Page 17 of Fool Moon First Aid

We move swiftly down the hospital corridors, a blur of white walls and sterile lights. Ava lies on the gurney, her vibrant spirit dimming under the harsh lights.

At the OR, the trauma team, a solemn assembly of skilled professionals, awaits us. They take the gurney, wheeling Ava away from our protective circle.

“Mercy, take care of this one,” I say, the weight of my words laden with the unspoken bond that’s formed in mere moments. She’s imprinted on each of us with one glace of her beautiful brown eyes.

Mercy’s sharp gaze assesses the situation—and by situation, I mean us—then she responds with a raised eyebrow. “Interesting. Get out of my OR.”

“We’re scrubbing in,” Ethan states, a fierce glint in his eyes. His posture is stubborn as he crosses his arms.

“No, you are not,” Mercy counters, authoritative and unwavering. “This patient means something to you three, and I won’t have any mistakes in my OR. Get out,” she commands, her gaze flicking to security, reinforcing her order.

Damn her.

The OR doors close, severing our last visual link to Ava, leaving us in a limbo of anxiety and anticipation. Ethan’s voice, a mere whisper, reflects our shared helplessness. “I hate not being at her side.”

“Mercy is right—we’d only make a mistake,” Ty asserts, his eyes wide and worried “We found our mate, and I’m not about to lose her to a freaking snow globe.”

I spin around to face them, my body a live wire of fear and determination. “Tell me everything. What the hell happened?” It isn’t until that very moment that I realize I’m covered in my mate’s blood.

Ava

I’m meticulously savoring my third round of lime Jell-O—the undisputed champion of hospital desserts—when the door to my room swings open with a gentle creak. A strikingly handsome doctor strolls in, effortlessly blending the charm of the boy next door with a dash of rugged allure. His deep blue eyes, reminiscent of a stormy sea, contrast with his sexy five-o’clock shadow. His dark brown hair, tousled yet somehow perfectly styled, adds to his appeal. He flashes a crooked smile that could light up the darkest rooms and clutches a clipboard that likely holds secrets about my current embarrassing predicament.

The hospital room, with its pale blue walls, feels less sterile with his presence. Normally, I’d flirt in a heartbeat, but considering I’m lying in a crinkled hospital gown that’s seen better days, with my hair resembling a bird’s nest, I hesitate. Then again, who cares? I can always blame the meds.

“Dr. Dreamy,” I quip, my words muffled by a mouthful of Jell-O. Smiling at my own audacity is my second favorite pastime, right after indulging in sarcasm.

“Good morning, Ava,” he greets, his voice warm and comforting like a cozy blanket on a snowy night. Instead of standing at the foot of my bed like a typical doctor, he chooses the chair beside me, sinking into it with an oomph. He’s built like a bear—all muscle and masculine grace. His lab coat stretches slightly across his broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re feeling better,” he observes, a playful edge in his tone as his gaze sweeps over me. He looks at me with possessive eyes I can’t read, so I glance out the window and shove more Jell-O in my mouth.

Somewhere outside, a horn honks in the distance. The room, bathed in soft morning light, feels surprisingly cozy for a hospital. I can hear the distant bustle of the ward outside—a comforting reminder of normalcy. I glance at him, taking a moment to appreciate his presence. His approachability is almost as disarming as his crooked smirk.

He has a dimple.

“If I’m honest,” I reply after swallowing a spoonful of Jell-O, using my utensil like a makeshift wand, “the last thing I remember is a wolf duo flanking the ambulance doors, and then…nothing. I woke up to the sight of lime Jell-O, which is, by the way, a little slice of heaven.” I gesture to the half empty cup, its green hue vibrant against the stark white of the hospital tray.

Dr. Dreamy leans forward, resting his chin on his fist, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “So you don’t remember hitting on me then?”

I pause, a flicker of embarrassment crossing my face. “Listen, if it’s going to inflate your already noticeable ego, maybe we shouldn’t go down that road.” I dive back into my Jell-O cup, hiding behind the plastic. The coolness of the dessert is a welcome disparity to the warmth spreading across my cheeks.

His laughter fills the room, easing the tension. “You might be missing a few details from last night.”

I can’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. “Such as?”

“Well, for starters, the snake that slithered off your neck,” he says, watching me closely.

I freeze, my hand instinctively flying to my neck. “Oh no.” My voice is a mere whisper. The memory of my pet snake, the slinky, mischievous creature, floods my mind.

“Don’t worry,” he assures me, his chuckle softening the blow. “That wolf duo? They are part of my bonded pack. Tyler seems to have taken a liking to you. He brought your snake home with him and didn’t eat it, surprisingly.”

My eyes widen in relief and surprise. “She’s an escape artist,” I admit quietly, a smile tugging at my lips. The image of my snake, a sleek, pink little thing with eyes full of cunning, flashes before me.

I should feed her to a wolf for the shenanigans she created.

“We figured,” he says, a playful glint in his eye. Is he looking at my lips? No, that couldn’t be. “Tyler got her home, set up a tank he bought on the way, and by morning, the lid was off and she was gone.”

I wince sympathetically. “Yeah, she needs a reinforced lid. High places are her throne. She likes to look down on all her subjects.” I scoop up more Jell-O, the tangy taste rushing over my tastebuds. “Did he find her?”

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