Wolf Moon: Wolf Bound, #2

By Arya Karin

Careful what you wish for…

 

Kevin Taylor awakes to his worst nightmare. His leg has been amputated from the knee down because of his motorcycle stunt accident. Thinking his life is over, he broods until a new physical therapist takes over his care and he finds himself falling for her.

 

Amber Carter loves her job helping people, but she lives with a secret. As a teen, she tried a spell from her family's grimoire and her parents ended up dead. Now she'd rather just live a normal life. Except when Kevin finds her book and turns himself into a wolf, will she have enough power to fix him?

 

Wolf Moon Book 2 in the Wolf Bound series, but written as a standalone.

This is a previously published book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arya Karin
• Release date: Jun 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201343767

Arya Karin

Arya Karin lives in the south and writes steamy romance and action.  Besides being crazy about reading and obsessed with all things romance, she likes to dance, sing, and spend time with her family.  Want to know more about Arya? Click here to go to her website- https://authoraryakarin.blogspot.com/ Or sign up for her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/c7lTtr

Book preview

Chapter One

Kevin

Kevin Taylor’s motorcycle was a twisted jumble of pipes, metal and plastic.

Worse, he'd failed his last stunt and hadn’t even gone out with a bang. Now he was a cripple who would never ride again, except in a wheelchair.

The hospital bed sheet bunched up around Kevin's knee, the rest of his leg was gone. He would never be the same. And now his brother stood here giving him shit as if he deserved this punishment.

Hey, little brother. Ryan scooted the chair forward and sat. Want me to snag something decent for you to eat?

No, I want my fucking leg back! His life, his self-esteem, everything. The tension between them was so thick that the weight of it pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe, but it didn’t seem to bother Ryan.

If I could, man, I would go back in time and stop you from doing the stunt. His brother scratched his nose and shifted.

Both of them lived for danger with Ryan taking up rugby and Kevin doing stunts. But lately, his brother’s wildness seemed to have calmed. Like he’d found peace or whatever.

Ryan raked a hand through his brown hair. Always courting danger. You play on a minor-league rugby team—so why do you have to do the reckless stuff, too? I’ve warned you to stop tempting death. You’re lucky you’re alive.

Life is over, Ryan. He waved a hand over his wrapped leg. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

His brother paled, knowing the truth as well as Kevin that his life before was gone. I’ll get you the best help.

How am I going to compete? Huh? Who wants to come out and watch a cripple perform?

Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It could’ve been a lot worse. The doctors were afraid you wouldn’t wake from your coma, and—

What about you? You and nearly everyone on board survive a plane crash in the mountains, and come back as super players. I want you to tell me what's going on with you and the team.

Ever since their plane smashed in Transylvania nearly a year ago, Ryan and his whole team had been different. None of them got sick anymore. Carmen, who had cancer, was now in remission after tromping through the Transylvanian Mountains. Wasn’t that where Dracula came from? Something was up. If he hadn’t seen his brother chow down on a garlic pizza a few months ago, he’d have assumed he was a vampire.

Kev, I don't know what you’re talking about. He looked away and scratched his nose, one of his tells. We pay our dues just like everyone else. Sam, Johnathan, and Eddie didn’t survive. We were lucky, that’s all.

Why are you lying to me? Kevin narrowed his eyes. We both know you and your team were good. Then all of you rocket to the top in a single season?

It's not steroids or drugs. Ryan clenched his fists on his lap. We've just practiced harder, and—

Bullshit! Kevin yelled. His heart burned with betrayal and anger. From his gym’s window, he’d seen Carmen lift a car with one hand with no signs of straining. Those lies might work for the rest of the world, but I know better. Like how you used to get sick every Easter. Eggs came out and you'd get a cough for weeks. This past year, you've not even had a sniffle.

Look man, I don't know what you’re expecting from me. I don't have some magical mojo to give you.

Go to hell. He couldn’t even look at him anymore.

Kevin… His brother paused. Let me know when you're ready to talk.

Whatever, man.

Ryan sighed, and the door to the hospital room shut with a bang, his footsteps fading down the hall.

While his brother was a team leader and halfback to the New Zealand Hellions, Kevin remained an invalid...unable to walk. He wanted the excitement—the roar of the crowds—and he only got it playing rugby and doing his motorcycle stunts. Everything was now stripped from him.

It wasn't fair. All Kevin had wanted was to be on Ryan's team, especially on their winning streak. His brother had refused, saying they already had enough players. Sure, Kevin had played on other rugby teams, but it wasn't the same. Plus his brother's Hellions, after returning from their trip, had soared from nobodies to winning every game—plus the championship. And what was the reason given for his success? Vitamins and discipline, Ryan had told the press.

Kevin laughed out loud and winced when his side seized up. No way did he believe his brother. His manager and two other mates had died in those mountains. When the team returned, his brother and the entire team needed counseling. Hell, so did Kevin, with everything that had happened and him losing part of his leg. Wonder if a psychiatrist had a two-for-one sale? He smirked.

Two days later, Kevin was moved to a rehab and physical therapy clinic.

A knock sounded on the door, but Kevin didn't bother responding. It had to be a nurse with another pain pill for him to choke down, or worse, the physical therapist who looked like a wrestler in a wig and smelled of methanol.

Time for your treatment, the female wrestler said.

Not today, Brunhilda. I'm too tired. What was the point anyway? Wasn't like he’d heal, or his leg would suddenly start working. Who was he kidding?

You didn't do your session yesterday, either. She frowned. If you don’t do your exercises, how will you keep your strength and get out of bed?

If he had his way, he never would. I will—after another pain pill. Those huge things knocked him out for hours. In his dreams, he had his leg back, and he was whole again. The applause of the crowd rang through his skull, and he missed it more than walking.

All right. Tomorrow, don’t expect your cocky smile to get you out of any more therapy.

I'm looking forward to it. He winked.

She blushed, hurrying from the room. The woman was sixty and stronger than a rhinoceros, but inside, she was a softy.

Tomorrow, he’d try and get up. But today, the weight of not being who he’d been before pressed against his chest like a dozen elephants. If he could move on his own, the clinic would let him go. Then he’d just have to figure what to do with the rest of his life.

Kevin lifted his head, and the room spun and his breakfast churned in his gut. It rose and hit the back of his throat. He leaned over the side of the bed as vomit gushed out. Stupid. Why did he think he could get up and be normal like before, when he couldn’t even get out of bed? Never again would he be the same. Kevin punched the button to call the nurse, and pushed his head back into the pillow and groaned.

Days later, Kevin groaned again when his door swung open after a quick tap, tap, tap.

He frowned. Sorry Brunhilda, not feeling it today.

According to the records, you've not had any sessions for six days, a melodious voice responded and made him snap his head around to see the speaker.

This wasn’t Brunhilda. A thin woman with a soft, round face and bright brown eyes stood in his doorway. Her accent was a mix of Australian and American, rather than the crisp German of his physical therapist. Like she'd moved down under a few years ago and the accent hadn't had time to blend completely.

And you are?

Amber. Your new physical therapist. She flipped through papers tacked to a clipboard.

What happened to my old one? This gal looked so frail and small compared to Brunhilda. How was she going to help him get out of bed? If he fell, they'd both crash to the floor.

Now, let's try sitting up, shall we? She set the papers down on the visitor’s chair, then pressed the button on the side of the bed to make the head raise.

No. What are you doing? The room spun and nausea collided with his stomach.

Okay, should be a good angle for now.

I'm going to be sick. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Really? I only moved the bed up three inches. She laid a hand on his arm and warm tingles spread through him.

What the bloody hell? He looked down where she touched him, expecting her hand to have some device strapped to her that would explain the sensation, but