Cat slips back in and shuts the door behind her. This time she locks it.
“Tyson, can I take your vitals please? And do a blood test?”
“Why? Nothing bit me, I’m not injured.”
“For my own peace of mind. I have some concerns about the hormone levels I’m sensing from you, and…”
“Not now.” I rise and pace the floor some more.
“Maybe soon?” she tries.
“Maybe. What’s with all of them?” I gesture to the door that leads to that waiting area. “Why do they wait here?”
“They’re merely concerned. They’re here to show you that they’re here for you and your mate. There was a lot of buzz today after your visit so now that you’re here again and your mate was in jeopardy, they just… well, it’s very normal pack behavior, Tyson. Can I get you anything? I’m going to get Ivy some water. Would you like anything?”
I shake my head.
She leaves.
My eyes move to Ivy who was watching the exchange.
“Your mom,” she says, “is awesome.”
I make a non-committal sound and approach to look at her ankle. Definitely better. Even better than earlier. That swelling is coming down quickly but not quickly enough to put my mind at ease. Ivy’s scent is still wrong. And I hate the sight of the small bruises on her leg from my grip as I tried to get the poison out.
When I think about what could have happened… I could’ve found her dead. If I hadn’t stopped to piss on Cornelius’s bones and had that episode of rage, I could’ve stopped her from walking where she did. I could’ve had her in my arms, carrying her back home before this even happened.
That angry haze that came over me wants to come over me now.
It crackles at the base of my spine and I shove it back. I roar out my anger and she jerks in fear. I get directly in front of her face so that she can’t look away from me. I can’t say any words. I just breathe in and out and in and out. Her eyes are filled with fear. I don’t want fear, but I have no words to show her how my emotions war right now. If she weren’t in a bed hooked up to medicine to save her life, I’d have her on the floor under me, rutting her for as long as it took to get her to understand.
25
Ivy
His eyes are wild with fury. I watch, unable to tear my gaze away, as a blood vessel pops directly in front of me. It just bursts in the white of his right eye and he bares his teeth. He’s so angry.
Tears stream down my face and at the vision of his eye, a sob bursts from my throat. His face is only inches from mine. He leans over me, a fist on either side of my hips and his chest is rapidly filling with air and then depressing as he glares. This goes on for probably less than a minute, but it feels eternal before he snaps away and roars out another snarl, fists clenched, veins bulging in his muscled arms, and then Cat is in the room with us with two bottles of water.
She looks at him and then me and hands him the water, her brows knitting together only a bit. “Drink. Calm yourself, Tyson. You’re frightening your little mate. She doesn’t know much about you yet, about our kind, does she?” She says this with so much authority in her voice, I’m sure he’s going to listen. She doesn’t know him and yet seems unaffected by the scary way he’s acting. This is baffling for a minute until it dawns that she likely knows many others like him. Other werewolves. I can’t imagine this behavior being typical in my life. Then again, I wasn’t born around this, so I have no comparison.
My dad and brother get grouchy sometimes and I’ve had occasion to accuse them of being alpha males, but it’s glaringly obvious that I knew nothing of the term until now. They were nothing like this. If I dated a guy remotely acting like this, it’d be game over for us.
Date. Ha. This guy thinks we’re the equivalent of married.
He yanks the bottle from her hand and twists the cap off before tipping it back and drinking it so fast that it vanishes in four or five swallows.
He doesn’t answer her, so she looks to me.
“Is his eye okay?” I ask.
“He’ll be fine. I’ll give him some eyedrops when you go. Remind him to put them in. He’ll probably be stubborn about it but try.” She shrugs. “If he shifts, it might correct on its own. I’m not sure. Do you heal when you shift?”
“Yeah,” he tells her. “Usually. She’s ripped my face open twice with her nails and it’s healed after a shift.”