Page 25 of Mated By the Alphas
Morgan is a witch who specializes in healing. He would have been called a Witch Doctor, once upon a time, but humans stole that name long ago. Tried to mimic magic and potions with gibberish and snake oil. He’s the real deal. He can treat my wounds, and if Daisy is going to survive what has been done to her, he’s her best shot.
“I’ll take her,” I try to make my voice sound reassuring as I make eye contact with Ansley and gesture to Daisy.
Ansley is reluctant to let go of her best friend, but she seems to trust me. I’m not sure why. If our roles were reversed, I’m not sure I would trust a giant who can shift into a wolf.
“Be careful with her, please,” Ansley says as she lets me pick Daisy up.
I’m hurt, but carrying Daisy doesn’t add any stress to my system. I make sure the blanket is secure around my waist, then duck underneath the door and follow Morgan inside. Ansley trails behind us, looking around cautiously.
Morgan’s home is exactly what you’d expect from a witch who straddles the line between the old world and one we’re forced to live in.
The space is cluttered but organized in a way that only makes sense to him. The walls are lined with shelves that sag under the weight of glass jars filled with herbs, dried flowers, roots, and things I don’t want to identify floating in murky liquids. Some of the jars glow faintly with a soft light.
Bundles of sage, lavender and other plants hang from the ceiling, drying in clusters that fill the air with a thick, earthy scent. Incense burns in multiple corners, the smoke curling upward in wispy spirals. Lit candles cast shadows that dance across the walls.
Morgan leads us down a hallway, past his living room, and into the room where he tends to patients. I’ve been here before, but not in a long time.
“In here,” Morgan says, gesturing to a modern medical table in the center of the room. “Put her on the table so I can examine her.”
The table looks like one you’d find in a hospital. It’s stainless steel, adjustable, with a light hanging over it that can be angled. There’s a rolling cart nearby stocked with surgical tools, IV bags, and some medicine.
I carefully hoist Daisy up on the table and pull her shirt over her breasts, giving her back some modesty. Morgan wafts a hand in my direction, ushering me away from the table.
“You’ll live. She might not,” he mutters. “Let me take care of her first.”
“She might not live?” Ansley whimpers.
“We got her here in time. I can still hear her heartbeat,” I try to keep my voice gentle and reassuring as I move out of Morgan’s way. I growl, moving out of Morgan’s way.
“Those vampires had beating hearts too,” Ansley replies, still sounding quite worried about her best friend.
“Yes, but Daisy hasn’t died. Her heart beats with life, not death,” I explain.
I stand by a workbench in the corner of the room. It’s covered in mortar and pestles, beakers, and burners. Crystals, bones, feathers, and vials of colored powders are scattered carelessly beside them.
“I don’t usually treat humans that are this bad off,” Morgan sighs. “But a hospital doesn’t know how to treat vampire bites.”
I seem to be in the way again. Morgan walks closer to the workbench and shoos me, so I move closer to Ansley. She takes Daisy’s hand and squeezes it, whispering reassurances as tears pool in her eyes.
Her pain is my pain. I feel an ache in my chest. Thisisa true mate bond. We’re meant for each other, but the bond doesn’t feel complete, like there’s still missing pieces, but I don’t know what they are.
Morgan begins mixing some sort of potion or tincture. He’s short and lean with bronze colored skin. He appears to be in his late thirties, but he’s much older. Not as old as my brothers and I, but he’s seen things humans call history.
“This will make the vampire venom bubble out and seal her wounds,” Morgan says aimlessly, turning around with a beaker in his hand that is filled with red, smoky liquid. “But I’ll need to use a little magic first. Just a simple sleep spell to ensure she doesn’t wake up. It’ll take some time for her to recover, and it’s best if she’s not thrashing around or asking questions while her body heals.”
“Do what you need to do,” I tell him.
Morgan walks closer to the table. He puts a hand on Daisy’s hand and chants something in a language too old for any translation to exist. His palm glows orange for a moment, then Daisy relaxes, drifting into a slumber that won’t end until Morgan reverses the spell.
“There. Much better,” Morgan murmurs, filling a dropper with the red liquid.
Morgan bares Daisy’s chest, and I look away. Ansley squeezes Daisy’s hand tighter, a tear finally rolling down her cheek.
A drop of red liquid goes on every mark the vampires left on Daisy’s skin. Some fizz dribbles out and Morgan wipes it away, waiting to make sure the wound closes before moving on to the next one. Daisy will have a few scars, but they’ll barely be morethan indentions. Nobody will notice them unless they know what they are.
“She’s strong, despite losing a lot of blood,” Morgan says as he finishes treating the last bite mark. He turns to us and puts the beaker down, wiping his brow. “However, she will need a blood transfusion, and I can’t use your blood. Wolves and humans don’t mix.”
“Patch me up and I’ll go find some. There’s a hospital nearby. I’m sure I can find some human grade O negative.” I’m already planning my route.
