Alpha’s Mate (Bad Boy Bears #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Matthias

There are worse ways to torture a man than making him a doctor in a small town where his fated mate is off-limits.

I just haven't found one yet.

It’s five thirty-two on a Monday night, and the mayor of Bad Bear Mountain’s blowing up my phone. Daisy’s called six times in the past two hours, probably to pick my brain about the Bad Bear Winterfest.

Fates, I need to avoid her. Not because I don’t want to get pulled into planning a small town festival–although I don’t. But because of Daisy’s delectable granddaughter.

Maisy. My sweet mate.

No, don’t think about her.

On long days like these, it’s hard to keep my thoughts from straying to her.

I just did a double shift at the hospital in Santa Fe, and drove home only to swing by here to cover the rest of the nurse practitioner’s shift here at the clinic.

I’m not tired; my shifter side has too much stamina for that.

I mean, I could sleep. But I really need to go outside.

My bear wants some forest time, and keeping him from going feral is a constant pressure.

Sometimes, I think I work all the time just so that when I finally go to sleep, I’m too tired to dream of her.

I run my hand over my face.

The scent of mulled cider and caramel apples wafts through the door, and my bear instantly surges to the surface.

At first, I think I’m imagining it because when I let my mind wander, all I think of is her. Her hair, her scent, her smile, the delicious curves she hides under slightly too-baggy clothes.

But then, I realize…

She’s here.

Fuck.

I can’t stop myself from sucking the scent in through my nostrils, savoring the notes of caramel and cinnamon and delectable young female.

I groan. The smell makes my mouth water. My dick gets hard. My fangs try to punch through my gums, lengthening and ready to sink into something sweet.

Nope.

Not happening.

That can never happen.

I yank open the drawer of my desk where I keep the vials of Moon Cure.

It’s a special formulation I came up with to deal with my…

unique situation. I rip open a fresh syringe and fill it.

I don’t even bother to sanitize the top of the bottle or my skin.

I jab it into my biceps and press the plunger down.

The cooling sensation spreads through my arm. Sweet relief, just in time. In a few seconds, it’ll bring a dullness to my senses. Like bringing a curtain up between my rational brain and my desires. My logical self and my feral one.

My bear doesn’t like it, but he understands.

There’s a knock on my office door.

I withdraw the needle as I shove my desk drawer closed, then drop the needle in the trash can. I’ll put it in the biohazard box later. “Yes, Sara?”

Sara opens the door. “Dr. Matthias? We have a walk-in.”

Yes. I’m well aware. And I know exactly who it is.

“The patient hoped to see Nancy, but she just left.”

I stand. “It’s okay. Nancy left early to see her son in the school play. I’m covering her patients ‘til closing.” I straighten my glasses and give her a smile. “Show the patient to room two and let her know I’ll be there in a moment.”

Them. I should’ve said them, not her. I shouldn’t know her gender when all Sara said was patient. I need to get my bear under control because I’m making mistakes.

“Right away, Doctor.” Before Sara leaves, she whips out a cloth and polishes away an invisible speck of something from the doorknob.

There’s no dust in the entire clinic–everything is spic and span after the renovation, but it doesn’t stop Sara from buffing doorknobs with a smile. She’s proud of this place.

Residents of Bad Bear Mountain used to have to drive to Santa Fe for all healthcare needs until Bad Bear’s formidable old mayor, Daisy, and I helped found this place. She badgered someone to donate this drafty old house, and I volunteered my hours along with a part-time nurse.

Now the newly renovated clinic is staffed with a full-time manager and nurse practitioner, all made possible by generous donations from Lana Langmeyer and Paloma Castillo, our resident billionaires.

I lean against my desk and draw in a steadying breath as I wait for the Moon Cure to flood my system.

My bear sends me a flood of fast-motion images–me rushing into the exam room, throwing my beautiful young patient on the table, and feasting between her legs.

Me holding her down and marking her savagely with my teeth.

Me shifting to bear form, picking her up, and carrying her off to my den for an undisturbed ravishment.

Not. Happening. I tell him firmly, as I do every time I catch Maisy’s sweet scent.

She’s my greatest torture. My longest trial. Lately I’ve been allowing myself to stop into the cafe to get coffee before the drive to Santa Fe for a morning shift. That’s when my willpower is at peak strength.

I don’t dare get close to her otherwise. But today, I have no choice.

When I decide I’m steady enough, I head to the exam room. The caramel apple smell grows stronger in the hall.

My mouth waters.

My bear thrashes beneath the surface. This is more than hunger. It’s a deep longing, a mad craving.

I won’t give in.

The antique floors creak under my feet. My steps slow, and I check over my blue scrubs to make sure they’re clean–I changed after my last shift, but it’s a habit in case there’s some blood spatter that might scare the patients.

I open the door and see the female I’ve sworn not to touch sitting on the examination table. Maisy Bennett, my impossibly young mate.

“Maisy?”

The beautiful human jerks in surprise. Her pink lips part with a gasp as she teeters on the edge of the bed and starts to fall.

I always have this effect on her, my beautiful little klutz.

I’m across the room in a blur, moving with shifter speed in time to catch her in my arms. She fits perfectly. I shouldn’t hold her so close, but I can’t help it. It feels so right to hold her.

I’ve never been so close to her before. I’ve never allowed myself to touch her, even though I want her more than my next breath. Even though I dream about her every night. Spend most of my hours avoiding her and my obsessive thoughts about her.

“Doctor?” Her already pale skin leaches color, as if she’s seen a ghost, but the scent of caramel and cinnamon blooms brighter.

My bear sucks it in like a drug. He tries to send the fast-forward images again, but I refuse to let him break the barrier in my brain.

“Are you okay?” I set her back on the patient bed, loosening my hold on her reluctantly.

“Mhmm,” she mumbles, with her beautiful blue eyes fixed on the floor, and I’m reminded why I don’t get close to Maisy Bennett. She’s intimidated by me.

I step back, forcing the doctor in me to take over. My shifter senses note everything about her. Her color and temperature seem fine. Eyes are a bit dilated, but within normal range. Her pulse has sped up since I entered the room–I can hear it booming in my ear.

Her hand goes to her abdomen, and pain ripples across her face. I’m dying to pull her back into my arms and comfort her, but I force myself to act professional. I clear my throat. “What brings you in today?”

“Nothing.” She tugs down her shirt, which is a cute crop top sweater the exact color of her eyes. “I should go.” She starts to slide off the table.

“Sit down,” I order a bit too harshly for an ordinary patient. Her cheeks flush with color, but she immediately settles and puts her hands in her lap.

“Good girl.”

Whoops. Did I really say that out loud? What am I doing? I can’t talk to a patient this way.

Especially not this particular one. The mayor’s granddaughter. The girl I’ve been avoiding for so long–otherwise, I’d have her marked and bred with ten bear cubs by now.

But she reacts to the praise–sucking in a breath. Her scent–that incredible, delectable scent–grows stronger. My gums ache as my fangs descend. I turn away from her and grip the counter because the urge to pin her down and mark her is so overwhelming.

My bear roars with possessive triumph. He wants to touch her, hold her, protect her. My bear has a million dark and dirty things he wants to do to her.

I’ve got to get myself under control.

“I’m fine.” She sounds a little breathless. Her cheeks pinken, and her pupils are blown–a sure sign of arousal. If I didn’t know this from my medical training, I’d know it because I can smell all her secrets.

Does she like being called a good girl?

I want to make her my good girl. I want to carry her home, tie her to my bed, and feast between her legs. Train that intimidation right out of her and teach her she’s more than safe with me. I’ll take care of her every need. She’ll obey my every order…

Fuck. No. That can’t happen. I already know that can never happen.

Maisy is far too young. She’s in her early twenties, but I’m thirty-two and an authority figure in her life.

I have power over her, power that it’d be wrong to exploit.

She can’t even look me in the eye without falling over.

She definitely couldn’t handle me or my bear. I’m way too much for her.

So I go dom-lite, fixing her with an authoritative gaze and a raised brow. “Maisy, you’re in pain. You’re not going anywhere until I figure out what’s wrong.”

Maisy

There are six things you should know about me:

I have PCOS

I make a mean spiced pumpkin latte–with real pumpkin as the OG recipe calls for

I run a coffee shop with my grandmother, Daisy

Yes, I drink waaaaay too much caffeine

I’m an avid reader and someday want to expand the cafe to add a bookstore and brewery

But Dr. Hunk–aka Matthias Stark–makes my heart beat faster than a venti blonde roast with quadruple espresso shots

Right now, I sit on the patient table, staring at the floor. If I look at the good doctor, I will spontaneously combust. I’m already hot all over, just from getting whiffs of his sophisticated cologne.

Be cool, be cool… whatever you do, don’t drool!