The speed at which he does this doesn’t make it any easier to watch. The arrow comes out with a wretched sizzle, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh. The stench of it makes me want to retch. It also makes me really happy the wolf-bound Viking is still unconscious. I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to be awake for this.
But after the arrow’s out, I take one of the Viking’s large hands in mine. I’m somehow unable to deny the strange desire to comfort him. Even though he’s still knocked out. And even though I’m not a huge fan of physical contact—I mean I could barely stand to participate in Aunt Wilma’s mandatory family pre-party family hugs before this truly surreal night.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Leesma tells me as he removes his surgical gloves and picks up a huge syringe from a nearby counter. “Poor guy should return to wolf form soon, then I’ll give him something to help him sleep this nasty wound off.”
But he doesn’t change back. We wait and wait, with Dr. Leesma braced to hit him with a whole lot of tranquilizer as soon as he goes wolf. But Olafr continues to lie there, motionless as a corpse.
“Why hasn’t he shifted yet?” I ask the doctor after twenty more minutes of watching the unconscious male on the gurney.
He answers me with a worried frown. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much about this condition since we don’t have any wolf-bound shifters here in Wolf Lake. Also, I’ve never heard of a case of a wolf-bound shifter changing into a human, so I’m afraid this is all new territory to me. But it might be that whatever kept him from transforming back into a human, is now keeping him from turning back into a wolf.”
“So then…” I squeeze the stranger’s hand inside of mine. “Maybe you should think about patching up the arrow wound?” I don’t know much about infections, but I binge-watched like a million seasons of Grey’s Anatomy while coding Viking Shifters and I’m fairly certain you’re not suppose to leave patients lying around with open wounds for too long.
Another frown from the doctor. “That would require stitches…and maybe some kind of cauterization, I think.” He pulls a phone out of his back pocket. “Let me make some calls…” After fiddling with his phone for a minute, he says, “Dammit, I can’t get enough bars in here. I’ve got to go outside.”
“Are you serious?” I ask him, feeling more than a little alarmed.
He just gives me a weary sigh. “Listen, I went to what amounts to a special version of vet school. Wolf docs are trained in the bare bones of human medicine, with C-sections thrown in for fun, and that’s pretty much it. If this had been an episiotomy, no problem. I know how to deal with those. But with males, my biggest problem is typically them going wolf in the middle of a procedure. I’ve never had to bandage so much as a deep cut. So yes, after a five-decade career of never seeing anything like this, I need a little help figuring out what to do with a silver-arrow wound. Just…”#p#分页标题#e#
He hands me the huge syringe.
“Just make sure he doesn’t roll over. I’ll try to make it quick, but if he wakes up, yell for me and stick him with that as soon as he changes.”
I do not feel at all equipped to deal with this giant male possibly transforming on me while Dr. Leesma is outside getting the basics on human wound treatment. But it’s not like I have a choice. The doctor leaves before I can open my mouth to ask another question.
But he’s probably right, I think, nervously glancing at the large wolf’s angry arrow wound with its blackened edges. It must be something to do with him being wolf-bound that’s making it difficult for him to shift back into his wolf form. And this is not good news for the Viking on the table. We heal much faster in wolf form, and we also feel less pain. If he wakes up now, the pain from the arrow extraction would be blinding—
The Viking wolf’s eyes suddenly pop open, then squeeze shut again as he’s overtaken with pain. He bellows like an animal, and his large body pitches forward on the table, one heavily muscled leg kicking over the nearby surgical tray with the bone saw.
Sadly, without a game controller in my hand, my reflexes aren’t much to write home about. So instead of sticking the Viking with the syringe like any capable she-wolf would in this situation, the tranq goes flying right out of my hand.
I throw an apologetic look at Olafr, and am nearly overtaken with guilt when I see just how bad he’s suffering. His whole face is constricted in a terrible rictus, his teeth bared wide as he bellows again.