Page 7 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

If I thought Robert in his human form was heavy, the wolf weighs ten times more.

“How is this possible?” I grunt, pulling him past the shattered front door. I didn’t have time to sweep away the broken glass, and he’s being dragged over it. “Sorry. I’m so sorry,” I keep mumbling. “Not like this is an everyday thing for me. Please don’t get mad.”

My back is screaming by the time he’s fully inside the office.

The next task is more difficult. Grabbing a plastic bag, I put Droga’s head in it. I follow that up by dragging both bodies into the back of the shelter. There is a small yard there where we let the dogs out to play and do their business. In a corner, there’s a shed. I push both bodies inside and slam the door shut. Leaning against it, I try to catch my breath.

Why were they so heavy?!

I don’t have time to waste thinking about it. I make my way back into the main building and then lock the back door. There is no way to lock the front door since the glass is all shattered, so I simply sweep the shards into the shelter and close the shutters from the inside. The animals are making a racket at this point, having smelled all the blood and heard the chaos.

I finally turn my attention to the large wolf bleeding out in the reception area.

I’m not a vet by any means, but I’ve been saving up for veterinary school, and I’ve been assisting Ricky in surgeries. I can also clean and patch up wounds. To help Robert, it would be best to drag him to the back office, which is just not possible if I take into account how tiny our hallway is. He’s going to end up damaging the wall or himself.

There’s no other way around it.

I go back there alone, get some alcohol swabs, saline, dressing, along with a plethora of other items I need to clean and disinfect wounds and stitch the tear in his throat. He doesn’t move while I’m gone. I press my lips together, praying to every deity under the sun that he doesn’t awaken while I’m working on his neck. Fortunately, there is someone out there who hears my prayers, and Robert doesn’t stir as I disinfect his cut and stitch it up. It’s already healing, but he’s going to be very anemic for a while till he eats some meat to make up for the loss of blood.

It’s while I’m stitching him that a strange scent reaches me.

It’s sickly sweet, and my hand goes still.

It can’t be.

I lean closer and take another sniff. While I don’t have the same abilities as a shifter to be able to distinguish smells, aside from blood, this is a scent I recognize.

Wolfsbane.

My father had a greenhouse where he grew it. Wolfsbane is mostly banned in wolf-shifter-dominated areas; even vampires aren’t allowed to grow it based on the peace treaties and business dealings they have with the wolves. But wolves don’t come into vampire territory, so my clan has never had a problem with concealing the fact that they grow it in large amounts. I often used to hide in the greenhouse because it was all the way at the other end of the compound. The gardeners would leave me be, aware of my situation.

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew why my father was growing it. But I had my own set of problems as a young child who lacked protection of any sort, so I didn’t really care about wolfsbane. But right now, I do. This is a problem.

The wolfsbane has gotten into the Alpha’s bloodstream. It’s not hard to figure out how; lately, I’ve been hearing things about liquid wolfsbane, which is more potent than anything.

There are only two ways to get the wolfsbane out of Robert’s system. The first one is impossible in this current situation because there is no wolf healer present in the animal shelter. The other way is more intimate, and I really don’t want to do it.

I gaze down at the unconscious wolf. No wonder he’s not waking up; the wolfsbane must be breaking down his organs by now. I have to do something.

Two dead vampires are one thing. A dead Alpha is a death sentence. A painful one, at that.

“This is just not a good day for me,” I mutter before grabbing the side of the wolf’s neck and lowering my mouth.

My fangs slice into his neck, and I have to be careful not to swallow any of the blood. Shifter blood is said to be incredibly addictive, and I’m trying to decrease my problems in life, not add to them. His blood is sweet, most likely due to the wolfsbane. I spit it out and then suck some more, spitting it out as well. The process continues until the unnatural sweetness fades away.

Sure enough, minutes later, his body begins to change.

I’ve never seen a wolf shift before. My breath catches as it takes less than a second for the wolf to turn into a man. A very naked, well-built man.

I can’t stop my eyes from straying, and when they peek at his lower body, I press my lips together and look away, feeling flustered.

Forcing myself not to stare, I take off my light sweater and cover his privates with it before studying the wounds on him. He’s got plenty of them, but they’ll all heal eventually. One or two are particularly bad, and I clean them up, covering them with gauze. While I’m wrapping a piece of gauze around his chest, where there is a particularly nasty wound, he stirs.

“Mr. Montgomery?” I ask slowly.

“Hmm?” He sounds groggy, and his movements are a little slow. I still don’t know how he managed to wake up long enough to attack Mack and Droga.

“Mr. Montgomery, how’re you feeling? Can I call somebody for you?” I tie up the ends of the gauze in a clean knot before helping him lean against the back of the desk.

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