The Way You Bite(4)

“Let’s take a look at the damage.” She pulled on latex gloves and approached. The wolf maintained a less than trusting glower, but, to his credit, showed no teeth.

Addressing the furry beast, she said, “So long as we have a clear understanding of shut-lip on all issues that pertain to my helping your kind in the past and right now, I’ll do this. This is the last time I help one of you, though. I can’t promise this won’t hurt, since you declined anesthesia.”

Vee detected the mental vibrations of communication between Eric and the wolf. She detected words passing between them, but it was a foreign language she didn’t recognize. No pictures.

“He agrees. No injections. Don’t try to take his temperature.” Eric chuckled.

The wolf growled.

“Telepathy. Cool trick.” She pulled her thermometer from her lab coat and placed it on the metal exam table. “Got it. No temp.” As she knelt next to the wolf, she asked, “I didn’t see a name on the chart. Does your dog have a name, or do I call him Wolfie?”

“Wolfie works.”

On her knees, the wolf towered above her and threw her the hairy eye. Sweat broke out across her forehead. One neck-grab and she’d be toast. Power rolled from the beast, but not a run-of-the-mill preternatural buzz. The wolf radiated something ancient and deadly. Looking between Eric and the injured wolf was like comparing a copperhead snake to a black mamba.

Survival instinct flared. She rocked back on her knees away from the beast. Her pulse thudded between her ears. “If you intend to use me as a pawn to end this war, then be warned Dominic won’t care if you kill me. He’d gladly use it as ammunition to fire up his people. Or if you want to draw out the Italian DiFalcos as a way to end the war, it won’t work. They don’t care. Well, that assumes you’re here to end it.”

“We won’t hurt you today,” Eric promised.

“Gee, that’s comforting.” She sucked in a deep breath and touched the wolf. Dealing with injured, fearful, aggressive dogs was second nature to her. She put aside apprehension to focus on the clinical. Her fingers parted the soft sable fur on his shoulder to expose the skin beneath. She used her ability to connect with other beings mentally in order to soothe the animal. Within seconds, the wolf relaxed.

“What happened to him? I mean, how did he get shot?” Her exam found a wound in his shoulder. His blood wafted the aroma of a rich chocolate dessert. Her canines elongated, and her stomach grumbled. Weird. Either she was far hungrier than she thought, or she was losing it. Werewolf blood was toxic. She clamped her mouth closed. Her teeth dug into her inner lips.

A snippet of the wolf’s thoughts flashed in her head. First, a blurry, but familiar vamp face…her brother, Trace. Then automatic gunfire and a chase. A memory. It’d been a Squad fight, which meant silver bullets to ensure a wolf died when shot. The secondary allergic reaction was the killer. The animal couldn’t transform back to human until the metal was removed. If he changed, then the silver would merge with the wolf’s cells, making it virtually impossible to extract. To prevent the reaction, any bullet had to be removed within a few hours of entry. The new bullets Trace was playing with these days exploded into liquefied silver upon impact, making it tricky to completely extract.

Eric still hadn’t responded to her question on what happened.

She asked, “At least tell me how many times he was shot.”

“Twice. Left shoulder and left thigh.”

“Were they normal silver bullets or the new exploding liquid silver?” Vee found the source of the blood on the ground to be a jagged laceration near the wolf’s left knee. That had to be painful.

Eric paused long enough for what Vee suspected was more metal discussion. Finally, he said, “Not sure. Suspect normal bullets.”

She nodded. Blood hunger rose to the fore in her brain as the wolf’s blood continued to torture her. She stood up fast and stepped away from the wolf. Vertigo sent the world into an eerie shift, a worsening problem over the past few weeks. She hadn’t found time to seek out a vamp doctor. The only one she trusted was several states away. She blew off the dizziness as the product of low quality REM sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time sleep had been peaceful. She gripped the exam table to hide her weakness.

In a well-practiced, steady tone she said, “Were he a real dog, his left leg would be toast. He’s lucky you guys have bones like titanium. He needs Benadryl and a steroid injection to counteract the allergic reaction. I recommend sedation or a local block before we go beyond that.”

Eric stared at the wolf in silence for several seconds. Then he met her gaze. “No sedation. No local. The allergy drugs are fine. You can use a local if it makes you feel better, but he won’t need it. He’s handled far worse.”

“Fine. But remember, no biting. Is it okay if a tech assists me?”

“No tech. You alone. I’ll help, if you need it,” Eric said.

…

“All done.” Vee pushed away from her patient and waved at the mostly shaved left thigh and shoulder.

Eric glanced up from his iPhone. “Twenty minutes. That was fast.”

“I need to get going.” She glanced at her watch. She also wasn’t sure how much longer she could take the tempting smell of her patient’s blood. Perhaps the odor was some sort of ramped-up defense mechanism. Inspire a vamp to bite. One suck guaranteed death.