Joseph's POV
Despite the agony coursing through my shattered leg, I find myself captivated by every moment spent with my mate. Dorothy possesses qualities I've never encountered in any woman or she-wolf before. Beyond her absurd belief that I might reject her, she displays a refreshing authenticity. Her habit of muttering observations under her breath, as though speaking to herself in private, thoroughly entertains me. Every whispered word reaches my ears clearly, and without our mating bond completed, these glimpses into her unguarded thoughts serve as the next best thing to reading her fascinating mind directly.
Her expressive face mirrors every fleeting emotion behind those murmured comments.
She hasn't mastered the art of concealing her reactions, nor does she seem to care about maintaining such pretenses. Once again, I find this transparency absolutely invigorating.
She makes no attempt at coy manipulation or calculated charm simply because I hold the Alpha title. Instead, she appears determined to distance herself from me precisely because of my rank.
That won't be happening. I've spent far too long searching for this brilliant little doctor to release her now.
"Addressing your question, Karl, Dr. Dorothy is methodically reconstructing my leg piece by piece, which I vastly prefer to Dr. Anker' proposed solution of complete amputation," I explain, watching my Beta's eyes snap to meet mine. He immediately grasps the full implications of my statement. As my second-in-command, Karl stands next in line for pack leadership. Fortunately, I have complete faith in my Beta, and I know he harbors no ambition for the Alpha position. Leadership demands tremendous sacrifice, and his exceptional service as Beta already lightens that burden considerably.
"Are you at least using pain medication?" he inquires, his expression twisting with distaste as he observes Dorothy's delicate work.
"Completely unreasonable Alpha," Dorothy mutters disapprovingly, clearly eavesdropping on our exchange while offering her uncensored assessment of my decisions.
Karl glances at me with raised eyebrows. 'She realizes we can hear every word, correct?' he questions through our mental connection.
'Evidently not,' I respond, unable to suppress my amusement.
"No medications whatsoever," I answer aloud.
'I'm beginning to share her opinion,' he replies, scowling with obvious concern.
"Brief me on Demetrius's situation. Did you eliminate him?" I ask, keeping my attention fixed on my mate's concentrated efforts.
"Oliver, are you prepared?" she asks softly, her complete focus devoted to the intricate procedure.
"Ready, my mate," Oliver responds, and Karl shifts his position to observe as Oliver begins mending my fractured bone.
"Holy hell! That's absolutely incredible!" he exclaims with genuine amazement.
"I know, right?" my mate agrees, flashing a radiant smile at my Beta. Without conscious thought, I release a possessive snarl.
Both of them startle violently, and while her sudden movement sends fresh agony through my newly healed bone, the repair holds firm.
"My apologies, Alpha," Karl immediately responds, exposing his throat in submission.
She watches Karl's submissive gesture, then fixes her gaze on me, her lips forming a tight line of disapproval.
I lean forward, ensuring my words reach her clearly.
"You belong to ME."
"What I am is your PHYSICIAN. Temporarily. And if you prefer to avoid having me abandon this procedure and allow Dr. Anker to remove your entire leg, I strongly suggest you control that territorial behavior while my hands are working inside your mangled limb," she snaps with fierce determination.
I settle back, struggling not to reveal my admiration for her bold defiance. Damn, her spirit ignites something primal within me.
Turning toward my Beta while maintaining visual contact with Dorothy, I continue, "Report on Demetrius's status."
"When you failed to intercept him, he successfully reached his pack territory. Given our knowledge of their defensive measures, we avoided crossing their borders."
"What type of defensive measures? Oliver, proceed," Dorothy interjects without lifting her eyes from her work. I tilt my head curiously. Does she consider herself part of this strategic discussion? I don't object to her involvement, though most medical professionals would maintain professional detachment from such conversations.
Not my mate, however. She maintains complete authenticity in every interaction.
Somehow, she manages multiple tasks simultaneously, absorbing our discussion while continuing her surgical work, guiding Oliver through each bone reconstruction.
"Spring-loaded wooden spikes concealed underground," Karl responds carefully, clearly mindful of avoiding further territorial displays.
"Senseless pack conflicts, unnecessary bloodshed," she mumbles critically.
Karl's attention returns to me, and I smile knowingly.
"Nevertheless," he continues, refocusing our discussion. "We obtained one troubling piece of intelligence."
"Which is?" I prompt.
"Alpha Harvey has died. Dean now leads their pack."
Had I not been watching her so intently, I would have missed it completely.
Her remarkably steady hand faltered momentarily. I raise my hand, signaling Karl to pause. I frown as tremors begin affecting her grip.
"Forgive me, Alpha. I require a brief recess," she announces, stepping away without waiting for my permission. She strips off her surgical gloves and hurries from the room.
"Follow her movements. Maintain distance, but ensure she doesn't leave the premises," I instruct Karl.
"Understood, Alpha."
After their departure, I lean back contemplatively, though concentration proves difficult with my exposed leg throbbing mercilessly on the surgical table.
The door opens as Dr. Anker enters uninvited. "I predicted she would fail, Alpha. I mean..." he stops abruptly, staring at my opened limb. "Look at this disaster! I'll prepare for the amputation immediately."
"Absolutely not. She's taking a necessary break, and for your information, she's successfully realigning my bone structure. Remove yourself from my surgical suite immediately, doctor," I growl menacingly.
"Alpha, I must strongly protest..."
"What you must do is obey your Alpha's direct orders. GET OUT!" I roar.
The door bursts open as Dorothy rushes back inside, discovering Dr. Anker' presence.
"What is wrong with you? You never abandon a patient during active surgery!"
"KARL!" I bark sharply.
"Dr. Anker," he states with remarkable composure compared to my fury, holding the door while gesturing for the doctor's immediate departure.
Dr. Anker huffs indignantly but complies with the dismissal.
"My sincere apologies, Alpha. Dr. Anker speaks correctly. I should never leave during an active procedure." She avoids meeting my gaze while Karl shrugs helplessly.
"What did you just call me?" I ask, my irritation with Dr. Anker sharpening my tone.
Her head snaps up to meet my eyes. "Alpha?"
I beckon her closer with a curved finger, and she approaches reluctantly. "And what specific instruction did I give you regarding my name?" I ask, softening my voice as I capture her chin between my thumb and forefinger, compelling her to maintain eye contact.
"Joseph," she responds, her deep emerald eyes nearly making me forget our clinical surroundings entirely.
"Joseph," I confirm, reluctantly releasing her delicate face. "Continue your work, Dr. Dorothy."
She nods acknowledgment and returns to my leg. I observe her taking a steadying breath before selecting several more bone fragments until she locates her target.
"Oliver?"
"Prepared, my mate," he responds, beginning his healing purr which helps stabilize both her hands and nerves. When her composure returns, I gesture for Karl's approach.
"Any additional serious injuries where Dr. Anker threatens similarly extreme interventions?" I inquire.
"Yours represents the most severe, Alpha. Several warriors have deep lacerations that he's treating with alcohol washes."
Dorothy inhales sharply and straightens, looking between us.
"Inappropriate treatment protocol?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I'm developing significantly greater confidence in her medical expertise than our current physician.
"Why wouldn't he simply suture those wounds?" she questions.
"He claimed the process would consume too much time given the number of casualties," Karl explains, observing her reaction closely. I value my Beta tremendously. However, until my mate bears my claiming mark, I dislike his obvious interest in her.
Dorothy, however, turns her attention directly to me. "Don't you have omegas in your packhouse who handle clothing repairs?"
"Certainly," I respond, frowning with curiosity.
"The technique remains essentially identical. Yes, skin tissue feels somewhat different, slightly tougher than fabric materials, but they possess the necessary skills without inflicting the agony that alcohol application creates in open wounds," she explains logically.
I look toward Karl. "Contact the omegas immediately, bring them here. Inform Dr. Anker his services are no longer required."
"But who will evaluate the remaining warriors?" he asks.
"Have the nursing staff provide initial diagnoses and treatment recommendations, then bring those assessments here for Dr. Dorothy's professional opinion."
"My opinion?" she asks, clearly surprised by this development.
"Yes, Dorothy. Your expert opinion. I'm beginning to believe you represent the ideal replacement for Dr. Anker' position."