Primal Healing

I’m leaning against the clinic’s glass doors, arms crossed, the weight of the pack resting on my shoulders like a second skin. The morning sun glints off the building’s sleek exterior, but I’m not here to admire the architecture. I’m here because my wolf won’t stop pacing under my ribs, restless and alert, as if the world just tilted on its axis. And then I see her.

Dr. Raegan O’Connor.

She moves like she’s walking into a boardroom—polished, poised, every step deliberate. Her tailored blazer hugs her frame just enough to make me notice, but it’s her scent that hits me first. Not just human. Not just wolf. Something in between, something *wrong*, and yet... intriguing. My nostrils flare, and I catch hints of lavender and steel, sharp and clean, but there’s a shadow beneath it all, something wild and untamed she’s trying to bury. My wolf snarls softly in my chest, torn between curiosity and suspicion.

She stops a few feet away, her green eyes meeting mine with a confidence that doesn’t quite reach their depths. “Dr. Collins,” she says, her voice smooth but with a faint tremor she probably thinks I can’t hear. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

I nod once, my gaze raking over her like I’m dissecting a specimen under a microscope. She’s young—too young to have the credentials she claims—but there’s something in the way she holds herself that makes me pause. She’s hiding something. I can smell it on her, taste it in the air between us.

“Dr. O’Connor,” I reply, my tone neutral but edged with a warning she doesn’t miss. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and I catch the flicker of unease in her eyes before she schools her expression back into cool professionalism.

“Call me Raegan,” she says, offering a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Brooks,” I counter, though I don’t offer my hand. Touching her feels like a line I shouldn’t cross—not yet. My wolf growls low in my chest at the thought, and I shove it down with practiced ease.

I motion for her to follow me inside, and she falls into step beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost brush. My senses are on high alert—the faint hitch in her breathing when we pass through the automatic doors, the way her fingers twitch at her sides like she wants to fidget but won’t let herself. She’s nervous, but she’s good at hiding it.

Too good.

The clinic is bustling this early in the morning—nurses hurrying between rooms, patients waiting in the lobby with varying degrees of patience—but I barely register any of it. My focus is entirely on the woman beside me, cataloging every detail: the way her hair falls just so over her shoulder; the faint scar on her left hand that disappears under her sleeve; the way her scent shifts subtly when we pass a patient who smells strongly of wolfsbane.

“Impressive,” Raegan says, her voice smooth but with a sharp edge of curiosity as she takes in the expansive lab. Her green eyes flicker over the rows of gleaming equipment, the holographic displays projecting genetic sequences in vibrant blues and greens, and the sterile white walls that somehow feel alive with possibility. I can’t tell if she’s genuinely impressed or just playing the part. Either way, my wolf doesn’t like it. Or maybe it does. Fuck if I know.

“This is the primary research hub,” I say, gesturing to the lab with a controlled sweep of my hand. My tone is steady, professional, but my wolf is pacing inside me, restless and alert. Her scent—something sharp and clean like ozone after a storm—hits me again, and it’s taking everything in me not to react. “We’re focusing on bridging the gap between human and werewolf biology here. Specifically, targeting genetic disorders that affect our kind.”

She steps closer to one of the displays, her fingers hovering over a projected DNA strand as if she’s itching to touch it. “Lunar Decay Syndrome,” she murmurs, her voice low but filled with intensity. “You’re working on a cure?”

“I wouldn’t call it a cure yet,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest to keep myself from fidgeting. “More like... understanding the mechanisms behind it. The disorder dismantles our supernatural traits systematically—shifting abilities, healing, pack bonds. Traditional remedies don’t work; in fact, they accelerate the deterioration. So we’re trying to find a genetic solution.”

She turns to look at me then, and for a split second, I see something raw in her eyes—pain? Desperation? It’s gone before I can pin it down, replaced by that cool professionalism again. “It’s ambitious,” she says evenly. “But given your resources and reputation, I can see why you’ve made progress.”

I nod, ignoring the way her words make something in my chest tighten. “We have to be careful though.” I lead her toward the next room, my stride purposeful but measured enough that she can keep up without effort. “There’s a fine line between innovation and exposing pack secrets. Not everyone in the supernatural community is thrilled about what we’re doing here.”

She raises an eyebrow as we step into the next area—a smaller lab filled with containment units and monitoring equipment. “You mean the Syndicate?”

The mention of them sends a low growl rumbling in my chest before I can stop it. I clear my throat to cover it up. “Among others,” I say carefully. “They’ve been sniffing around our territory more than usual lately. Trying to get their hands on our research.”

Her gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of guilt in her expression. But it’s gone so fast I convince myself I imagined it. “That must complicate things,” she says lightly.

“You could say that.” My wolf is practically growling now, urging me to press her, to dig deeper into what she knows. But I keep my tone neutral

as I gesture to the security panel beside the door. “This is where it gets serious. Restricted access only. Biometric locks, retinal scans, the whole nine yards.” I punch in my code and lean in for the retinal scan, feeling her eyes on me like a physical weight. The door hisses open, and I step aside to let her in.

The air changes as we cross the threshold—colder, sterile, with a faint undercurrent of ozone from the equipment. The room hums with energy, rows of machines blinking with soft, rhythmic lights. It’s alive in a way that’s almost unsettling.

“This is where we run our most sensitive experiments,” I say, watching her closely. Her eyes dart around the room, taking it all in with a kind of hungry curiosity that makes my wolf prick up its ears. She’s too still, too focused—like she’s memorizing every detail.

She steps forward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Her scent hits me again—something sharp and wild beneath the crisp clean of her perfume. My jaw tightens as the wolf in me stirs, a low growl rumbling in my chest that I force down before it can escape.

“Impressive,” she murmurs, her voice smooth but edged with something I can’t quite place. She moves closer to one of the machines, her fingers hovering just above the surface like she’s afraid to touch it. Or maybe like she’s resisting the urge to tear it apart. “You’ve got tech here that most labs would kill for. Literally.”

I smirk, leaning against the edge of a console, crossing my arms over my chest. “We’re on the cutting edge. Or at least, that’s what we tell the grant committees.” My tone is light, but my eyes never leave her. Every shift of her weight, every flicker of her gaze—it all feels calculated. She’s good. Too good.

Her lips curve into a faint smile, and for a second, I forget why I shouldn’t trust her. She’s gorgeous, yeah, but it’s more than that. There’s a sharpness to her, a kind of raw intelligence that makes my wolf sit up and take notice. It’s dangerous, this pull I feel toward her—like staring into the heart of a storm and wanting to step into the chaos.

“You must have done something right,” she says, turning to face me fully. Her green eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away. “To build something like this. To make it work for both worlds.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my pulse is racing. “Someone had to do it. The old ways aren’t enough anymore.”

She nods slowly, but there’s a flicker of something in her expression—doubt? Guilt? I can’t tell, and it pisses me off that I care enough to try and figure it out.

“And what about you?” she asks suddenly, tilting her head slightly. “What drives you? Is it the science? The power? Or is it something... darker?”

The question catches me off guard, but I recover quickly, flashing her a grin that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”

She doesn’t push further, but I can see the wheels turning in her head. She’s assessing me just as much as I’m assessing her, and it sets my teeth on edge. This is supposed to be my game—my trap—but she’s making me feel like the one who might get caught.

The silence between us stretches taut, filled with unspoken tension and the hum of machinery. Then, like a damn fool, I break it.

“So,” I say casually, pushing off the console and stepping closer to her again. “What brings someone like you to a place like this? You could have your pick of labs anywhere in the world.”

She doesn’t flinch as I invade her space; if anything, she leans in slightly, her green eyes locking onto mine with a sharpness that feels like a challenge. “I could say the same about you,” she counters, her voice soft but laced with steel. “An Alpha with your reputation doesn’t need to run a clinic. You could be leading a pack in some remote wilderness, hunting and howling under the moon like the rest of them. But instead, you’re here. Playing doctor.”

Her words hit like a slap, and my wolf bristles beneath my skin, claws itching to break free. I force it down, tightening my control until I can breathe evenly again. She’s good—too good—and it’s both infuriating and intoxicating.

“I’m not *playing*,” I say, my voice dropping low, almost a growl. “This isn’t some hobby or vanity project. The work we do here—it matters. It’s not just about saving lives. It’s about changing what it means to be a werewolf. To bridge the gap between our world and theirs.” I gesture vaguely toward the window, where the human city sprawls beyond our walls.

She tilts her head, considering me with that same unnerving intensity. “And what about you? What drives you to do it? Is it guilt? Ambition? Or just an insatiable need to prove you’re the best?”

I freeze for a split second, caught off guard by how close she is to the truth. My jaw tightens as I step back, putting some distance between us before I do something stupid—like admit she’s right.

“Maybe it’s all of those things,” I say finally, my tone clipped. “Or maybe I just have the ability at my fingertips to change the world, and I’d be a fool not to use it.”

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s no warmth in it—just calculation. “Fair enough,” she says. “But if you’re looking for someone who shares that drive, who won’t stop until they find answers... then you’ve found her.”

I study her for a long moment, my instincts screaming at me to send her packing while I still can. But beneath that caution is something else—a pull I can’t ignore. My wolf recognizes her in a way I don’t fully understand yet, and despite every alarm bell ringing in my head, I can’t shake the feeling that she belongs here.

“Alright,” I say finally, crossing my arms over my chest. “You want in? Fine. You start tomorrow. But make no mistake, Dr. O’Connor—this isn’t some cushy lab where you can coast on your credentials. You’ll earn your place here every damn day.”

Her smile widens, and this time there’s a flicker of genuine satisfaction in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As she turns to leave, I watch her go with a mix of trepidation and fascination. The sway of her hips is deliberate, her steps confident, but there’s something in the way she holds herself—like she’s walking a tightrope and knows it. My wolf stirs again, a low growl rumbling in my chest. I clench my fists, forcing myself to stay rooted to the spot.

The door clicks shut behind her, and I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. “What the hell are you doing?” I mutter to myself, pacing the length of the room. My instincts are at war—one moment screaming that she’s dangerous, the next insisting she’s exactly what I need.