The Way You Bite(2)

Eric’s mouth curled into a smile at her dilemma.

Vee lifted her lip, exposing her half-mast elongated canine. They both might be the product of centuries of evolution, but fundamentally, vamps and werewolves remained primal species. Everything about both of them was engineered to make them effective predators who valued strength.

“I’m Dr. Scarpa,” she said for Crystal’s benefit. The wolves had known her identity well before they stepped into the building. She gripped Eric’s hand in the briefest of clasps.

She and Mr. Vorste shared a moment of unspoken understanding. Nothing in front of the human.

Her father’s threat from years ago echoed in her brain. Never get involved with them. The penalty for violating the edict had been a chilling, “Or else.” Those two words implied death by something guaranteed to be prolonged and painful. Although, she did have a Get Out of Jail Free card, not that she’d ever put her powerful fiancé between herself and her father. She’d come out on the crap end of that plea for help.

“Mr. Vorste, tell me what happened to your…dog.” Vee gazed at the useless piece of paper that was the dog’s chart. She pushed aside unease to draw on professionalism.

“Let us speak alone, Dr. Scarpa.” He spoke with a thick Eastern European accent.

Vee glanced skyward as if a deity would swoop down and save her. “Crystal, would you excuse us, please?”

“Okay, Dr. Scarpa, but I’ll be right outside if you need help.” She placed the blue nylon muzzle on the counter by the exam room’s sink on her way out.

The second the door swung shut Vee backed away from the wolves, putting as much air as possible between her and them. She looked at her watch. Her stomach lurched.

“What does Ambrose DiFalco think of you still working and not preparing for a life of subservience and reproduction?” Eric’s gaze fell to her ring-free left hand.

Ambrose had presented her with an engagement ring, but she refused to wear the ostentatious emerald at work. The complicated land mine of her relationship with her fiancé was none of Eric’s business.

She addressed the bleeding wolf on the floor. “Why are you here? This is not protocol. If you need help, you go through your own channels.” Like Roman, the werewolves’ regional primary care doctor.

Eric frowned. “Protocol?”

Crap. They didn’t know she’d helped others in an organized effort.

“I’m not treating him.” She pointed at the wolf, although guilt speared her vicious claws into her brain. He looked to be in a lot of pain.

As if resuming a prepared script, Eric said, “You did a good job on the kid last month.”

“He breached protocol, too, and showed up here. It’s not safe for you to be here.” She rubbed her forehead. “You guys have to leave. I’m sorry. I stay out of the war as best I can, and it needs to stay away from me, at least for right now.” For another three months.

“The North American vampire leader’s daughter helping a wolf? I’m sure when Dominic found out about that incident last month he was thrilled.” Eric’s lips twisted upward into a sarcastic smile.

She checked the time again. “I got off shift over a half hour ago. The two of you need to see a different doctor and make whoever is assigned his case think he’s a dog. No shifting. I’ll send in someone else.” Anyone else. She reached for the door.

“Do Dominic and Ambrose know about the incident in California?”

“California?” she repeated dully, caught off-guard. How could this guy possibly know about what happened a decade ago? As a vampire, she shouldn’t have laid one finger of aid on the werewolves. But they were prepubescent kids who’d been filled with holes by a Squad ambush in her front yard, and no one understood the physiology of werewolves better than her, a trained medical doctor and veterinarian. This war was what it was, but moments like that disgusted her. The only wolf who’d survived couldn’t have been more than fourteen.

“I’m pretty sure neither is aware of your charitable work. How do you think they would feel about you being a werewolf sympathizer?”

She marched toward Eric. “What is this about? Ambrose remains neutral in this war. Is this about Dominic?”

Eric didn’t answer. His expression didn’t give any clue of his intention, and his mind was closed to her ability to read his thoughts.

“Who put the word out I was a safe bet for a quick patch-up? What little I’ve done over the past few years is on a case-by-case basis as a favor for Roman. I work on a referral basis only. The incident in California? I believe murdering kids, regardless of species, is wrong. I can’t help you.” She gripped the Sharpie inside her lab coat pocket tight in her left fist. The smartest play was to walk away. She tensed to leave.

“Why do you help wolves when one supposedly murdered your mother? And inspired Dominic to start this war?”

“Did a wolf murder my mother? Seems to me the details are a bit unclear.” With Roman’s help and expertise in human medicine, she’d exhumed her mother’s remains in secret years ago and examined what was left. Most dead vamps were sun dusted, their own version of natural cremation, but the aristocratic class liked to save their remains in crypts, as if some secret would emerge in the future to reincarnate them. She’d been a wreck during the exam process, but the lesions she’d found weren’t caused by a wolf. Roman had agreed. Someone wanted this war between the species and had used her mother to start it. Someone powerful. It wasn’t her job to end it, but since it’d crossed paths with her life one too many times, she’d decided to do what she could for those she felt were unfairly targeted. Did that make her a sympathizer? Perhaps, it did. “Do you plan to fight past Dominic’s Termination Squad to tell him about me?”