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She rushed over, dropping her basket beside the front porch, where she fell to her knees.
He was a rather muscular man, lying face up. His eyes squinted upon seeing her. He struggled to speak, his voice faltering, probably from the dagger sticking out of his abdomen.
“Who did this to you?”
She had seen him around the area, and immediately upon observing him, she realized why the scent was so familiar. He was the pack alpha, and all alphas had a certain scent about them. Maybe arrogance and cruelness had a smell no one had figured out yet.
Blood ran over her fingers as she placed her hands on the incision point, deciding how best to approach the situation. Thewarm, thick liquid dripped off his clothing and onto the wooden porch.
Finding a solution for this should be second nature to her. She was a pack healer.
“Just hang on,” she said, gently cradling the man. “We’re going to get you some help, okay?”
Why was she helping this beast of a man, given everything she had to overcome to get to this point in her life? Had she not devoted herself to breaking free from pack alphas?
Strange, these wounds were far too critical to be from a regular knife. When she gripped the handle of the dagger, her skin sizzled. Her arm snapped backward through the air, rocking her onto her derriere.
“What the hell?” Somebody had lodged a silver dagger into this wolf. That couldn’t have been by accident. The specific metal needed to infect a wolf was hard to find. Much less to make into a dagger.
His piercing blue eyes opened wide and then fluttered as he attempted to fight what was happening to his body.
“… me rest,” he growled, squirming against her touch.
She had to get him inside. If she helped him on her porch or left him out here to die, more wolves would be coming for him. And that was exactly the sort of trouble Iris didn’t want in her life.
Her eyes searched the area around her home as she spoke. “I’m going to prop you up, okay? So don’t fight me.”
She draped his right arm over her shoulder, then attempted to stand with him wrapped around her. He was incredibly bulky, and it took everything in her not to simply topple over. He looked muscular enough, and she even found herself coveting him slightly, but he was also very solid.
What was worse was that he was so broad. The two of them barely fit through the front door. She realized as she walked thathe was not bleeding from just one wound but from multiple. Somebody had taken a silver dagger to this werewolf and nearly carved him open, leaving multiple lacerations.
“You poor thing,” she whispered before pressing him more urgently into the door frame.
As she shoved forward, she knocked the knife inward and felt him wince.
“Sorry!”
She wished he’d talk so she knew he was okay.
But why do I care so much?
Without their alpha, the pack would either lean on the beta or dissolve entirely. In the latter case, she could finally be left alone. She shook her head, dismissing the horrible thought. As a healer, she had sworn an oath to protect her kind. It didn’t matter that she was without a pack or that it might be in her best interest to not intervene.
“Okay,” she said as he slumped against her, “you need to stay awake so you can help me move you.”
His shoulder relaxed as he came back into consciousness, and with great effort, she carried him to her sofa. As soon as she was certain he wouldn’t simply hit the floor, potentially lodging the dagger deeper, she let him down gently onto the couch.
She did what she could to stop the bleeding, applying pressure to the wounds one at a time. She needed to remove the dagger from his abdomen if he was going to heal. She suspected the silver was slowly poisoning the alpha.
Grabbing a warm, soapy washcloth, she cleaned his wounds before bracing herself and taking a deep breath.
She wrapped the washcloth around her hand and then grabbed the hilt. Even as he rested, she felt the man grunting and fighting her.
“We have to get this out of you.”
Thankfully, the blade didn’t appear to have hit any vital organs. It was really wedged in though. With all her might, she pulled, seeing more of the dagger’s silver revealed with every bit of effort. When the knife finally slid free, she tossed it to the floor.
Blood flowed out like water along a stream, and she stuffed the washcloth into the gash and put his hands on it to apply pressure at the main wound site.
