“What?” Although Pete and others had whined that she wasn’t a healer, only a banfasa, they’d never complained about her skill.
Anger roused like a wakening bear, and her words came out clipped. “I worked with my Grandmama from the time I could walk—and in those years, I met a lot of banfasas who visited her. Not to sound conceited, but I am a good banfasa. A very good one. The years picking up human techniques only made me better.”
“I’d agree, just from the little I’ve seen.” He leaned back.
“So why would they come here and lie about me?” The ugliness that was Rainier Territory swept over her like dirty floodwaters. “Why?”
“I’m guessing it was to prevent your finding work elsewhere. To force you to return to Ailill Ridge.”
By the Gods’ forests and hills.
Unable to sit with the rage inside her, she rose and paced up and down the porch, stomping hard enough the wood reverberated like a drum under her feet.
“Wait…” Stopping, she pointed at the healer. “That’s why you were rude to me. Why you told Calum you didn’t need help.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression rueful. “I was wrong to believe what they said without checking for myself. I’m sorry, lass.”
The sincerity in his tone dispelled much of her anger. Although she’d like to slap the shifters—no, Pete—because he would have been the one to come up with the idea.
She stood still, letting her fury recede.
Watching her quietly, Donal patted the chair beside him.
With a sigh, she resumed her seat. “I guess there’s nothing I can do. Protesting isn’t highly effective against something like slander.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to deal with this myself.” His eyes, more gray than silver, held the cold wrath of an approaching blizzard. “Since I was the one lied to and heard exactly what they said.”
“That doesn’t seem fair to—”
“I’m a werecat.” The curve of his lips was almost cruel. “And I do so enjoy playing with my prey.”
“Ah, uh-huh. Sure.” Lesson one in survival: annoying this healer would be bad for a person’s health. “Um, thank you?”
“That’s the right answer,” he almost purred.
Okay, okay, she would simply try to put that stuff out of her mind. She’d moved on. Donal had learned the truth about her and wanted to work with her. No need to wallow in the past. “So, what’s next?”
“Advice.” He smiled. “Earlier, I saw how you reacted to Lottie’s rudeness.”
If she hadn’t been pinned down by the cub, she’d have retreated to her own house. She sighed…and waited.
This was a male who didn’t need any encouragement to tell her what he thought.
“Having seen you work, I know you’re very skilled. Unfortunately, you’ve had years of being undermined, first as a captive and later by Pete. It makes you insecure, even when you know you’re skilled.”
She nodded at the truth.
“Lass, don’t let your patients or their families be rude to you. Either they treat you with respect or you walk away.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t do that.”
“No, not if the lack of care would truly hurt someone. But, for example, last month, I told an overly aggressive cat not to come to me unless he’s dying. For one year, he’ll have to get broken bones and gashes treated by human medicine—or his friends if he has any.”
She’d seen the healer kick a shifter out of his clinic and thought he was awfully harsh. But maybe he was right. Grandmama had been much like him. Actually, she’d have walked out of Rainier Territory the first week.
Don’t I deserve to be treated with equal respect?
She did.
Donal waited quietly, his expression caring. Once he’d changed his mind about her, his true personality came forward. And he was…kind.
Shay had assigned Tynan to be her pack mentor, but it appeared Donal had appointed himself to be her medical mentor.
“Okay. Now that you’ve pointed out this vulnerability, I’ll patch it up.” She had a feeling her smile was a bit crooked. “Thank you.”
“Exactly what I hoped you’d say.” He rubbed his hands together as if starting a new task. “So, banfasa, we have older shifters in the area who need better monitoring. In addition, I can’t keep up with visiting everyone after healing broken bones or extensive healing, and some need extra care. Let’s talk about therapy and how we can work together to handle…”
His words disappeared under a sparkling wave of happiness.
This was what she’d hoped for all her life.
Chapter Twelve
Cold Creek. North Cascades Territory - one day before full moon
The night before the monthly Gathering, only the barest sliver was missing from the golden ball in the sky. The air held a hint of cold, and moonglow lit the paths on the mountain.
Tynan had never seen such a beautiful night for a pack run.
He could taste the hint of rain though. Tonight, the wolves would run the moonlit trails. Tomorrow, during the storm, the Daonain would gather in the Wild Hunt Tavern to mate all night.
Perfectly timed. All too often, contrary weather left the pack running and singing in the rain. Although his fur’s outer layer shed water, a prolonged rain would eventually penetrate even his thick undercoat.
There was nothing more disgusting than a cold, heavy coat of fur and mud-caked paws.
As the trail opened into a high mountain meadow, Tynan’s pace quickened. He loped over the soft spring grass and through the clear water in the glacier-fed stream. He heard a rustle, pounced, and snapped his jaws closed on a field mouse.
After a quick look, he tossed the treat to an aged female who could obviously use some extra nutrition.
Ears forward, she investigated the fresh meat in the grass, then gave him a tail wag of thanks as she devoured it in a bite.
Hmm. Tomorrow, he’d ask Shay and Bree who she was and where she lived. During patrol, he’d stop by to ensure she was doing all right and getting enough to eat.
Now, if he hadn’t seen the elderly female, he’d have offered the mouse to Meggie…although that was courting behavior when not at a Gathering.
Fine with him.
It’d been four days since the feral’s attack in the park, and he’d managed to spend time with Margery each day, although his thrice-cursed littermate had optioned much of her time, sending her off to the clan’s ill and elderly. Tynan couldn’t begrudge her time, not when she was this happy. She loved being a banfasa.
Her life before Cold Creek had been a rough one, so perhaps it was good their relationship was moving at a snail’s pace.
Although it was difficult to pull in his instincts. She was soft and curvy and her laugh so infectious he ended up laughing, too. Then she’d turn around and do something so caring that his chest ached. And he’d kiss her and end up with aching balls the remainder of the night because she made him so hard that even a cat’s claws wouldn’t scratch his dick.
He watched her crossing the meadow, her fur almost golden in the moonlight. Her ankle slowed her pace, so she’d run with Angie among the less competitive mid-aged wolves.