The Alpha's Crown

The small cozy clinic was quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your ears until you almost imagine the building breathing with you. I'd stayed late-again.

I sigh looking at the paperwork that had stacked up on my desk, ever since my staff were on medical leave.

Chicken Nugget, my dog who I dare say is a heavily spoilt bernese mix was stretched out on his favourite rug like an attendant who had long since given up. His tail thumped lazily whenever I looked at him.

"You're lucky you don't have to do tax forms," I muttered, tapping my pen against the desk thinking of the upcoming planned surgeries coinciding with the shortage of staff.

He gave a soft whine, which I believe is the canine version of an eye roll, then suddenly lifted his head, ears twitching.

This lazy stack of potatoes was only ever curious for troublesome things, but before I could react, he bounded to the door.

"Chicken, no-"

Too late. The door swung on its hinge as his nose shoved it open and the cold night air swept in, carrying the scent of damp leaves. My heart lurched as he darted into the dark, very quickly disappearing from sight beyond the clinic's lights.

I followed barefoot, unable to find my footwear with my pulse hammering. The building' back lot opened to eriee woodland, and though often we partook on leisure walks through this very path under the safety of daylight, at night it was entirely another creature-shadows overlapping, branches like skeletal arms, with only the moon offering a cover of scattered light.

"Chicken Nugget!" My voice cracked with dread over his nonsense of a name. "Come back!"

Then I saw him, partially hidden behind a tree with his head bowed and back straining as if trying to drag something heavy. "Chicken Nugget what are you doing?" I rushed over yelling.

The closer I drew, the larger the tail held in his clasped mouth became. "Drop it!" I commanded at my stubborn mutt, who I took great pains to train while my stomach dropped.

It was a wolf-black-furred, massive, his body limp and streaked with blood.

"Oh my god..."

Chicken Nugget barked once, urgent, then looked at me as if demanding I do something, and for the first time showing favour for a wildlife he had come across. But every instinct screamed danger.

Wolves in this area wasn't unheard of. Still, this close-this vulnerable, it could be rabid, or worse. Yet the doctor in me couldn't look away from the gash tearing across his flank, the way his breath came in shallow, wheezing pulls.

"I must be insane," I whispered, but I bent down anyway. "You are insane." I complained to Chicken Nugget who had stepped away.

The wolf's fur was matted, blood thick beneath my fingers, and so warm it startled me. He was too huge for his species, I wondered letting my hand brush his neck.

His eyes suddenly flickered open and I fell back onto my burr before scrambling to my feet with hands flaying around to get a hold of Chicken Nugget's beaded collar.

"Easy easy." I say to the unmoving animal, it's eyes open and lazer focused on us with an intensity that made me freeze and my dog shuffle on his feet.

Crimson were it's eyes, so blood red that I couldn't differentiate between beautiful and dangerous.

The look was fleeting, his lids fluttered shut again, but it left my skin tingling as if I'd touched an electric wire.

Chicken Nugget broke free and began to nudge insistently. And after minutes of consideration and very few points on rationality brought back a wide platform trolley from the clinic. Injecting the still unconscious animal with a sedative I heaved him upon it, sweat breaking across my brow from the sheer weight of him. 

Once on the treatment table, the reality hit me: I was about to stitch up a predator that could shred me to ribbons if he woke angry. So straps of fiber were bound around his limbs, and settled with a makeshift leash restraint around his mouth when the muzzles avilable proved to be too small.

Fear made me lock Chicken Nugget outside the OT door much against his protests. Still, the rhythm of medicine steadied me. 

Gloves on. Instruments sterilized. Saline flush. I'd done this a thousand times before, I told myself.

My hands moved with familiar precision.

But every time I leaned close, I felt his breath on my arm, warm, alive.

When I pressed gauze to the wound, his muscles twitched, and his head lolled toward me. Suture needle still in hand a sickening feeling filled my chest when realising the sedative was wearing off.

A rumble escaped it's chest, not quite a growl, not quite a groan. It slid over me like heat, making my breath catch.

"Easy," I murmured, my voice soft with the same familiarity with which I treat my favourite four legged patients. Only this time my expression did not match my tone.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The head slumped in fatigue and in my peripheral view saw Chicken Nugget clawing uncharacteristically at the glass door, tail wagging nervously, as if sensing something I didn't.

I cleaned, stitched, wrapped as fast as I could, giving overwhelming trust on the bounds.

The wound wasn't fresh; it looked like claws had torn through him, maybe another animal, maybe something I didn't want to imagine. The strange part was how quickly the torn skin tried to knit beneath my sutures, as if his body didn't want to wait for healing.

"That's... impossible," I whispered, staring as the edges drew faintly tighter the moment my thread passed through. I questioned my vision as the the wolf's ear flicked.

It's eyes cracked open again,  glowing faintly in the dim overhead light. I swore my breath stopped.

"You're going to be fine," I said shakily, though it felt like I was talking to someone who understood me.

His gaze didn't waver, burning, pulling me in like gravity.

A ridiculous warmth spread through me, low and insistent, though some part of me screamed that I was standing inches from a predator. My fingers brushed the animal's coat while I adjusted the bandage, and instead of snapping, he exhaled a hot, shuddering breath, his nose nudging barely against my flexed elbow with his dagger like teeth still hidden behind binds.

I stumbled back, ripping off my gloves as it's head was held fully steady. Crimson eyes locked with mine, and an abrupt thought settled in my mind. An image I couldn't shake: those crimson eyes, not in a wolf's face, but on a beautiful man's.

"This is insane" I walked towards the door while it bowed his head to rest, too calm for a predator. 

"What the hell is wrong with me?"