Secretly Mated(14)

Christina went cold, realization stunning her. Her blood might as well have been ice water.

He’d aimed for her womb. The male that did this intended to ruin the panther’s chances at young. She’d denied him, not wanting to mate for whatever reason, and his response was to ruin her for any others.

It was chilling.

Please don’t let my male be as cruel as this one. Please.

“Cleaver, hand me that gauze. You cleaned up yet, Owyn? Gonna need all hands for this.”

“Almost, doctor. Hang on.”

She nodded. He seemed a touch more level as he pulled a shirt over his head. The panic was gone, replaced with determination. He looked ready to fight off a whole pack of males if need be. But really she just needed him to keep the wound clear of blood while she and Cleaver did the patch job.

The next few hours were touch and go, while Christina worked her way through the wounds, stitching and binding, and Cleaver kept a watch on the female’s vitals. Her animal would do the majority of healing on its own, with time, if they could stem the bleeding.

The bears returned, saying nothing, but giving Cleaver a look that meant business. “It’s taken care of,” one said.

Cleaver nodded. “We’ll try to locate the family, but seriously, they probably aren’t missing him.”

They set a bundle of random items on the counter. Some clothes, and a cell phone it looked like.

“Found this stuff in the woods. Might belong to her.”

Christina tied off the last of the sutures. “Here,” she said to Owyn after applying thick dressing to the stitches. “Apply pressure. Not too much, just a little. It’ll keep blood from seeping between the stitches.”

Owyn pressed his hand over the dressing while Christina cleaned up.

“Now what?” he asked. “Is she in the clear?”

Christina glanced at Cleaver. The older shifter was quiet. Cleaver was a kaleidoscope. He had so many different facets he was hard to pin down. But right now he was pensive, calm, and in charge, even if he wasn’t doing the commanding.

“Now we wait,” Christina announced. “See what her panther can do for her. But she’s young and she’s strong. I believe she’ll walk away from this attack with only some scars.” She pressed her lips together to stall the words. “Inside and out.”

Cleaver crossed his arms over his wide chest. “What do we know about her?”

The bears started rattling off details.

“Name is Tana. She’s new around these parts. Doesn’t belong to a clan.”

“Fresh,” the other bear said. “Barely more than a young. Maybe a few years out.”

Damn it. Too young to be rendered infertile. Christina was stricken with sadness for the female.

Cleaver frowned. “What about her mate? What do we know of him besides that he’s an asshole. And dead.”

The bears glanced at each other. They were brothers. Maybe even twins. They shared the same grim expression, the same flare of anger in their eyes.

“Mean as fuck, from what we’ve heard. And not from around here.”

“From Memphis way. Only came here to scent out his mate. He’s been giving everyone around the bar a hard time. Anymore shit, and we were going to kick his ass to the curb.”

“No need now,” the other bear said, crossing his huge arms over his chest and nodding at Owyn. “Big guy over there took care of him good.”

“Real good,” his brother agreed. “Bastard’s head was hanging by sinew.”

Cleaver eyed the Ouachita cat where he stood, holding the dressing to the panther’s stitches. “That right?”

The bears nodded in unison, but Cleaver looked troubled.

What was Owyn’s story, Christina wondered. It was odd to see a feline male so defensive of a female. Sometimes mated males would fight for their woman, but often they couldn’t be bothered.

A sad truth about her kind.

But this one, he’d killed to keep the panther safe even though she wasn’t his. To keep her from being forced into mating. Or to avenge her near fatal injury.

Either way, it made him a mystery.

“She have any family?” Christina asked. They couldn’t very well leave her lying on the table while she healed. She needed someone to look after her.

“No. None that we know of. She had a room down at Deb’s.”

Deb’s Den. They rented rooms by the hour, week, or month. Whichever suited your need. The cockroaches stayed for free.

Christina turned to Cleaver. “She needs somewhere safe to stay. Deb’s is no place for her to recover. Not with these kinds of wounds.”

He shook his head, looking regretful. “We don’t have room. You’ve got the back shed. The boys and I fill the upstairs. There’s just nowhere for her to go. It’s not like I own a mansion here, Doc.”