Different constitution
Killian
Kendrick loomed over her. His arms crossed over his chest and eyes filled with questions. He had pulled off his bloody white lad coat he insisted on wearing since he returned from the human world claiming he knew all about human medicine. He took his time to observe her, and I hated that.
“I have never treated a human before,” he said, his hand gently probing the fabric that I had ripped from my shirt to stop a wound from bleeding out.
So much for knowing all about human medicine.
“They always had weaker constitutions,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “For what it’s worth, I did spend several years at a human medical school, so I’m not entirely without knowledge.”
He looked at me with a triumphant smile. The smile, however, faltered.
I knew very little of how I looked, but if I would guess, I looked like an invincible beast. My eyes glowed golden—most likely my wolf was, after all, close to the surface. I felt my claws pushing against my nails, begging for freedom. Freedom to rip something. Freedom to kill something. As if the rogue that hurt her wasn’t enough—but it wasn’t. I would find their leader and rip the bastard to shreds.
Rational thought seemed to escape me. All I wanted was revenge. All I wanted was blood. And I would get it.
But why did I feel this way? Why was I worried so much? Hadn’t she rejected me already? Yet why did I feel tethered to her? Why did her pain feel as though it came from me?
I could feel the throbbing in my side. It was dull, but it was there. It was as though she hadn’t rejected me at all. My eyes found Kendrick again, focusing on him.
He shook his head. “I’ll do what I can—probably clean her wound and stitch it. I’ll need some alcohol and a few other things.”
He turned his face to his nurse, who ran quickly out of the room and came back moments later with a surgical tray containing what he needed.
I watched him work. He used scissors to cut off her dress up the side, which somehow earned a growl from me. I didn’t want him to see her like that, even though he had no choice but to take off her clothes.
“Forgive me, Alpha, but I must do this…” his eyes practically pleaded with me.
“She’s still bleeding,” he said. “Please let me do this.”
I gave him a stiff nod, reining in my beast as he continued to cut off her dress. Eventually, he exposed her bleeding side, poured alcohol on the wound, and put pressure on it until he was confident enough to clean the area and stitch the wound.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he said warily, washing his hands in the tray the nurse provided.
I raised my eyebrow in response.
“From what I know of human anatomy, they tend to die quicker when they lose blood.”
He wiped his hands on his trousers.
“Take mine.” I stretched out my hand in invitation.
“It doesn’t work that way, Alpha.” He shook his head, letting his apple-red hair fall over his vivid eyes. “Your blood must be the same type. Humans have this thing called blood type… it makes things slightly complicated. If you give her your blood, it could kill her. Tricky business.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “That, and I don’t know what could happen if I give her your blood. Normal humans might turn or die if mauled by a Lycan.”
“She looks like she wants to die.”
I looked away from him and back to the still form of the human. Her silence was much too deafening. She was too still, too lifeless. Her already pale skin was now a greyish-white colour that bore a close resemblance to a corpse.
“Give her my blood,” I said, feeling a strange calm at the thought.
“I don’t think you understand, Alpha,” he said, his steps getting closer to me. “Humans can’t take blood from just anyone. She really could die.”
He put a hand on my shoulder and gave what he probably thought was a reassuring squeeze. What it was, however, was pesky, hopeless, and annoying to a fault.
“You want me to rely on fate and the hope that she will survive as a human after losing so much that she looks dead?”
He pulled his hand off.
"I'm saying we wait," he said slowly. "It's possible she survives it without risking her life."
I looked at him. Kendrick stared back. I knew he wanted to ask why I was keeping her alive, but he wasn't a fool. He would have put the pieces together by now. After all, when he came into my room, I was clutching her for dear life in my half-form, snarling at every male who came close enough. His nurse was the one who finally pried me from the human.
"I know," I said. "I know it's too much of a risk. She could die, but look," I said. "Listen—it's faint. Too faint."
I felt my hands shake too much, so I balled them into fists.
"She will die if we wait."
I looked at him. He'd plopped on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his face scrunched in worry.
"It would be an experiment," he finally said. "A deadly one. It won't be my fault, Alpha, if your mate dies."
I felt my heart stop for a moment at his words. I looked at him again. Resolve was plastered on his face. He'd try, but he'd not be blamed. It was against all he knew to do. As pack healer, Kendrick would rather endanger his life for his patient to survive. His Lycan patient. Not his human patient.
"Fine," I said, leaning back against the wall where I sat.
He stood instantly, calling out to the nurse who had left the room earlier. She poked her head into the room with wide brown eyes filled with questions.
"Get me a transfusion kit."
She furrowed her eyebrows but left anyway.
"This is foolhardy," he mumbled. "Some might say it's a taboo, but—" He smacked his hands together, drawing my attention from the human back to him. "Let it be known I was the first to attempt this madness."
He smiled skeptically as the door opened to reveal the nurse again with another tray in hand. Kendrick, with the tray in hand, stomped over to me and reached for my arm. In a quick act, he smacked the inside of my elbow, thrust the needle attached to a long tube in with no fear or favor. He did the same to the human, in a much gentler manner, and waited.
My blood began to flow from my arteries into her body, and for a moment, I held my breath, watching the blood flow into her. So avoided, so slow. I held my breath, watching—watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in a little too slowly. I still listened for her soft heartbeat—the too-soft heartbeat that was just a step from death. My hand reached for hers, and I found myself touching the cold skin of her hand. It was too cold—she was very well nearly dead.
Nothing happened for a good moment or two, and then more. Even Kendrick stopped breathing, taking cues from me as we both watched her. Then it happened—in a flash, her finger twitched once, twice, and soon, just as hope was about to envelop my mind, she began to convulse violently. A little too violently, to the point of nearly removing the needle in her arm.
"Dammit," Kendrick said just as I held her arms down and he touched her forehead. "She's warming up, which might mean she's rejecting the blood. I don't know."
"We wait," I said, my eyes meeting his.
He said nothing. He simply stared down at the shaking woman, who was now foaming at the mouth, by the way. Soon the foaming stopped, along with the convulsions, but she was still again. Her heart beating a little too loud and fast in my ears. I could hear the way the blood rushed in her veins—too fast, too loud, too much.
Without waiting, I pulled out the needle from my arm and then hers. The shaking stopped for the most part, and her heartbeat did slow. That was it. A little color, a little pink, had returned to her body, and she was warmer now. But that didn’t mean she was out of the clear.
I let out a sigh of relief, letting go of her less-shaking arms and sitting on the bed. Just as I was about to open my mouth, I heard Lucas’s footsteps and then him opening the door.
"The council has called a meeting. Now," he said. "They heard about the rogues."
My eyes met his blue ones. His eyes were fixed on her, his expression sour, sad, and worried. I found myself knowing precisely what that meant. By no stretch of my imagination would I imagine that Lucas would be attached to the human.