Page 26
On a whim, he made a pit stop at the pharmacy and bought stomach medicine for omegas. Dr. Abbott seemed like a man of action; Royce could respect that and use it to prove he was the best damn fit for his mate. Actions that considered Doc’s health and comfort were what he needed, what he deserved; Royce would give him that every damned day.
The trip to the bakery was less successful. Hershal said they had nothing without eggs and dairy, but if Dr. Abbott was going to become a regular customer, he’d add some items to the rotation.
Determined not to let this dampen his spirits, Royce raced home and thanked the fates he had the foresight to buy dark chocolate tins. And he smiled the whole way there because he was going home to his mate. And they were going to cook together, talk, and start building a relationship, a life, together.
Pulling onto his road, his heart dropped. Slamming the brakes, he parked the car in the street. Buford stood on the front steps, his thick brows creased and his medic bag slung over his shoulder. The green front door of Royce’s place hung open.
“What happened?” Royce sprinted from the car, taking the front steps three at a time. He froze next to Buford, his heart hammered.
Blood.
Blood everywhere.
Soaked into the ugly beige carpet, smeared across the wall, a trail of it leading out the front door.
He screamed unintelligibly, his nostrils flared, searching for a scent of whoever it was, whatever had harmed his mate. But he found nothing. The only scent other than his mate’s blood was that of the bear shifter alpha next to him.
With a snarl, Royce turned to Buford. Seizing his shoulders, he shoved him into the wall.
“Where is he?!” he demanded. He knew what Buford was seeing. Royce’s eyes would be flashing gold, his teeth elongating in a snarl as his wolf poked through the man.
“I don’t know,” Buford said.
“What did you do to my mate?”
“Okay, listen, Royce, I smelled the blood. I saw the door was open. I came to investigate—to offer help. I didn’t know the omega you had over was your mate, but still, I should have called you immediately. I’m sorry.” Buford placated, probably in hopes Royce wouldn’t tear out his jugular in a blind wrath. “I don’t know where he is, but I can help. Okay? Just let me go, and we can find your mate. Remember, I’m a nurse. I can help him if he’s hurt.”
Strangling a snarl, Royce released Buford and took a step back. He pulled at his hair in a sorry attempt to ground himself. He needed to be thinking clearly if he was going to find Doc and save him.
While Royce wrestled with himself, Buford stepped further inside, careful to go around the blood smears and stains. He crouched and leaned over the largest pile.
“Royce, good news,” Buford said. “He wasn’t attacked.”
“What?”
“See here, this bubbling and foaming, that’s not from an external wound. This is mucus and blood; vomit most likely from an internal bleed.”
“How is that good news?” Royce hollered.
“It means no one took him by force. It means he most likely left on his own two feet and wasn’t able to get very far. He should be easy to find, especially for his mate. You’re attuned to his scent.”
“He takes suppressors … I can’t scent him properly.”
“That explains why the omega scent is so faint … Okay. Okay, new plan. We’ll track him as if he were a beta. Maybe he left a physical trail or … do you know where he might have gone?”
“The clinic. He’d go to the clinic.”
“Okay, we can work with that. Do you need me to drive?”
“No,” Royce snarled, fighting his wolf back. He had to remind the furry bastard you needed apposable thumbs to drive as they rushed to the car.
They were at the clinic in less than seven minutes. The second he exited the car, he was assaulted by the stench of blood, putrid and metallic. Parking the car, he didn’t bother to turn it off or shut the door behind him before he bolted to the cabin. Royce was vaguely aware of Buford behind him turning off the engine.
Blood covered the front stoop. He jumped over it and crashed into the door. It slammed into the wall, his heart hammered in his ears, his vision sharp yet blurred as he searched.
A heap of cloth and crimson lay at the base of one of the shelves.
“Doc!” Royce fell to the ground. Gripping the omega’s shoulders, he rolled him. He let out a pitiful groan, blood plastered to the corners of his mouth, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
