stared down at his unconscious mate.
The first time she’d been on this table, he had been
X-raying her sprained ankle after the cougar—after Tommy —had ambushed
her. Back then, Alex had been so turned on by her scent that it had taken all
of his willpower to control his urges. That day—and those feelings—suddenly
seemed like a fading dream.
Alex found a post-op warming blanket in one of the cabinets
beside the operating table and spread it out over his patient. Wrapping his
fingers around her wrist as if checking her pulse, he waited for the familiar
tug of longing he always felt when they touched. Its absence was jarring.
Gently placing Gwen’s hand back on the table, Alex rubbed
his forehead. He tried to convince himself that the stress of the situation was
short-circuiting his emotions, but he feared it was something more permanent.
It seemed that the instant Jenny had sunk her teeth into Gwen, everything had
changed.
The best he could hope for was that this change in his
feelings for Gwen was some sort of purgatory—a limbo between her life as a
human and that as a werewolf. Perhaps the old feelings would rekindle once
she’d been inducted into the pack.
On his next pass, Sergei sheepishly poked his head in the
room. “How bad is it?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, the alpha held no
anger toward his predecessor. Sergei couldn’t be held responsible for the
actions of his mate and Alex felt that he owed him a straight answer. “Bad,” he
said simply.
Sergei slumped against the doorjamb. “Will she die?” he
asked.
“No, but she’s going to have a tough go of it. If Tommy hadn’t—”
Clearing his throat he looked back at Sergei. “It could have
been worse.”
Jeremiah rose and crossed to the operating room sink. He had
refused gloves and when he held his hands under the faucet, the water turned
pink with Gwen’s blood. Meeting Alex then Sergei’s gaze in turn he jerked his
head for them to follow. The three men left Tommy to his healing and walked
down the hall to the employee lunchroom.
Alex rooted around in the cupboard above the break-room
fridge and found a bottle of whiskey. He snagged three stained coffee mugs from
the dish drainer and joined the other two men at the laminate table. They each
took a shot and waited for refills before anyone spoke.
Jeremiah was the first to break the silence. “Are you
certain the attack took place after moon rise?”
Alex pulled his cellphone from his pocket, brought up the
call log and tapped the time-stamped entry beside Gwen’s name. “Positive,” he
said.
The shaman glanced at the screen then nodded. “Well, that’s
a break. She won’t shift until the next lunar cycle. It will give her time to
heal.”
“And?” Alex prodded.
“And give us time to find someone to take her place as human
consort. But, Alex, we’ve got to be realistic. We’re probably going to have to
borrow someone from another pack or even transport her to another enclave. It’s
not very likely that she’s going to meet her first moon in our sacred cave.”
“Oh shit!” Alex blurted then slapped his hand against his
forehead. “Charlie Kerrigan is still locked up in the fledgling cell.”
Alex scrolled through his contact list and selected Tiny
Wainwright’s number. The pack’s tattoo artist not only lived nearest the sacred
cave, he was also one of the most levelheaded wolves Alex had ever met. He
answered on the first ring and listened silently to Alex’s instructions. Tiny was
to grab Gwen’s keys from the book basket beside her chair, release Charlie, get
him something to eat, then keep an eye on him and await further instructions.
“Looks like we don’t have a full cycle to find a temporary
consort,” Alex said.
While Sergei and Jeremiah looked on, Alex made calls. The
alphas from two neighboring packs said their consorts were already tied up with
fledglings.
A third insisted that he’d be happy to help, but his human had
gone on
The first time she’d been on this table, he had been
X-raying her sprained ankle after the cougar—after Tommy —had ambushed
her. Back then, Alex had been so turned on by her scent that it had taken all
of his willpower to control his urges. That day—and those feelings—suddenly
seemed like a fading dream.
Alex found a post-op warming blanket in one of the cabinets
beside the operating table and spread it out over his patient. Wrapping his
fingers around her wrist as if checking her pulse, he waited for the familiar
tug of longing he always felt when they touched. Its absence was jarring.
Gently placing Gwen’s hand back on the table, Alex rubbed
his forehead. He tried to convince himself that the stress of the situation was
short-circuiting his emotions, but he feared it was something more permanent.
It seemed that the instant Jenny had sunk her teeth into Gwen, everything had
changed.
The best he could hope for was that this change in his
feelings for Gwen was some sort of purgatory—a limbo between her life as a
human and that as a werewolf. Perhaps the old feelings would rekindle once
she’d been inducted into the pack.
On his next pass, Sergei sheepishly poked his head in the
room. “How bad is it?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, the alpha held no
anger toward his predecessor. Sergei couldn’t be held responsible for the
actions of his mate and Alex felt that he owed him a straight answer. “Bad,” he
said simply.
Sergei slumped against the doorjamb. “Will she die?” he
asked.
“No, but she’s going to have a tough go of it. If Tommy hadn’t—”
Clearing his throat he looked back at Sergei. “It could have
been worse.”
Jeremiah rose and crossed to the operating room sink. He had
refused gloves and when he held his hands under the faucet, the water turned
pink with Gwen’s blood. Meeting Alex then Sergei’s gaze in turn he jerked his
head for them to follow. The three men left Tommy to his healing and walked
down the hall to the employee lunchroom.
Alex rooted around in the cupboard above the break-room
fridge and found a bottle of whiskey. He snagged three stained coffee mugs from
the dish drainer and joined the other two men at the laminate table. They each
took a shot and waited for refills before anyone spoke.
Jeremiah was the first to break the silence. “Are you
certain the attack took place after moon rise?”
Alex pulled his cellphone from his pocket, brought up the
call log and tapped the time-stamped entry beside Gwen’s name. “Positive,” he
said.
The shaman glanced at the screen then nodded. “Well, that’s
a break. She won’t shift until the next lunar cycle. It will give her time to
heal.”
“And?” Alex prodded.
“And give us time to find someone to take her place as human
consort. But, Alex, we’ve got to be realistic. We’re probably going to have to
borrow someone from another pack or even transport her to another enclave. It’s
not very likely that she’s going to meet her first moon in our sacred cave.”
“Oh shit!” Alex blurted then slapped his hand against his
forehead. “Charlie Kerrigan is still locked up in the fledgling cell.”
Alex scrolled through his contact list and selected Tiny
Wainwright’s number. The pack’s tattoo artist not only lived nearest the sacred
cave, he was also one of the most levelheaded wolves Alex had ever met. He
answered on the first ring and listened silently to Alex’s instructions. Tiny was
to grab Gwen’s keys from the book basket beside her chair, release Charlie, get
him something to eat, then keep an eye on him and await further instructions.
“Looks like we don’t have a full cycle to find a temporary
consort,” Alex said.
While Sergei and Jeremiah looked on, Alex made calls. The
alphas from two neighboring packs said their consorts were already tied up with
fledglings.
A third insisted that he’d be happy to help, but his human had
gone on
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