The Pack Doctor's Mate

Chapter 1

As a pack doctor, you experience a variety of smells. The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol, the coppery twang of blood, even the dank smell of death. And this mundane Thursday night was no different.

Except, it was.

Because the one smell I never expected to ever encounter was carried into my life.

Literally.

I don't bother looking up as the automatic doors swish open, the everyday sounds of chaos shattering the quiet of the hospital lobby. When I first became a PD, that sound alone was my rush of adrenaline, my alarm clock bolting me awake, my shot of caffeine in the morning that made me spring into action like every other overly-excited newbie. Having experienced it over a thousand times throughout the years, it's now more like the easily ignored ding of my cellphone, much to my mother's chagrin (also much to her chagrin, I have not found my mate among the attractive, single weremen I have as patients).

So, instead of shooting out like a bullet from a gun, I continue scanning the charts of the new mother in room 303. Surprisingly, the hospital has 5 levels, which may seem like a lot, but you wouldn't believe the frequency (and not to mention idiocy) of werewolf injuries. One thing is certain, it's never dull around here. Like this birth, for example. I've only experienced 19, as pregnancy is harder than one believes for wolves. So I want to make sure the mother and newborn are in top condition.

I continue scanning as the newest visitors, a group of pack warriors, begin shouting at the nurses. Because they know I hold this case as one of my top priorities, no one calls for me. Not to say I don't care about my other patients, because I really do, but the rest of them are standard training injuries, which I get like clockwork every afternoon after one of Beta Samuel's toughest sessions.

"Average bpm is 72....vitals are stable..."

My quiet murmuring is interrupted when I catch a few of the shouted words.

"...rogue, found near the border..."

My eyes snap up instantly.

A rogue?

They brought a rogue into the pack hospital?

The doors slid open again, bringing a slight autumn breeze through the white lobby, and I'm hit with the mouth-watering scent of fresh laundry, the scent of asphalt after a rainy day, and...rogue?

Before I can stop myself, I'm walking around the desk, closer to the source of the smell, my forgotten chart dropping onto the floor carelessly. Intrigued by this new case and lured by the scent, I unconsciously draw closer to the limp body held by two of the warriors. Suddenly, the figure is whisked down the large main hallway in a blur of shirtless and scrub-clad bodies. I am only able to spot a head of dark blonde curls through the fray.  As the action carries further into the hospital, no one seems concerned that I'm standing in the middle of the waiting room like a dear caught in wolf-sights.

My eyes rival saucers as my brain is pounded with shocking thoughts, each one more so than the last.

Rogue.

Fresh laundry.

Rain.

Blonde hair.

In the midst of it all, I don't notice my head nurse Valerie approach until a hand is gently placed on my arm. My eyes, which I don't remember shutting, fly open to meet her concerned brown ones. I quickly glance around the now vacated lobby before looking back to her. It looks just as it did a few minutes ago, but now everything has changed.

I don't hear her words over the white noise buzzing in my ears, but I find myself nodding robotically in response to her question. Her eyes flit over my form, lingering on my right hand, and brings my attention to the way my sharp claws are pressed into the dark wood of the nurses' desk, holding me up. I don't remember doing it, but I try to hold back the panic pulsing through my body as my hand returns to normal and I straighten up, pushing off of the desk gracefully.

"I'm going to check on the patient in room 511." I state calmly, although I feel anything but.

She eyes me warily before accepting my lie. We both know there is no patient in that room.

"Okay," she says, worry retreating only slightly from her brown orbs. "I'll page you if you're needed."

It's an inside joke between us, a line we picked up from the hospital dramas we've watched together on TV. It brings my racing heart down a notch, and I force a small smile in return.

She hesitates. "The...new patient appears to have serious injuries. Alpha requested that you look over him before anyone else. He's unconscious, but just incase he's still a threat, they've cuffed him, so don't worry."

Unfortunately, that's the least of my worries at the moment.

It seems strange that a rogue is here at all, and that Alpha Night wants me to check him first. But I am the only PD on call, so I cast my questions aside. For now.

I nod sharply and quickly walk down the hall, passing the warriors that must have brought him in. I only stop when one of the large men inquires after his "reckless son," one of the teens who was injured today. Touched by the obvious concern in his voice, I break free of my stupor to ease his mind with his son's positive condition. He thanks me more than is necessary, which I embarrassingly accept, and continue my brisk pace down the hall, up the stairs, and into my office on the top floor, where I sit in my desk chair and reevaluate the hell out of my life. So much has changed in such a small amount of time, that I feel as though I have whiplash.

Through the murkiness of my thoughts, one word floats above the others.

Mate.