Page 11 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
He scoffs. “I’m a doctor.”
Yeah, and I’m the fucking president. This guy can’t be more than four years older than me.
I smack his hand when he reaches for me. He narrows his gaze. “Would you rather stay on the floor?”
“I can get up by myself.”
His mouth twists into a nasty smile. “Sure you can.”
Determined to prove him wrong, I attempt to stand. When I fail to climb to my feet the third time, he yanks me up by my arm, much rougher than any doctor should.
“You’re not well. You need to stay in bed.”
“I feel fine.” A lie, but I don’t know where I am. “Where’s my aunt?” She would have been notified, right? Once she gets here, she can help me leave.
“Your aunt is busy.” The doctor pushes me onto the bed, and I have to clutch the sheet to keep from flashing him.
“Let me call her.”
“No.” He grabs the tubes and sighs, looking from me to the discarded tape. “Your body needs these nutrients.”
I shake my head. “Trust me, I don’t need the purple stuff. I’m fine.”
Tsking, he pulls open one of the drawers on the side table and grabs a roll of tape. “The young ones always think they know what’s best. The wolfsbane is the only thing keeping your wolf from taking control.”
My what now?
Images flash through my mind at lightning speed. The bite. The moon. The change. Dominating the black wolf. Snarling at the brown one. Yanking control from the voice in my head.
The pain that accompanies the needle being poked into my vein is proof enough that I’m not dreaming. I try to yank my hand away before he can stab me again, but I’m too slow. He sits on my forearm, pinning me in place and slides the sharp point into my skin.
“Get the hell off of me!” I pound my other fist on his back, trying to hurt him, but he doesn’t seem to notice my abuse.
“Nurse!” he calls then uses his teeth to rip a piece of tape from the roll and slaps it against my skin, pressing it over the top of my hand.
A petite woman bursts into the room, wielding a needle. “Hold her down.”
Like fuck.
I try to wrench away from the doctor, but he presses his hand against my arm and spins, quickly placing his knee on my forearm and using his other hand to pin my right side down as well.
The nurse dodges a kick, wrinkling her nose at me as she nears. “She’s a fighter.”
“Yes, she’ll be a strong shifter,” the doctor says. Then he tips his head. “Do it.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” I slam my body up, but the doctor throws his elbow into my stomach. I gasp for air, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
She lets out a soft laugh. “This won’t hurt a bit.” She jams the needle into my arm and depresses the plunger.
Heat erupts, spreading from where the liquid enters my body and down my arm. Trickling through me like a slow building fire.
“Who are you?” I ask, panting from all the thrashing I’ve been doing.
The edges of my vision grows fuzzy, and the room darkens.
* * *
The next time I wake,I’m in a bedroom. There’s no heart monitor or IV stand. I’m lying on a twin bed, covered by a simple blue quilt, and the bedside table lamp is on. An alarm clock shows it’s two in the afternoon.
