon all reason and allow herself to let go and fall into his arms? What would it mean? The offer of a position here would vanish since he said he would never have sex with an employee. Was she willing to give that up? But how could she work with him if she had such strong feelings for him, feelings she could never act upon?

She walked to the window and looked out at the snow still falling along with the darkness. She was going to be stuck here for a while. What then? How could she continue to ignore what she felt? How long before she let herself feel some pleasure in the arms of a man, she finally had distinct feelings for? How long before she let herself love?

She added logs to the low fire to spark it, turned a low light on, and sat in the chair near the window, not at all ready for a long night of fighting with herself.

A knock and hearing her name penetrated the light sleep she found herself in. She rubbed her eyes and stretched out of the chair as the door opened and Tiernan entered, holding a tray.

“I thought you might be hungry since it’s way past supper time. A sandwich and a pot of tea.” He walked over to her and placed the tray on the table next to the chair. “If you prefer something else, we can go to the kitchen and scour the fridge and pantry to find what you might like.”

She stood staring at him, her attraction towards him overwhelming, her passion flaming, and took a step toward him when howls sounded in the distance, and she stopped.

Tiernan stepped toward her. “They are annoyed at their failure. It will do them good to prowl the night and rid themselves of their foolishness.” He stepped closer to her and ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “I never lose, and I don’t intend to lose you.”

Her resolve dissolved. “Wrong or right, I’m going to take a chance and let go?—”

“And fall right into my arms,” he said and wrapped his arms around her.

She stepped out of them with a smile and took his hand to lead him to the bed. “No, you’re going to fall into—” She gasped, finding herself scooped up in his arms.

“Nay, woman, I’m the alpha in this pack and it is my lair where we will make love.”

He kissed her. It was more potent than usual, but then she no longer shielded herself. She finally let her defenses down. But then she had finally found a man she wanted, a man she ached for.

His lair wasn’t a surprise to her. It was a mix of modern and old, tastefully done. The eye-catching piece, the one that dominated the room was the four-poster bed with a canopy that reached the ceiling and was draped in red as were the drapes that hugged the four posts.

He placed her on her feet in front of it. “You are sure that you want this, Olivia, that you want me?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said without an ounce of hesitation. “I never had an urge, a need for a man as much as I have for you.”

“And you will not regret it, mo ghràdh ,” he said, then brushed his lips across hers before slipping her sweater off her.

She reached out to rid him of his knit shirt and he helped, yanking it off himself to toss it aside.

“Your wound,” she said, recalling it, and her eyes widened when she spotted that he wore no bandage on his shoulder.

“It healed,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

Olivia stared at him, realizing what that meant.

His hand hurried to rest at her waist, and he turned a wickedly seductive smile on her. “I stand before you a man, Olivia, who desperately, eagerly, achingly wants to love you.”

Let go. Let him love you and let yourself love him.