Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Wolf’s Bullied Mate Chapter 17

Isaiah

Three other shifters filed into the small conference room and skimmed the coffee and donuts available on the plastic foldout table. Dr. Mercer was apparently a partner in business with another crane psychologist-though I didn't really care for the details on what kind of partners they were. It didn't matter to me at all as long as I got something out of this. Jada had recommended it. Troy had backed the plan. Blake had added his support to the bunch.

I was trapped as much as I was free to do as I pleased.

Chairs creaked as the three shifters got cozy. The one on the left had black hair and a tawny golden tan with brown eyes. I could sense he was a boar. Beside him on the right was a golden-haired lion shifter with chestnut eyes and olive brown skin with velvet undertones. The last of the trio was a bull shifter who was bulky and barely got his a*s situated on his chair. His dark red hair and steely black eyes pierced me as he slurped a coffee. Light tan skin like suede leather told me he worked outside pretty much all the time.

A boar, a lion, and a bull-that was what they were, respectively. I couldn't say I was surprised to find those shifters here in an anger management therapy session. With a crane, of all shifters. That just made me want to bark with laughter.

But when Dr. Mercer walked into the room, my spine relaxed and my shoulders dropped from my ears. He couldn't have been older than fifty but he had youthful blue eyes as rich as sapphires and a gentle grin that doubled the wrinkles around his mouth. Pale peach skin was threaded with age-stretch marks from shifting so much during his life-and blond hair specked with white receded slightly on his head.

I wasn't surprised by his athletic build. Shifters didn't age like humans. We were prone to the stretch marks from years of changing, but we held ourselves well. Our strength was natural and many of us wanted to retain that through old age, so we worked out. Much like Dr. Mercer here and his pals who were each munching on a donut with controlled motions.

Jada was right about Dr. Mercer being tall. He would have been gangly without the muscle, and he wasn't wearing what I would have normally noticed on a psychologist. He wore loose cotton gym shorts and a v-neck shirt that revealed a silver braided chain around his neck. In his hands was a clipboard and a pencil. Now that was something I definitely expected from a shrink.

However much or little he met my mental expectations of a psychologist, he was kind. I felt that energy billow through the room like warm sunlight as he wandered to a chair and sat down, crossing one long leg over the other.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said softly. "Glad you could join us tonight. We have a newcomer with us."

I arched my right brow.

That would be me. "Hi, what's up?"

The other three men nodded in recognition of me even though they had gotten their stares in while the good psychologist wasn't here.

Hell, they were still staring. They were probably trying to figure out my whole deal.

Dr. Mercer smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling up and disappearing beyond the mirthful expression. "Let's begin with our names and what we're feeling today."

That couldn't have been more boring. By the gods, I didn't care about how these men felt. I just wanted to know what I could do to control my anger.

Yet the longer I sat in the room with them, the more I felt connected to them. The boar was far more interesting in his sharing, as he had a secret love for crochet that he thought would get him judged. Dr. Mercer encouraged him to bring the crochet items to the next therapy session in a few days to try it out in a safe place.

A safe place, I thought. Is that why I don't feel nervous anymore?

When the question of my name and feelings landed on me, I stared at the door. There was the panic I had assumed would come eventually. It felt like my heart was about to explode and spatter blood all over the room.

A hand rested on my shoulder. It should have startled me but instead felt...nice.

That wasn't a word I was accustomed to using.

The boar-Steve was his name-offered me a supportive look. "You talk when you're ready, brother."

"I'm ready."

He redacted his hand and remained seated next to me.

I glanced at the others, unsure of what to say. So, I shrugged. "I'm Isaiah. Izzy to friends. And lovers, evidently." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I feel nervous."

"That's valid," Dr. Mercer assured. "Is there anything else you're feeling?"

"Uh..." I frowned at my hands. "Hungry. Tired. Nervous."

Dr. Mercer nodded with an encouraging look. "I'm glad you're tuning in to what you're feeling. Most people try to ignore it."

"I've got the experience," I grumbled. "Been going to recovery meetings for like five years. I talk about feelings in there sometimes. But it's not like... therapy. It doesn't teach me how to control my anger. It just tells me what's causing my anger." "You can always take what you need and leave the rest here too," Dr. Mercer stated confidently.

I focused on him, recognizing that phrase from the recovery rooms I had missed for the past month. "Yeah, that's...well, that's good news."

"We're glad to have you here. Is there anything else you want to share?"

"I guess I'm just looking for ways to be better. My mate recommended this place. She's got a good head on her shoulders. I want to be cool like that too. Isn't that the goal of mates, yeah?"

Some nods. The lion looked confused. Mostly, the men were supportive of what I said. Perhaps the lion wasn't used to the whole mating thing.

"Anyway," I said, anxiety prickling the back of my neck. "I'm here."

And that was the end of that. My little speech was welcomed easily. It wasn't picked apart. It wasn't cast off. It just was. The men around me were far more accommodating than anyone I had met outside of the Bravecrest pack. Other than the Haydens. Other than

Jada.

Jada.

The thought of her warmed me up, eased my tension, and made it easier to lean into the conversation with the others. After ten minutes, Dr. Mercer guided us into a meditation to help us gain a sense of our senses. Meditation was something I used to do back before the kidnapping fiasco.

How much of my life had been turned upside down by Dr. Myrtle?

And why the hell had I never noticed it until now?

Anger returned in swelling tides. It washed through me and filtered out like I was a sponge. Feeling it didn't hurt as much as it had a month or so ago. To think that I could have a thriving life without so much anger holding me down fueled me at the end of the session, sending me out to the Jeep I had borrowed from Jada and to the nearest jewelry store.

It was a long shot, but I wanted to see if they had anything in my budget.

***

Home felt more like home than ever. Since arriving at the ranch with my surviving alpha and two pack members, I hadn't envisioned it as a place where I could rest. Sunrises came and went. Sunsets capped each day like the appropriate lid for a jar. Yet all of those encounters were routine, standard, regular things to do.

They didn't feel invigorating. They just felt like things.

But when I was with Jada-when she was in my arms, or her hand was rubbing my lumbar-those things weren't things at all. They were magnificent reminders of the way the earth kept rotating on its axis regardless of what happened in between orbits around the sun. Nature proceeded by way of process. It wasn't a matter of right or wrong.

That was the way I wanted to go through life, through seasons. I wanted to roll with the punches more than anything. I just hadn't been sure how, until I'd walked into that therapy session and heard those men speak.

Life existed beyond my anger. It was nice to hear that from someone.

Nice. And not even as a joke. Just nice.

Like Jada.

I darted up the condo steps after I parked and lunged into the house, not bothering to close the door. The kitchen smelled of pine. A more heavenly scent couldn't have possibly greeted my nose unless it was mocha.

And there she was, with gloves on her hands, her hair tucked up, a bandana catching the sweat on her forehead. She gave me a soft grin that asked about the session without truly asking. It made me feel good to know that she wanted to know. How good it felt to feel those things.

I scooped her into my arms. She squeaked and then giggled uncontrollably as I swung her around the kitchen. "Nice. So nice."

"So dizzying," she claimed while the chuckles bubbled from her gut. What a glorious sound to hear in this kitchen that I had slaved over cleaning for so long. "I take it things went well-Izzy, I am dizzy. Put me down!"

The laughter never left her tone. Amused chortles followed when I set her on the ground. She grabbed my elbow to steady herself, teetering slightly from being woozy. I couldn't help myself. She made me feel so alive. "I'm ready," I blurted. "I'm tired of holding back because of fear. I'm ready, Jada."

She stood silently for a second as her fingers trailed over my forearms. The teetering ceased. Her eyes widened. "Ready for what?"

"Ready to be yours."

Alright, so I wasn't the best at expressing my feelings. Talking about sobriety and talking about emotions were still categorically two different things to me. I hadn't yet figured out what I was going to say-but none of that mattered when I had a ring in my pocket and hope in my heart.

I took a knee. Naturally, Jada stepped back with a gasp. She pulled off her gloves and covered her mouth while she made a choking sound like she was trying not to cry.

"Just one session has put so much into perspective," I said as I rested a hand on my knee and bowed my head. "I knew that shit affected me. I knew I was f****d in the head the moment I ran out those doors after one of your members. I knew when I got back that life would be bleak for a while."

She reached for my shoulder. Millions of bolts zapped my muscles and urged me to relax. That was her. That was what she did to me.

"I thought your alpha was a pompous ass. I thought your members were stuck-up and full of themselves." I looked at her. "I thought you were a prudish bitch until we banged."

She half-laughed, half-sobbed and rested her hand on her throat. A tear rolled down her cheek. Instinct drove me to wipe it away. I didn't want her to cry, but I also didn't want her to hide anything.

"You were just so sure of yourself," I continued. "Firm, confident, gorgeous. Gods. I didn't know if I wanted to shove you into the ocean or shove my dick inside you."

"Those sure are some colorful feelings, Izzy."

I chuckled nervously. "I'm not sure what I'm saying."

Shaky fingers scraped my scalp. I was shaking. It was me. Her hand still rested on my shoulder with all the assurance on the planet. And then some. "It's okay." "I'm trying."

"I love that you're trying. I'm here for it."

I drew a sharp breath. "One session was all it took to make me really think."

"Imagine what several more might do."

"You helped me."

She started to shake her head and then stopped when I took her other hand.

"Come on, Jada. Don't be too humble. You had a hand in this," I whispered. "You had a hand in a lot of things. You really stood up to me when I was being awful to you. You..."

She cupped my cheek. Billions of cells responded in kind with a quivering triumph. "I know."

"I know you know."

"Are you proposing to me, Izzy?"

I smiled viciously. "You bet your as I am."

She hiccupped as her eyes reddened and tears appeared. I knew they were coming. My baby was a sensitive woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. She wasn't ashamed of her emotions. That was inspiring for a man like me who hid everything behind beer, babes, and bottles of pills.

Though that was the old life. This was the new. And with it, I wanted to create something beautiful.

She rubbed her stomach. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything right this second." I plucked the small box from my pocket and popped it open. "It's not much, but..."

Her eyes shimmered as she took the box from my hand. "Izzy, it's gorgeous."

Diamonds weren't exactly my style. I got the feeling Jada wasn't that warped either. So, I'd picked a simple gold band with a geometric design holding three rubies. Something to match everything else that she wore. Something to complement her. Just like I wanted to complement her.

She bit her lower lip bashfully as she plucked it from the box and slid it over her finger. I didn't want to stand just yet. I didn't think she had an answer in mind.

What if she says no? Damn it, I couldn't think like that. I couldn't afford the doubt. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

Jada looked at me. She tossed the box aside and cupped my face. She stroked my cheeks with her thumbs while her smile grew exponentially.

"I can't believe you just proposed to me," she whispered. "And I can't believe I'm saying yes."

Stars danced in my peripheral vision as I swept Jada up and around again. The world blurred. The ground below gave way. When I hit the tile, I was laughing maniacally, as awful and loud as that jerk of a doctor who ran experiments on me. Jada collapsed on top of me. She was laughing too..

Yeah, that was definitely a sound I could get used to hearing in this kitchen.