A small, petty part of me wanted to toss the blowhard out of my clinic and tell him to wait for his precious Dr. Jenkins to come back. Bastian already hated me; would it really change anything if I was rude to his dad? Did I care?
Ugh, yes. You do.
Jenkins might have been an ass. Hell, this horde might have been filled with them from top to bottom, but I had standards—for myself. I didn’t risk patient well-being because of personal issues. Medical degree or not, I still believed in the Hippocratic oath.
“I assure you, I know perfectly well how to clean and rebandage an abscess. I’m happy to help.”
Cyrus stared at me for a moment before nodding slowly. “Fine, you can do it, but I don’t want you putting any of that herbal bullshit on there. The doctor has me on a good, strong steroid cream, and I intend to keep using it. Understand?”
“Of course,” I said with an overly bright fake smile. “Why don’t you go take a seat on the table, and I’ll get some clean bandages.”
By the time I returned from getting several new bandages and a fresh set of gloves, Cyrus was up on the table, with his pant leg pulled up to expose the area. Immediately, I was struck by the discoloration on the previously white fabric. I approached theexam table, snapping on the gloves after setting my supplies out on the rolling metal table.
“All right, let’s take a look.”
When I pulled back the yellowing bandage, it took everything in me not to gag. I was a damn good healer, and I’d come across some downright horrific sights and scents in my time, but whatever was coming from Cyrus’s leg wasrevolting.
Acidic and sharp.
Holding my breath, I kept that polite smile plastered on my face as I quickly took off the old bandage and grabbed a cloth and water.
“No! No cleaning it,” Cyrus growled. “It’s got the doc’s medication on there. I trust him more than I trust you.”
He couldn’t be serious. Except, he was—outraged at the notion of cleaning and debriding the wound. I wanted to scream at him. The abscess on his leg was easily three inches wide, angry, red, and swollen with pus seeping from it. It was clearly infected, and it was no wonder since the old Alpha had admitted to never cleaning it. I had to assume neither of them had.
He could lose his fucking leg like this.
“I’m cleaning it with simple water. Nothing else,” I insisted through gritted teeth.
“No,” he growled again.
Taking a deep breath, I put the cloth down and grabbed the fresh set of bandages. Realistically, there was no point in even changing the bandages if he wasn’t going to let me clean it, but I didn’t have the strength to fight with him about it.
I’d have that conversation with Bastian, and he could be the unlucky soul to argue with his father.
You know, if he didn’t get sepsis and die before they could chat.
I made quick work of the bandage change; time flew by when I didn’t have to do anyactualmedical care and was just slapping fabric over a painful sore.
“You’re finished.” I nodded politely, but I wasn’t looking to stroke his ego any more than I had to.
“Good,” he commented gruffly, lightly shoving me out of the way as he got off the table.
I stumbled back, anger boiling my blood, but kept my expression neutral. Yet again, it occurred to me that he was going to suffer a lot more if he let his leg stay this way. As much as I didn’t want to, I offered one more piece of medical advice I knew he wouldn’t take. But that oath and all.
“When Jenkins comes back, you might want to talk to him about a medical debridement.”
I hoped using the unnecessary medical jargon may at least get the notion rumbling around in his thick skull. The Alpha just grunted, limping slightly as he wandered to the door.
As he turned to exit, he looked back at me. “When are you leaving? You’re causing quite the fuss, andnotin a good way.”
“I’ll leave as soon as the Alphas want me to.” It was a pointed jab because, despite still using the title, he wasn’t the Alpha. His son and his clan were. Cyrus had no say in whether I left.
Worse, I knew that if I did stay long enough to be given clan member status, I’d outrank the surly old bastard. Clearly,hedidn't believe I’d be staying, though. Or maybe he did, and he was just a raging misogynist pig who didn’t care about rank now that it didn’t serve him.
“They don'twant you here,” he shot back roughly.
“As soon as I hear thatfrom them, I will happilygo.”
