“Maybe later,” he said to the dog before getting on the floor and curling up in Dalton’s soft fur. “Maybe later the world won’t be so insane.”
* * * *
Simon, Dr. Scott’s assistant, came in early, setting his cup of coffee on his desk before he walked to the back to check on the overnight guests.
He could already hear Milo, the white dog that had been brought in yesterday after eating two chocolate bars. Simon was pretty sure Milo was okay, but Dr. Scott had wanted to make sure, so he’d kept him overnight.
He walked to the kennel and flung open the door. “Good morning, darlings. Did you miss me?”
Simon came to a stop when he spotted a large naked guy in the corner. Simon had to do a double take. There really was a huge freaking naked guy lying there, and some smaller guy draped over him.
Both were fast asleep on a pile of blankets.
Simon eased out of the room, ignoring Milo’s barking. What on earth was going on in this place? Had the two broken in and had sex while the animals watched?
He started toward his desk so he could call the cops, but ran into his boss. All Simon could do was point toward the kennel.
“Oh, you’ve been in there,” Dr. Scott said. “Don’t mind what you saw. I’m keeping him for observation.”
“You’re observing…” Simon blinked several times. Was his boss observing two men having sex?
“There’s nothing to be worried about.” Dr. Scott looked up from his electronic tablet. “He’s harmless and won’t hurt you.”
Simon needed a damn vacation.
Chapter Nine
Dalton had no idea where he was or why he was naked until he looked around and saw cages. One dog in particular was yapping and resting its front paws on the cage, its tail furiously wagging.
When he looked down, lying beside him, curled into a ball, was Sherman. His eyes were closed, and his lips were parted. There were even dried tears on his cheeks as he softly snored.
The IV pinched when Dalton bent his arm. He snatched the needle out and set it aside. The last thing he recalled was passing out in his living room. How had he gotten there, and had Sherman stayed with him the entire time?
Tearing his gaze away from his mate, Dalton flexed his right arm. It was sore as hell, and he couldn’t fully close his fingers, but he hoped that the doctor had cured him of whatever he was poisoned with. Maybe he needed more rest in his bear form to fully heal.
While Sherman slept, Dalton wanted answers. He walked to the door and cracked it open, stopping short when he heard voices. Across the hall Evan was talking with a woman who held her cat so close to her chest that the cat was wiggling to get free.
“Are you sure he’ll be okay? I don’t understand why cats like plastic. Every time I turn around Mr. Fuzzyballs is chewing on something he shouldn’t have in his mouth.”
Mr. Fuzzyballs? Had she really named her cat that? No wonder he was struggling to get free. He was probably trying to run away so he would never hear that name again.
“It could be his dental health, or he could have pica. He may even just like the sound the plastic makes,” Evan said. “Does he eat anything else he’s not supposed to?”
She shook her gray head. “No, just plastic bags from the store.”
“Ah.” Evan nodded. “He may smell the lingering order of food on them. Try putting them up and keep an eye on what he’s putting into his mouth. If his behavior continues, we’ll reevaluate him.”
The woman looked relieved, and then she batted her eyelashes at the doctor. “Thank you so much, Dr. Scott. I don’t know what this town would do without you.”
Dalton hid his grin. Evan was being hit on by an elderly woman. How sweet.
Evan caught Dalton’s eye. “Go ahead and take him home,” he said to the woman. “Just keep those bags away from him.”
“Sure thing, Doctor.” She gave him a scandalous smile before spinning around and walking down the hallway to the waiting area.
“I see you’re a hit with the ladies.” Dalton stepped back to allow Evan into the room.
“How are you feeling?” Evan grabbed a backpack from the corner. Dalton hadn’t even noticed it there. “Ben went to your house and gathered some clothing for you.”
“Thanks.” Dalton pulled his clothes from the bag and dressed, thankful Ben had thought of doing this. Shifters weren’t ashamed of their nudity, but more than a few brows would have risen if he’d walked out nude. Plus it was cold as shit outside, and Dalton hadn’t wanted to drive home naked. “So what’s the verdict?”
“Silver poisoning.”
Dalton cursed. Leave it to Raphael to be that fucking dirty. “But how?” He explained how he had ripped a vampire’s heart out, and that was how he was poisoned.
“That couldn’t be the reason,” Evan said. “The vampire would’ve died with silver in his blood. He has to be lying to you. You had to be poisoned a different way.”
“I’d eaten a bowl of chili about twenty minutes before the vampires invaded my home.” Dalton had made the steaks for dinner, but he’d enjoyed a bowl of chili while he’d waited for his mate.
They had crept up on him. They had to have come in through the kitchen since they hadn’t walked in through the front door. One of them could have put the silver flakes in Dalton’s food.
If that were true, then they had invaded his house hours before, had put the poison in Dalton’s chili, and had left, giving time for the poison to work.
He told Evan as much.
“That makes more sense. If I were you, I would toss out anything in your refrigerator. Something else could be contaminated.”
Dalton planned on doing that as soon as he got home. “And my arm?” He lifted it and showed the doctor how he couldn’t close his fist.
“Time might finish mending you.” Evan waved for Dalton to take a seat by the counter and then took his vitals. “Your heart sounds strong. You could do some hand exercises with a stress ball to help strengthen it, but I must warn you, this could permanent. To be honest, you’re damn lucky to be alive.”
The doctor didn’t have to remind him. Dalton knew it was a miracle that he wasn’t dead. But he couldn’t regret what he’d done. If he hadn’t gone after Sherman, his mate would have died by Raphael’s hands.
“Someone is awake,” Evan said under his breath. “I’ll be back in a minute so you two can talk.”
“Yes, we do need to talk,” Sherman said as Dalton closed the door to the kennel.
When Dalton turned, Sherman was not only up but standing right behind him. Furious eyes glared at him, and Sherman’s hands were on his hips. Dalton had a feeling he was in deep trouble.
“Do you have any idea how terrified I was?” Sherman bit off. “What right did you have to put your life at risk? You knew you were poisoned, and you walked out of here. You could have died!”
“So could have you,” Dalton countered with much less fury than Sherman’s voice. “I left because you weren’t answering my calls and I had to find you. If I hadn’t, Raphael would have killed you.”