The Awakening Aidan - By Abby Niles Page 0,2

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