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“Settle down, bitches, I brought a healer, not food. I won’t take the breeder from you all.” I snicker. “Yet.”
Someone throws an orange at me. I catch it and slide it into my pocket for later. Where the fuck did these arseholes get fresh fruit? Reserves? Reserves. I’ll deal with this later.
Spence meets me at the entrance, looking like someone pissed on his head.
“The breeder rejected you?” I ask.
He jerks his head. “Dan is inside.”
Three words and my heart stops, my lungs inhaling a breath as if it’s their last one. I barge inside, ready to kill my second-in-command if he so much as said something mean to her, and find that he didn’t say anything. Anything at all.
He humiliated her.
He poured soup on her head instead of feeding it to her.
I’ve seen this before. My father did it to clan whores when they would go into heats, begging for his knob. My mother looked the other way. They weren’t mates.
The poor female sits on the bed cross-legged, staring at me, fish soup running down her face as Dan stands from the chair with a grunt. He drags the bloody boar across the floor as he leaves. “She thought I was going to fuck her.” He snorts. “Accepted the bowl, was gonna drink it even if she’svergicto fish and boar.”
It’s allergic, not vergic, but most lycans would have a difficult time understanding food allergies. Not to mention, we don’t have a word for this in our language. The term is borrowed or made up, as Dan made it up.
The male leaves, and I exhale the breath I held, my heartbeat settling and my lungs processing air again. I have no idea why thinking she might be harmed nearly killed me. Maybe I need a damn healer.
Marybell wipes her face with the stained pillow. “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.”
I’m not worried about the damn pillow or the bedding that’s drenched in fish soup. I’m more worried about the fact the breeder doesn’t seem well. She’s pale and sickly looking and now rejected.
“I brought a healer.” I tug my arm so that the healer who is hiding behind me comes around. I tug again, and when she lets go of my wrist and remains at my back, I ask, “What’s the matter with you now?” Let it be known that a pack launa, which is an alpha lycan female, deals with pack females. I’m out of practice, though I shall survive this bit too.
“You never said your breeder was Marybell Hanna.”
“I didn’t think she needed introduction.”
“I don’t,” the breeder says.
The healer walks around me, and Marybell’s eyes widen.
“Traitor!” Marybell shouts and vaults out of the bed as healthy as a mare. She marches toward the healer, who hides behind me again so that Marybell is forced to stand in front of me.
“What the hell is she doing here?”
“I’m a healer,” the other one says from behind me.
It appears I won’t survive after all.
“You’re a traitor!” Fury colors the breeder’s face bright red. She lifts her fists to her chest level as if she intends to box with the healer. Or me. She jabs me in the belly and then yelps, holding her hand. “Ouch, ouch! Did you swallow a rock?”
I rub my belly. “No.”
“Traitors are punished! Stand back, lycan. I have a score to settle with her.”
I stand back. I do. I’m amused as fuck.
Marybell holds up her one good fist and shakes it. “You hurt milady and almost killed her.” The other fist she holds at her side, probably sore from trying to hurt me. Hehe.
The healer shakes her head. “My late husband did that, and he paid for it with his life, so I don’t know whatcha going on at me about.”
“Your lot is wanted in the McMar clan.”
