Chapter 3: Alpha

Mara

"For the love of God, put some fucking clothes on."

The werewolf looked down at himself, then back at me, like somehow I was the one being unreasonable.

"I didn't exactly bring any."

"You had fur."

Tessa made a choking noise behind me. His golden eyes narrowed.

"This is amusing to you?"

"Not to me." I pointed behind myself. "She's having a wonderful fucking morning."

"I really am," Tessa admitted.

I rubbed both hands down my face. No. Nope. This was fine. Completely normal. Every veterinarian eventually discovered one of her patients was actually a naked man, probably covered it somewhere between pharmacology and parasitology. I'd just been absent that day.

"Tessa, find him something to wear."

"Scrubs?"

"Unless you happen to have men's jeans hiding in the vaccine refrigerator."

She disappeared. The man shifted inside Kennel Seven, and I immediately noticed the wince. My brain switched tracks before I could stop it.

"Don't do that."

He looked at me. "What?"

"That."

"I moved."

"You pulled your shoulder."

"I'm fine."

My eye twitched. There it was, the universal mating call of every male patient, apparently. Human or otherwise.

"I watched your blood pressure spend most of last night trying to introduce itself to the floor."

His brow furrowed. "I heal quickly."

"Fantastic." I pointed toward his shoulder. "My stitches apparently don't."

He glanced at the incision. That was another thing my brain was struggling with. I had stitched that wound beneath thick black fur. Now it sat across a human shoulder, same placement, same sutures, even the same little doubled stitch near the bottom where the tissue had kept pulling apart.

Every time I looked at it, my brain whispered wolf, then man, then what the fuck.

Tessa came back carrying black scrub pants and a gray clinic sweatshirt. "Best I could do."

She tossed them toward him. He caught the pants, then looked at the sweatshirt. Cartoon golden retrievers covered it, each one wearing a tiny party hat. He stared at me.

"No."

I folded my arms. "You currently have your dick wrapped in a veterinary blanket."

His jaw tightened. "The dogs are not negotiable."

Tessa turned away when he stood. I did too...  mostly. Doctor. Professional. Definitely not noticing anything. Nope. I stared aggressively at the wall.

"Tell me when the penis situation has been resolved."

A pause. "Resolved."

I turned around. The scrub pants were several inches too short. The sweatshirt stretched across his shoulders, a golden retriever in a pink party hat sitting directly over his chest. I pressed my lips together.

His eyes narrowed. "Say it."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking it."

"You look very festive."

Tessa snorted. He growled and my hand moved instinctively toward the counter, toward the muzzle. I stopped halfway. He noticed. 

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"I almost muzzled you."

His eyebrows lifted.

"I'm sorry. You growled."

"I'm a wolf."

"You're currently wearing pants."

"That does not change what I am."

"It changes whether I'm legally allowed to put a muzzle on you."

Tessa leaned against the wall. "This is the best shift I've ever worked."

"Go inventory something."

"No."

I sighed. The werewolf stepped out of the kennel, and immediately my attention dropped to his feet, then his posture, then the slight sway.

"Sit."

He stopped. His gaze lifted slowly to mine. I froze. Tessa covered her mouth. I closed my eyes.

"I did not mean that the way it sounded."

"You told me to sit."

"I spent six hours treating you as a canine."

"Wolf."

"Do not start."

His mouth twitched. "You also told me to stay last night."

"Because you were trying to stand while actively hemorrhaging."

"And now?"

"Now I'm asking you to sit because you're swaying."

That wiped some of the amusement from his face. He glanced toward the chair. I softened my voice.

"You lost a lot of blood."

He sat. Voluntarily, which I appreciated, because I really didn't want this turning into some bizarre dominance contest. I stepped closer.

"Can I check your incision?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You already have."

"When you were unconscious and considerably hairier."

That mouth twitch again. "Fine."

I moved the sweatshirt aside carefully. The wound looked better than it had any right to, no active bleeding, minimal swelling, edges still approximated. I touched the skin around it.

"Pain?"

"No."

I pressed slightly closer to the incision. His jaw tightened. I looked up.

"That means yes."

"It's manageable."

"Good enough."

I stepped back. No redness. No obvious discharge. No reopened sutures. Still.

"This healing rate isn't normal."

"For you."

"Correct. For me. And dogs. And wolves. And pretty much every mammal I have ever put stitches into."

"You'll adjust."

I stared at him. "That is an incredibly confident assumption."

He almost smiled. I pointed toward his face.

"Open your mouth."

Now he definitely looked amused. "No."

"I want to check your gums."

"My gums?"

"You nearly died from blood loss."

"I didn't die."

"Congratulations. Open."

He stared at me. I stared back. Finally, he opened his mouth. I leaned closer and pulled his lower lip down. Pink, much better than last night.

"Good."

He looked offended. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You looked pleased."

"I am. Your perfusion is better."

"English."

"Your body has blood in it again."

"I gathered."

I released his lip, then stopped, slowly, because I had just checked the gums of a grown man the same way I'd check a Labrador. Tessa was shaking silently behind him. I pointed at her.

"If you laugh, you're fired."

"I'm not laughing."

"You're vibrating."

"I'm processing."

The werewolf glanced between us. "Are all veterinarians like this?"

"No," Tessa said immediately. "She's special."

"Fuck you."

"Love you."

I grabbed the blood pressure cuff. His eyes dropped to it.

"What now?"

"Blood pressure."

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I am."

"Then prove it." I held the cuff out. "If your blood pressure is stable, your heart rate looks good, you can stand without nearly falling over, and you're not actively bleeding, I have significantly fewer reasons to complain if you decide to leave."

That seemed to catch him off guard. "You'd let me leave?"

I frowned. "You're an adult."

His eyebrow rose. "As of about twenty minutes ago."

"You know what I mean." I wrapped the cuff around his arm. "I can tell you what I medically recommend. I'm not chaining you to the exam table."

Tessa glanced toward the kennel. "We do technically have chains."

I looked at her.

She shrugged. The machine inflated. The werewolf watched it suspiciously.

"It squeezes."

"I noticed."

"Try not to fight it."

"I'm not."

"You're flexing."

His arm relaxed. Barely. The machine beeped. I read the numbers.

"Better."

"Told you."

"Better is not the same as perfect."

"But?"

"But I'm no longer expecting you to collapse dramatically and make me ruin another pair of shoes."

He stood. Slower this time. No sway. Good. Annoyingly good. I folded my arms.

"So."

"So?"

"What's your name?"

He went still. I blinked.

"I stitched you back together, watched you turn from a wolf into a naked man, checked your gums like a German shepherd, and gave you my emergency scrubs. I feel like we're past stranger status."

A pause. Then... "Kieran."

"Kieran."

"Yes."

I nodded. "Okay."

"That's all?"

"What did you expect? A treat?"

His lips twitched. Three loud knocks hit the clinic's front door, and Kieran's entire demeanor changed instantly. His shoulders squared. His eyes sharpened. The teasing disappeared.

Tessa looked toward reception. "You expecting someone?"

Kieran didn't answer immediately. Another knock, harder this time, and then a man's voice carried through the glass.

"Kieran!"

He exhaled. "Yes."

"Friends?"

"My pack."

I stared at him. "Your what?"

Before he could answer, Tessa had already reached the front. Three men stood outside, all enormous, because apparently whatever supernatural bullshit created werewolves also hated average-sized men. I unlocked the door.

The first man shoved through, his face tight with worry. His eyes landed on Kieran, and relief flashed across his features. Then he stopped. Looked at the golden-retriever sweatshirt. Looked at me. Looked back at Kieran.

The man behind him lowered his head. "Alpha."

Silence.

I slowly turned toward my patient. Kieran closed his eyes. I stared at him, then at the men, then back at him.

"Alpha?"

Tessa whispered behind me. "Oh, shit."

I pointed at Kieran. "You're an Alpha?"

He opened his eyes. "Yes."

"Like… their Alpha?"

"Yes."

I looked at the giant werewolf standing in my clinic wearing scrub pants and a party-hat golden retriever across his chest. Then I rubbed both hands over my face.

"Of fucking course you are."