The Way You Bite(3)

“Email. And we’ve got pictures of you helping wolves.”

“Dominic doesn’t use email.” He considered computers evil.

“His secretary does.”

True. Where could they have possibly gotten pictures? They had to be bluffing. She hated being on the butt end of blackmail. Did she dare call their bluff?

No. Damn it. No.

If they sent the pictures, she could appeal to Ambrose and his line of neutrality, but she wanted no part of a showdown between Ambrose and Dominic. As the North American territory liaison for the ruling DiFalco family, Ambrose never muddied his hands in the Stateside war. The arrogant jerk would probably grant her one of his patented gorgeous, condescending smiles and let Dominic exact punishment in the name of war neutrality. He might not allow Dominic to kill her, but the sadist would probably enjoy watching whatever humiliation Dominic doled out.

Three more months and she could fake her death and ghost out of existence to a remote island in Southeast Asia. Property already purchased. No vamps. No wolves. No forced marriage. Just her and a buttload of technology to alert her whenever a nonhuman entered into her domain. Then she could reinvent her life, maybe as a vet again. Maybe something new. She’d never be a broodmare or a political wife. All she had to do was keep her head low and avoid conflicts…like this.

Eric’s superior gotcha smirk tempted her to flip him off and leave, but he had her checkmated. Eric turned away from her. He touched his ear. A communication device? The bleeding wolf was someone who required protection. Someone important.

Eric’s cell phone dinged. He scrolled through a few screens and started typing. God, she hated being ignored for a cell phone.

She resumed her previously interrupted mental scan, this time picking up at least six wolves hovering outside the building. How could she have been so oblivious as to miss eight werewolves in the immediate area? Seven to guard the bleeding one? She and the bleeding wolf locked gazes while she wondered about his identity.

The oversized mutt might just be the king himself. Aleksander Dimitrov. She broke the staring competition to glance at Eric, who was still typing on his phone. He could be one of the king’s super warrior protectors, which would account for the eerie way the guy tracked her every move. The communicator then made sense. Supposedly, King Werewolf was more secured than the queen of England.

The wolf couldn’t be the king. This was her imagination kicking into overdrive. She rolled her wrist. “I don’t have time for this.”

Eric shoved his cell phone into his cargo pants’ side pocket. “You’ll still make the wedding party if we get this done now.”

Of course they knew her destination tonight. Everyone in the wolf and vamp world knew her sister was getting married.

“What do you want from me?” She eyed the wolf while faking outward calm. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears.

“Let’s start with you examining his injuries. Then we’ll go from there.” Eric resumed his slouch on the bench.

Her mind catalogued everything she’d ever heard about the wolf leader, which added up to a jumble of fear-based speculations and rumors. Except for one fact: the wolf king was the only being on the planet who both Ambrose and Dominic feared. Actually, the whole vampire race feared Aleksander Dimitrov.

The bleeding wolf wavered on its feet, igniting her instinct to help. Given the blood pooling beneath him, he might be borderline shocky. She didn’t want a defibrillator incident tonight. Plus, when he died on the table in central treatment in wolf form, there would be an awkward human transformation. That could become an instant YouTube sensation, given the whole clinic was on closed circuit video surveillance. She didn’t want to be the cause of the human holy-crap-another-species moment. At least the exam rooms were camera free.

“I’ve got three conditions.”

Eric didn’t budge from his slouch. Both he and the wolf watched her.

“First, no biting anyone. You bite and I’ll be forced to call Animal Control. Then your dog gets six months of quarantine since he’s not up to date on rabies. That’s lockup at Animal Control.” She bit back a smile at Eric’s wide-eyed surprise. A bite couldn’t transform a human like legend claimed. The wolf or vamp status was genetic. She lost her war against a grin and could’ve sworn the wolf on the floor rolled its eyes.

“Second, no transformation in this building. Most places in here are on candid camera. I know he’ll heal faster in human form once I’m done, but he stays wolf until you guys leave.”

“And third?” Eric asked.

“You behave like clients. You’ll treat the staff nice and check out up front like a normal client.”

Eric nodded. “Okay, but definite no on the muzzle over there. Let’s get started. He’s not leaving the room or my sight.”

Vee folded her arms over her chest. “I’m charging you extra for keeping me overtime.”

“Fine.”

“Does he want anesthesia for this? At least a local block?”

He glanced at the injured wolf. “Just get the bullets out of him so he can transform.”

“Now they’re bullets and not dog attack bites like you checked him in as having?”

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. The wolf growled and bared his teeth at Eric, who cleared his throat. “Checking him in with bullet wounds garners too much attention.”