Page 50 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

Wyatt was perfect for me, in every respect. The fireworks in bed just proved what I already knew. He was the only one for me.

Still, it was hard to resist him when he was fully naked, water running down his pale skin in rivulets, his hair matted to his neck.

And the bite. My heart swelled whenever I saw it, and my chest got tight. It should have made me feel guilty—the bruising was already coming up, and I’d made him bleed. Instead, I feltnothing but the warm glow of pride. Wyatt wasmine, forever, and everyone would know it.

Or, well, every shifter in Coyote Creek would know it. And they’d know to keep their dirty paws off my mate.

We took so damn long in the shower, the hot water ran out. The spray turned cold, dousing us both with icy water, and we yelped and hopped out of the shower stall, stumbling over each other, scrabbling for towels.

Then we laughed and made out a little on the counter, before Wyatt finally pushed me back and said, “We should probably get out of here.”

I remembered Cal pestering me about taking too long earlier this morning. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. “Yeah,” I agreed, then tucked a towel around my waist.

We dressed again and headed back downstairs. Thankfully, the place was pretty much deserted. I could hear Caroline and Karla rummaging around upstairs, probably still packing. My brothers were nowhere to be seen. Cal was probably out in the barn, and who knew where Cody and Connor had gotten to.

I took Wyatt’s hand and squeezed. “So, what do you wanna do with the rest of your day off?” I asked, twirling him around, then catching him and dipping him low.

He giggled with surprise, then slowly righted himself. “Um. I don’t … really know.” He scratched at his cheek, and my heart melted a little more. My mate was so adorable. God, I had to be the luckiest alpha in Coyote Creek. Maybe the entire state.

“You … wanna go into town, get something to eat?” I cocked my head.

Wyatt blinked those beautiful hazel eyes of his. “Uh … sure.”

We stared at each other for a moment or two. “I’ll drive?” he offered at length.

“I can—”

He gave my shoulder a pointed look, and I scowled. “It’s fine.”I waved my arm up and down. “I told you—shifter healing. All good now.”

“Maybe,” Wyatt muttered. “You should still do some physiotherapy. Make sure it really is all good.”

I sighed. “Fine, fine.”

Wyatt almost glowered at me, then said, “Doctor’s orders.”

I stared at him. It was all I could do as a wave of emotion washed through me. Confusion, then amazement, and finally, pride. My mate was a veterinarian. He had a doctorate.

God, he was one smart cookie. I wondered how I could have possibly gotten so goddamn lucky. All my life, I’d lived in Cal’s shadow. Cal was bigger, stronger, smarter, better than me. So I’d never bothered trying to compete with him; I’d learned to be … well, a bit of a wild child, if I was honest.

I’d acted out, if I thought about it, long before Mom got sick. But that had made it worse. I’d had so many detentions when she got sick. Skipped so many classes. Run with the wrong pack, as Dad would have said.

It was like no one gave a shit about me, not unless I was entertaining them. So I’d learned to be the funny guy—always pulling pranks or cracking jokes.

Making people laugh, even at my own expense.

And then I’d gotten angrier, wilder—and the jokes hadn’t been jokes anymore. They’d been cruel. I’d cut anyone down, and the pranks had turned mean.

Cal had done his best to keep me in line. He’d managed to scare Carter stiff for a little while, before Carter went off the rails. Carter had shipped himself off to military school.

Me, on the other hand … I’d dropped out of school first chance I got. Mom had died. She’d fucking died, and nobody gave a shit. Not the kids who laughed at my jokes, said I was so funny. Not the teachers, who bitched that I kept cutting class, that I was failing.

Not even Dad. He’d been so deep in his own grief, he hadn’t bothered much with us. I’d hidden my report cards from him, didn’t mention suspensions or detentions, and he never asked.

Cal had tried. He really, really had, but when a teacher who knew flunked me instead of trying to help …

I quit. I gave up. Nobody cared, and school was useless, so why bother? It wasn’t like I needed an education in Coyote Creek. Cal was gonna inherit the ranch, and I’d stay there with him, help him out. I didn’t need to know trigonometry to bale hay or ride a horse or rustle up the cows when it was time to send them to slaughter. I certainly didn’t need to know anything they were teaching to shift into my fur and run in the woods.

And here was Wyatt, with his doctorate. Inmedicine. I felt a pang of guilt, in that moment, that he was shackled to my stupid ass.