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“What’s brought you in here today…”
“Freya,” I responded to his unspoken question. “And I’ve had weakness and fever for days. Nothing seems to quell it.”
The older man who was losing his hair and gaining wrinkles faster than I was weakening, cleared his throat and approached me. “Soren said you were his mate, but my nose tells me otherwise.”
Gods above and below. That was a man for you. You come in with a sinus infection, it must be your weight. You come in with depression and anxiety, it must be your hormones. A little irritable? Must be that time of the month or menopause.
Was he really trying to hint at what I thought he was?
This clan needed a female healer, yesterday.
“What does that have to do with my fever and weakness?”
The man checked all the obvious places—my ears, my mouth, my tonsils—pushed on my belly, asked about intestinal issues and menstrual cycles. He finally stepped back and looked at me, his hands on his hips. “I’m not seeing anything that would cause a fever.”
“Can you see an infection?” I asked, my entire body tensing up with the adrenaline forced into me by my anger. “A virus?”
The healer, and I used that term loosely, squinted at me and took a seat on his rolling black stool. He made some notes on his clipboard and then nailed me with a stare.
“Without any other symptoms, I’m highly doubtful this is an infection, female.”
It took everything in me not to roll my eyes and send him and his rolling stool barreling back a century. “Okay, so what is your diagnosis?”
“I think this is a mating fever. You’ve been living amongst your betrothed without being fully mated and bedded for far too long. Your dragon is desperate for her mates, that’s what I suspect. It’s not natural for a female to be living with males and not be…taken already.”
I let out a long breath and tried to reel in my rage before I blew fire all over this place and burned down the mountain.
This guy thought penis was the answer. Because, for men, penis will always be the answer.
“I understand. I think it’s time for me to go.”
The man grumbled something about lesser females, but I let it go, anything to get out of this testosterone-filled clinic and back to reality. I would pump myself full of Hilda’s tea and rest as much as possible until this all healed itself. Hilda said that when left alone, most things would heal themselves. After all, if my body could change from human to dragon in a snap of the fingers, surely it could figure out how to heal itself of an infection or whatever the hell this was ravaging it.
The man followed me out, and I found all three of my mates pacing the tiny waiting room, their arms crossed over their chests, all of them looking solemn and grumpy.
“Well?” Nico was the first to burst forth and demand information.
“There is nothing to be concerned with. Her body is going through some changes, but everything will sort itself out. She needs rest and hydration.”
“Huh?” I said, wanting more than ever to strangle this joker. He was telling them I was fine and just needed rest. That was a blaring opposition to what he had told me. “That’s not what you—”
“Oh…” The man moved to place his palm on my forehead but I darted out of the way. “It’s the fever talking. It can cause delusions and mixed emotions.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I expected my mates to beat the hell out of this man for saying I was delusional, but instead they ate the bullcrap right out of his hands.
If the fever didn’t kill me, the rage in my chest certainly would.
“Enough!” I yelled and pushed through the crowd of mates around me. I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough. Weakness or fever be damned, I marched out of that place as fast as my short legs would take me.
Chapter Eighteen
The healer being a waste of time was not a surprise. But my mates’ betrayal was. True, lessers rarely got in to see the healer, but it was probably just as well. There could not be a more incompetent buffoon charged with the health of this pack.
In fact, the lessers were probably in better shape because they so rarely got in to see the man. Basically, if they cut a body part badly enough that it was hanging by a thread, they would be admitted to have it sewn back on or at least stabilized if the doctor thought a shift would fix it. It almost always would although not necessarily perfectly.
I stalked into the suite and straight into my room where I proceeded to have a total hissy fit. I wouldn’t have thought I’d have the energy, but I was so horribly frustrated. Did that ass of a doctor truly think that having sex with my mates would get rid of a fever? I was no medical genius, but even I knew that “lack of cock” was not fever-inducing. Mating fever? That was usually a phrase used to refer to a couple who were hot for each other and hadn’t yet taken the plunge. Not for a literal temperature increase and weakness.
