Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 51

 "Hold on, love," Ambrose says. "We're almost there."

He reaches back to stroke my fur where I lie on the back seat, and as I feel the car swerve I wish I were in human form and could tell him to keep his eyes on the road. At the moment, all I can manage is a whine and a soft thump of my tail.

He'd wrapped me in the old blanket I kept back here for Dougal to lie on, and I feel I've come full circle in a bizarre, Mad Hatter's tea party kind of way.

I'd run away to Spring Lakes after being hurt by Thom and arrived with an injured dog in the back seat of my car, which I'd then taken to a vet, with whom I'd fallen in love. Then I'd been hurt again, run away again, encountered Thom again, and now I was the injured dog, and the vet was driving, and he was taking me home.

I'd laugh at the absurdity of it, if I could.

Instead, I close my eyes, wondering if maybe this time I can stop running. Maybe this time I can belong, and be loved. Maybe this time I can stay.

Ambrose still has a hell of a lot of explaining to do, and I haven't forgiven him yet for the pain he's caused me, but it's clear he's suffered at least as much as I have for his misguided attempt to keep me safe.

He keeps talking to me as he drives, reaching back to touch me now and then and telling me to stay awake.

I try, but I guess I drift off for a bit anyway, because the next thing I know he's pulling me from the car and lifting me again. He's parked near the garage, the door of which he'd left open, and he heads for the white work van he uses for mobile vet visits.

Again, if I could laugh, I would. Being taken to a vet while in wolf-form is a sort of joke-nightmare among Wolves. All sorts of bad things could happen—from having your temperature taken to being accidentally euthanized—but if there's one vet I trust to take care of me, it's Dr. Ambrose Thorne.

He struggles a bit to get the back doors of his van open, but manages it and then climbs inside, laying me on a long, stainless-steel table that folds down from the wall.

"Alright, love—just a bit longer," he says, smoothing trembling hands over my face.

I trust him, but I do hope he gets the shaking under control before he attempts anything too delicate.

"Just a bit longer," he murmurs again, and busies himself collecting whatever supplies and things he needs, arranging them around me where I lie. "Just have to get that bullet out, and then you can Shift, and I'll take care of the rest, aye?"

I catch sight of the blanket as he pulls it away and sets it aside and see that it's stained with blood. A lot of blood, which explains why I'm so tired and dizzy and cold. If only I were like Dane or Freya, I'd be half-healed on my own already—up again and ready to fight. Instead, one tiny bullet, which didn't even hit anything vital, and I'm pretty sure I'm bleeding out and in shock.

"This will sting, love. Just a bit," Ambrose says, and I smell the tang of some kind of antiseptic as he uncaps a bottle. "Just a bit..."

I yelp and whine as he pours the fluid over the wound—it stings a lot—and he holds me down with gentle strength.

"Sh-sh-sh—I know, I know. I'm sorry. I don't even know if Wolves can get infections," he mutters. "Just to be safe, though."

I relax as the pain subsides, and listen as he continues to ramble to himself about forceps and things, and then I feel his hands on me again.

"This will hurt, love. Try to keep still."

He's not lying this time, and I bite my tongue in my effort not to thrash with agony as he probes the wound with something long, sharp and cold. My strength quickly ebbs, though, and even as I'm dully aware of the pain, I no longer fight it as I slide towards the dark.