Joseph's POV
The warm scents of cinnamon and nutmeg pull me from unconsciousness. My thoughts drift in confusion as I struggle to piece together recent events. Then everything crashes back into focus. I found her. My mate. Dorothy.
My body tenses, instinct driving me to sit up and confirm she remains here with me, but Oliver restrains my movements.
'Take it slow, Joseph. You don't want to disturb her,' my wolf practically purrs through our connection.
My eyes flutter open to find her head resting against the edge of my hospital bed, lost in deep sleep. Whether guided by Oliver's influence or pure instinct, my fingers thread through her silky hair, stroking gently as she rests.
She's positioned awkwardly in a chair pulled close to the bed, her posture screaming discomfort. A glance at my injured leg reveals she completed the bone reconstruction while I remained unconscious, stitching the wounds closed and wrapping everything in clean bandages.
