Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I set Nicky down on the medical bed and keep her in place by boxing her in, one hand on either side of her thighs as she sits there looking fairly smug about all of this. She is such a little brat.
“Is this the patient?” The doctor washes his hands, dries them, and turns to look at Nicky and me.
“It is,” I say. “She’s a little antsy. Resisting her first shift.”
“Resisting her first shift, why?”
“Something complex and psychological, I imagine. For the moment, her hand needs to be attended to.”
He looks at her hand without touching it, or her. Smart move.
“If she shifted, she wouldn’t need to have this patched up. The shift would fix it. I can give her something to assist the shift. Sometimes the hormones haven’t built up enough from only one or two matings. Ideally, they should be so powerful they cannot be resisted…” He breaks off as he has to dodge back. My mate has made a lazy swat at him.
“Feisty,” he notes. “Discipline also helps.”
“I’m aware,” I say grimly. “I think we have to patch her up the old way, Doc.”
“She needs an x-ray on the hand and then some kind of splint. It’s going to severely limit her movement. A shift would really be preferable for all sorts of reasons. Have you not claimed her, sir?”
“I have.”
“Did you do it properly?”
Nicky starts to giggle at my expense with this line of questioning.
“I intend to try again,” I say with what I hope is a threatening tone. Nicky’s refusal to be controlled in any way is starting to get in the way of every interaction we have.
The doctor gives me what I think to be a pitying look.
To her credit, she sits still long enough to have her hand x-rayed and she allows the doctor to give her some pain relief and splint it. She ends up with it bandaged up in a way that can’t be gotten wet. She’ll have to have a bath with a bag on it.
While he does that, he asks her questions about what happened, and she tells him.
The contortions his brows perform as she tells him about punching the car are quite impressive. He cuts a look over to me, as if to ask me if I am certain this will be the future genetic content of our pack’s leading lineage.
It will be. For better or worse.
Once she is settled, and hopefully less uncomfortable, she does seem to be in a little bit better of a mood.
“I’ve given her something to quieten the beast,” the doctor says. “If she’s fighting the shift, she probably needs some time to adjust. That hand is broken in several places. Six weeks for full recovery. No more fighting cars, young lady,” he says to her sternly.
“I’ll try,” she replies.
“Best we can hope for, I suppose,” he says in resigned tones. He pats my shoulder on his way out of the room. “Good luck, my boy.”
I let the ‘my boy’ part slide, because Dr. Swan gave me my vaccinations when I was a baby. To him, and a few others in the pack, I pretty much am a boy.
Still the alpha, though. Still the alpha with his new mate, who is now slightly calmer and behaving a little more appropriately.
By the time we leave the doctor, her little pack retinue has been properly welcomed. Fescue has taken the young men and lady into the dining room and they are feasting on venison and roasted vegetables. There is a pleasant ambiance to the gathering. I note that the secretary and Fescue seem to be chatting a little, and the young men have many questions to ask their Regent counterparts.
My mate joins her pack, and seems to be much happier now. She was hungry, judging by the way she starts putting food away. I keep her by my side, my arm around her. It looks like affection, and it is. But it also gives me the chance to grip her by the neck or collar of her shirt if she decides to, as the English say, kick off.
She doesn’t, to her credit, though I do not know why I am giving so much credit to anyone just for acting with a faint semblance of human propriety. In very short time, my mate has shifted the bar of what I expect from her. Impressive, really.
We get through a meal without anything terribly unhinged happening, and I realize that she has truly begun to train me rather than the other way around. That’s going to have to be addressed. I have gotten so used to my alpha position that it seems unthinkable to me to have someone not submit.
I need to get her somewhere private, and I need to deal with this before it becomes too ingrained.
I beckon to Fescue, who attends immediately.