Page 19 of Accidentally on Purr-pose

The elderly councilor was already moving past them, his weathered hands surprisingly steady as he disappeared into the cottage's small bathroom. Izei could hear drawers slamming and bottles clinking together as Aldric gathered whatever supplies his months of careful preparation had provided.

Freesia and Izei lowered Reth carefully onto the narrow bed in the back bedroom, Reth's body settling into the mattress with a pained groan that made Izei's chest tighten. His Beta's eyes were glassy and unfocused, but still conscious enough to track movement.

"Stay with me," Izei commanded, pressing both palms firmly against the worst of the claw marks.

Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and slick, and he could feel the edges of torn muscle beneath his hands. The wounds were deeper than he'd initially assessed—deep enough to be life-threatening if they couldn't stop the bleeding soon. His panther paced restlessly, fury and worry warring for dominance.

"Move," Freesia commanded.

She appeared beside the bed with an armload of towels, her naked form moving with the fluid efficiency of someone who'd clearly handled medical emergencies before. There was no hesitation in her movements and no squeamishness at the sight of blood. Izei moved aside, allowing her to take over compression duties. She pressed clean towels against Reth's wounds with practiced pressure, her sapphire eyes focused entirely on her patient.

"Aldric, I need antiseptic, needle, thread, and something to sterilize with," she called over her shoulder, her tone carrying the crisp authority of a battlefield commander. "He's going to need stitches once this bleeding stops."

"You've clearly done this before," Izei said, watching her hands move with confident precision.

"Field medicine was part of royal combat training." Her voice was steady, but he could sense the underlying tension through their mate bond. "Though never under quite these circumstances."

Aldric returned with supplies clutched in his arms—bottles of antiseptic, medical thread and needles, matches, and clean bandages. He set everything within Freesia's reach before stepping back to give her room to work.

Minutes stretched like hours as she maintained pressure on the wounds. Izei found himself studying her face, memorizing the determined set of her jaw and the way she bit her lower lip in concentration. Even naked and blood-stained, she commanded the room with natural authority.

She could lead beside me, the thought struck him with startling clarity. She could be my equal in everything—combat, leadership, protecting our people.

The bleeding finally began to slow, the towels no longer becoming saturated within seconds. Freesia carefully lifted the blood-soaked fabric to examine her work.

"Good. It's clotting." She reached for the antiseptic bottle, her movements economical and sure. "This is going to hurt."

The moment the antiseptic hit Reth's wounds, his body convulsed despite his weakened state. A strangled cry escaped his lips before his eyes rolled back and consciousness fled entirely.

"Reth." Izei's voice cracked slightly as he watched his closest friend go completely limp.

In thirteen years of partnership, he'd never seen his Beta this vulnerable. The man who'd stood beside him through every impossible mission, who'd helped him build their security empire from nothing, now lay unconscious and bleeding on a stranger's bed.

This is my fault. I should have anticipated the attack.

"He's going to pull through," Freesia said quietly, as if sensing his internal turmoil through their bond. "But I need you to hold him steady while I stitch these wounds. Even unconscious, his body will try to jerk away from the pain."

Izei positioned himself carefully on the bed, bracing Reth's torso between his arms while Freesia sterilized a needle with a match flame. The acrid smell of burning metal filled the small room.

"Ready?" she asked, threading the needle with steady hands.

He nodded, tightening his grip on his Beta's shoulders. "Ready."

The first stitch made Reth's body spasm despite his unconscious state, but Izei held him firm. Then he watched Freesia work with growing admiration—each stitch was precise, evenly spaced, designed to minimize scarring while ensuring the wounds would heal properly.

She's magnificent, his panther rumbled with deep satisfaction. Strong enough to fight beside us and skilled enough to save lives. My true mate.

"How did we fight so well together out there?" The question escaped. "It felt like we'd been partners for years."

Freesia glanced up from her stitching, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "The mate bond." She returned her attention to the wound. "Though I have to admit, your combat skills are impressive even without supernatural assistance."

"Yours aren't exactly lacking." He watched her tie off another stitch with professional competence. "I've never seen any tigress move like that."

"Royal combat training." There was pride in her voice, but also grief. "My father made sure I could protect myself and others. He said a ruler who couldn't fight for their people had no business leading them."

She suddenly became quiet after the mention of her father, the cottage falling silent except for the soft sounds of her medical work. Izei found himself imagining what it would be like to have her permanently by his side—not just as a mate, but as a true partner. Her scattered pride could merge with his. They could rebuild something stronger together than either could manage alone.

If she'd stay, he reminded himself. If she'd give us a real chance.