Page 3 of The Lycan King's Captive

Another shove, this time hard enough to make my teeth click together. “Remember our deal, Doctor.”

Anger pumped hot in my veins, but I kept my tone respectful and my head down. “I need my stethoscope to check its heart.”

“Get it.”

I knelt and pulled it from my bag, then tried to ignore the way the men watched me lean over the beast. Its heart rate was slow but steady, and a small wave of relief washed over me. There was no question my life was tied to the animal’s. If it died, Roman didn’t need me anymore.

The beast shivered again, but its eyes stayed closed when I ran my hands over its head and snout, checking its ears and nose. As I moved through the exam, instinct took over, and the tremors in my hands faded. The animal was a patient, and it needed help.

“Has it vomited?” I asked Roman as I palpated the beast’s neck, checking its lymph nodes.

“Harris,” he said, and a man across from me answered.

“Once. In his cell.”

I stopped. Cell?

Roman spoke just behind me, an edge of impatience in his voice. “What’s wrong with him?”

As long as I kept the exam going, I had some semblance of control. So I moved more slowly, running my hands down the animal’s front legs again. “Two broken ribs. No other fractures I can feel, but I need x-rays to be certain.”

“Anything else?”

“I…” My mind blanked.

Roman seized my arm and spun me around. His blue eyes were tinged with gold. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

My heart thudded painfully. “H-He looks like he’s been abused or tortured. His nose is dry. He’s shivering and vomiting. All symptoms of infection.”

“So how do you treat it?”

“Antibiotics. And maybe—”

“Do you have any?”

I swallowed. “In my bag. But I’d rather get some blood work before I give him anything.”

Roman squeezed my arm before releasing me. “Give him the drugs. Now.”

It went against everything I’d been taught as a veterinarian. I wanted to balk, but I had no doubt he would follow through on his threats without batting an eye. And who knew what he would do to the animal. If he thought the beast was too sick to be of more use to him, he might finish it off.

“The supplies are in my bag,” I told him.

“Get what you need. Do it quickly.”

I obeyed, loading a syringe with amoxicillin. Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I grasped the beast’s thigh, feeling for the muscle. “It would be better if you held him,” I dared to murmur. “If he moves, I could hit something important.”

Two of the men grasped the animal’s shoulders.

“Get on with it,” Roman said.

I held my breath as I plunged the injection deep.

Nothing happened.

The beast was still save for the rise and fall of its chest.

The room was quiet.

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