Chapter 5: Close Quarters

Mara

"Shirt off."

Four men went silent.

I looked around the treatment room. "What?"

Cassian's mouth twitched. Kieran stared at me. Rhett looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant. Torin had suddenly developed a deep interest in the cabinets.

I sighed. "For medical purposes."

"That clarification somehow made it worse," Cassian said.

"Would you like to leave?"

"No."

"Then shut up."

Kieran reached for the hem of the ridiculous golden retriever sweatshirt. And suddenly I regretted every decision that had led me here. Because last night he'd been a wolf. This morning he'd been naked, but I'd been too busy having an existential crisis to really process the naked part.

Now? Now I was processing it. Unfortunately.

The sweatshirt came over his head. Oh. Well. Fuck. Apparently turning into a wolf required abdominal muscles. Lots of them. His shoulders were broad, his chest covered in a light dusting of dark hair, and there were scars scattered across his torso that definitely hadn't come from yesterday. One ran beneath his ribs. Another crossed his left side. There were smaller ones along his arms.

My eyes lingered approximately half a second too long.

Kieran noticed. His eyebrow lifted.

I snapped on a pair of gloves. "Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I wasn't."

"Your face was."

Cassian coughed suspiciously. I pointed toward the hallway. "Out."

His expression fell. "What?"

"I need approximately five minutes without commentary from the peanut gallery."

"I can be quiet."

"No, you can't."

Torin grabbed Cassian's shoulder and started steering him toward the door. Rhett followed willingly. Traitorously, Cassian called back, "Call if he bites!"

Kieran's eyes closed. The door shut. Silence. Wonderful. So much better.

Except now I was alone with a shirtless werewolf. Fantastic planning, Mara.

I cleared my throat. "Sit on the table."

His eyes opened. There was amusement there. "Again?"

"Do you want me to say please?"

"No."

"Then sit."

He did. I grabbed sterile saline and gauze from the cabinet. "I'm going to check the incision, clean away the dried blood, make sure nothing opened when you decided walking around after nearly bleeding to death was an excellent idea."

"I feel fine."

"Wonderful." I moved closer. "That doesn't tell me what your skin is doing."

The wound sat high along his right shoulder, exactly where I remembered it beneath all that black fur. Except looking at it on human skin was still messing with my head. I gently removed the loose dressing. The incision looked... actually really fucking good. I frowned.

Kieran noticed. "What?"

"Nothing yet."

"That sounded reassuring."

"The edges are still together. No obvious drainage. Minimal swelling." I leaned closer. There was dried blood near the lower sutures, but less inflammation than I would expect after only a few hours. A lot less. "Does this hurt?"

I pressed gently beside the wound.

"No."

I moved closer to the incision. His entire body went rigid. I immediately stopped. "There?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

I looked up. "Kieran."

"It doesn't hurt."

"You just tensed."

"Not because of pain."

I paused. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"That usually means something."

He didn't answer. His eyes had changed. Not completely. But there was suddenly more gold in them. Brighter. Sharper. I slowly pulled my hand away.

"Did I trigger something?"

His gaze dropped to my hand. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because the last time your eyes did that, you grew claws."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm not going to grow claws."

I went back to cleaning the dried blood. Carefully. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips. Too warm? Maybe not. I had absolutely no baseline for werewolf-human body temperature. Another item for the increasingly concerning mental list titled: Questions I Never Thought I'd Have to Ask.

I pressed gently along the edge again. Kieran inhaled sharply. I stopped. "There."

"No."

"Then why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Acting like I'm poking you with a cattle prod."

His gaze lifted to mine. For some reason, neither of us moved. I was standing between his knees. When the hell had that happened? Probably when I leaned closer to examine the wound. Perfectly normal positioning. Completely clinical. Except there was nothing particularly clinical about the way he was looking at me.

His eyes dropped. Not far. Just enough. My mouth.

Oh.

My stomach did something stupid. Absolutely not.

I stepped back. Kieran's hand moved. For one strange second, I thought he was going to reach for me. He stopped himself. His fingers curled against his thigh.

Okay. Interesting.

I cleared my throat. "Your incision looks good."

"Good."

"Suspiciously good."

His eyebrow rose. "For a human."

"There it is."

"What?"

"The human qualifier."

"Well, forgive me for not having comparative healing data on werewolves."

"You're irritated by that."

"I'm fascinated by it." The words came out before I could stop them.

Kieran went quiet. I looked back at his shoulder. "Last night, that tissue was traumatized. I debrided damaged areas, removed the bullet, irrigated the wound, and closed it. There should be more inflammation than this."

"It heals faster."

"I noticed. How much faster?"

He shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Too many things."

I stared at him. "That is the least satisfying answer you could possibly give a veterinarian."

He smiled. And God, that was... nope. Medical. We were doing medical things.

I grabbed a fresh dressing. "You probably don't need this if your healing keeps progressing like this, but the sweatshirt will rub directly against the incision. I'd rather protect it until you get wherever you're going."

He let me secure the light dressing. "No soaking it. Keep it clean. If it starts bleeding again, opens, becomes increasingly painful, or you start feeling weak or short of breath, you need someone to look at it."

"My healers will."

My hands stopped. "Your what?"

"Healers."

I slowly looked up. "You have healers?"

"Yes."

"Like doctors?"

"Not exactly."

"Veterinarians?"

"No."

"Surgeons?"

His smile returned. "Mara."

"What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like you want to dissect me."

I gasped. "I do not want to dissect you."

His eyebrow rose.

I considered it. "Maybe a little."

He laughed. The sound surprised me. Warm. Deep. And completely different from the man who had made the entire reception room go silent with one word.

I stepped back and pulled off my gloves. "Done."

Kieran reached for his sweatshirt. For some ridiculous reason, disappointment flickered through me. I immediately murdered it.

He pulled the shirt back on. Golden retriever party hat and all. Much safer.

"Thank you," he said.

I blinked. The humor was gone from his voice. "You already thanked me."

"No." His eyes held mine. "I didn't."

Something in my chest tightened. He looked toward his shoulder. "For last night."

I swallowed. "You were my patient."

"You didn't know me."

"I didn't need to."

His gaze stayed on me for another second. Long enough to make the room feel strangely small. Then I ruined it. Obviously.

"Besides, letting you die would've been terrible for my Yelp reviews."

His mouth curved. He stood. This time without swaying. Good. Very good.

Kieran headed toward the door before stopping beside me. Close. Too close.

"Goodbye, Mara."

I looked up at him. "Try not to get shot again."

"I'll do my best."

"And no licking the incision."

Silence. My eyes widened. "Oh my God."

His smile became downright wicked. "I wasn't planning to."

"I forgot you're not currently a dog."

"Wolf."

"Get out."

He laughed as he opened the door. And I stood there listening to it disappear down the hallway. For some reason, the treatment room felt quieter without him.

I hated that. Almost as much as I hated the fact that I was already wondering when I'd see him again.