Mate Bond
Page 17“There are Shifter healers?” Dr. Pat took another step toward the bed, caught up in her curiosity. “What do they do?”
Bowman shrugged. “They heal Shifters.”
Ryan had remained silent the entire time, having taken a seat on the chair Kenzie had vacated. He pretended not to be there, but he watched, and he listened. Smart cub.
“Really?” Dr. Pat asked. “Do you have clinics or special hospitals? I’ve never heard of them—do you think I could meet a healer?”
Bowman lifted one hand to slow her chatter. “There aren’t many around, and no, we don’t have our own clinics. We go to human ones. Healers are . . . special. And shy. Don’t try to find one.”
“Oh.” She looked puzzled. “Do they go to med school? How do you become a Shifter healer?”
“You’re born one,” Bowman said. “It runs in families. Parents train cubs.”
“Cubs . . . Oh, you mean kids.” She shot a glance at Ryan, who stared right back at her. “So it’s like an apprenticeship. Neat. The surgical practice was like that, ages ago, before we had med schools and vet schools. Surgeons historically were looked down upon by doctors, you know, and now surgeons are top of the profession. Strange, isn’t it?”
Her flush deepened. “I am. But not for humans. Animals pull my compassion—they have as many hurts and diseases as humans, and they need care too.”
“You don’t have to explain that to me. I’m surrounded by animals every day.”
Her eyes were starry. “Shifters are the best of both, aren’t they? Animal and human. The strengths of each. Maybe the weaknesses too? Would be fascinating to study . . .”
Bowman’s amusement swiftly died. “Humans like to study us a little too much,” he said in a hard voice. “They dragged us into laboratories when we were first discovered and tried to figure out what made us work. Not all Shifters survived the process.”
“Oh.” Now Pat was bright red and no longer smiling. “I didn’t mean like that. I mean study you to learn how to heal you. Like I studied to be a vet. I didn’t mean . . . dissection.”
“No, you didn’t.” Bowman looked her over. Harmless, he decided again. He read her scent, her eager chatter, the look in her eyes. She was interested in Shifters because they were Shifters, not for some ulterior motive.
That was his assessment, anyway. Kenzie would probably get a better reading of her. Kenzie was wise about people.
“It’s fun,” Pat said, meeting his gaze, her cheeks still pink. “That roadhouse you go to—the crowd isn’t really my scene, but if I dress up like the other girls, I get to watch Shifters. You and your friends think I’m just one of the groupies and don’t pay attention to me. I can stand by and observe, which is what I like to do.”
Bowman cocked a brow. “You know a lot of the groupies go there hoping for sex with a Shifter. What if one of mine took you up on it?”
She looked suddenly shy, shooting another look at the listening Ryan. Bowman had no problem discussing sex in front of his son—Ryan already knew Shifters enjoyed healthy sex lives. Ryan had no interest in it himself, wouldn’t until his Transition, but Shifters didn’t shield their cubs from knowledge of sex. Sex was natural—how else would they make more cubs?
“It might not be such a bad thing,” Dr. Pat said, flushing. She was a woman who couldn’t help being honest, Bowman deduced.
He laughed. A genuine laugh, which was something he hadn’t felt like doing in a long time. “Tell you what, Dr. Pat, when I’m better, I’ll introduce you to some Shifters. They like to talk about themselves, so you’ll learn a lot. Maybe more than you want to know.”
And Bowman’s Shifters knew better than to impart anything humans couldn’t already find out on their own. They’d feed Dr. Pat a lot of bullshit, and Shifter secrets would stay Shifter secrets.
Dr. Pat looked grateful. “I’d like that. Now, would you mind if I had a peek at your leg? As a doctor, of course. I’m very interested in seeing how it’s doing.”
When Kenzie returned, she knew instantly that someone else was in her house. She caught a whiff of scent as soon as she walked in the front door. Bowman’s and Ryan’s scents were the most predominant, as well as her own, but woven in with theirs was something female and clinical.
She recognized the scent a heartbeat later—the vet who’d set Bowman’s leg last night.
Sounds came next: a woman’s laughter and Bowman’s rumbling baritone. Kenzie strode down the short hall and slapped open the door to the bedroom she shared with her mate.
Bowman lay propped up on the bed’s pillows, covers over his hips, his hair still a mess. Ryan sat cross-legged on the chair, watching in silence. The vet was sitting at the end of the bed, Bowman’s bare leg in her lap, her hand on Bowman’s calf.
A sheen of red rose before Kenzie’s eyes, and a snarl clogged in her throat.