“Okay, then, let’s get you fixed up. What hurts?”
He tore his gaze away from Lucien to look at me incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be working on him? He’s out, and I’m at least upright. Nobody dosed me with wolfsbane, so I’m pretty sure I’ll heal up eventually.”
Typical alpha male, didn’t want to visit the healer, even if we could help his wolf along.
“I’m sure you will, but an exam will confirm that and tell me if I need to clean any wounds or if you need any herbal assistance. I see a few bloody spots on your shirt. Do you have wounds under there, or is that someone else’s blood?”
He glanced down, shrugged. “It’s mine.”
“That’s what I thought. Can you remove it, or do you need my help?” I arched one eyebrow, wondering how far he’d take the tough-alpha routine.
He snorted indignantly, but I had my answer as I watched him try not to wince as he pulled the shirt off, revealing a bloodied but heavily muscled torso.
My shoulders loosened a little as I examined the various gashes and punctures, some from claws, some from fangs. Regular shifter fighting injuries; no sign of wolfsbane, infection, or other taints. His breathing was clear and even, as were all his vitals.
“Okay, these look pretty straightforward, and as long as this doesn’t hurt.” I pressed over a suspicious-looking rib, and he hissed through his teeth. “Yep, broken rib. I don’t have to bind it, but you’ll need to stay in bed for at least forty-eight hours until your wolf can heal it.”
“I need to report to the high alpha as soon as we’re done here. A binding would be appreciated.”
I nodded, not at all surprised he wanted to jump back on his feet. Most wolves did.
“That’s fine, if that’s what you’d prefer. I’ll get these cleaned up first and then put the binding on, and you’ll be okay to move around. But try not to overdo it, or you’ll be coming back to see me.”
He nodded his agreement, and I went to work.
Gathering wound-cleaning supplies was second nature. Wolves got into a lot of scrapes-literally and metaphorically-so eighty percent of my job was tending flesh wounds, so there were no complications while natural healing did its thing. After I’d gathered what I’d need, including the wrap for his busted rib, I allowed myself to spare a glance for Lucien.
My mate.
The thought shook me to my core as I took in his pallid features, the big, jagged scar forming over his eyebrow and down his cheek. It was angry, scabbed, and puckering in places, but not fresh.
As a wolf, that meant someone who’d know what causes scarring for shifters had done it intentionally. They wanted to bring him low, tear him down. That one would be as much a mental wound as a physical one.
Wolves fought, yes. But we didn’t intentionally maim each other. It was another level of evil that would be a lot harder to heal from internally than externally.
If he survives to find out about it.
I forced myself to turn back to Samuel with a neutral stance, trying to keep my own thoughts and feelings tamped down, safely below the surface and off my face.
As I worked on cleaning the largest gash first, my mind wandered as my hands did the familiar task. Was I imagining the pull toward Lucien’s bed, or was that the first sign of the mate bond?
Had I been pulled toward him back in the castle because of the mate bond, but my own shyness and his disinterest had kept us from discovering it?
We would probably never know.
I blinked, realizing the wounds and blood were all cleaned, and stepped back to drop the used supplies into the trash.
“Okay, lean forward for me as much as you can without tweaking your ribs, and I’ll wrap them.”
Samuel sat himself up straight without complaint, though I was sure that rib hurt. I bound his ribs, putting some extra gauze for padding over the one I suspected was broken. There wasn’t much point x-raying a wolf unless his lungs had problems. Within two days, he’d be fully healed.
“You’re all set. Also, as your healer, I’d like to suggest you report to the high alpha from the bed. He’s four feet away. Let him come to you.” I gave him a pointed look while being careful not to make direct eye contact because of my much lower rank. He had the good sense to look a little abashed at the scolding, so I decided to make it easier on him and called Kane over myself.
“Alpha? He’s ready to make his report, but I’d like him to stay in bed for a few days. Do you mind just talking to him here?”
“Of course.” Kane smiled at me, then walked over to Samuel’s bedside.
They spoke in hushed tones, so I stepped away to give them privacy. There wasn’t far to go without hitting Lucien’s bed.
Part of me wanted to cling to his hand, while the other part knew that it would be crossing a professional line in a big way.
His wolf declaring me his mate wasn’t the same as the man telling me he wanted to date or initiate physical contact beyond his basic care. I would keep it clinical until he woke up so we could talk; that seemed the safest and most ethical way to go about it.
When I stepped up to his bedside, though, the burn in my side from when he’d first grabbed my wrist flared again, and I rocked back on my heels. What the hell was that?
Brielle was still working on him, her eyes screwed shut, and I could see a tiny bit of improvement on the black lines trailing out from his wound, proof that the antidote was starting to work. Making a split-second decision, I excused myself to the small, attached bathroom off the clinic.
It was barely more than a toilet, sink, shower, and a single bare bulb overhead for lighting. But there was a filmy old mirror over the sink, which was all I really needed.
Reaching down to the bottom of my shirt, I lifted it, looking at my hazy reflection to see if there was anything obviously wrong. I could be clumsy sometimes when I was in the zone, so maybe I’d just run into the side of the table without realizing it.
But I didn’t see a scrape or a rash, nothing like a simple bruise from banging my hip against the metal treatment tables.
I saw my mate marks, covering the whole of my side in vibrant red lines. But while most mate marks I’d seen on pack runs were smooth, swirling graceful lines, these were not.
Big, bold, red splashes of color covered my right side, swirls and slashes disappearing up under the edge of my shirt, so I stripped it off to see the rest.
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