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The little omega scurried to Theodore’s side where he made her look through the microscope. Royce was amused watching the three different clinic members drag Courtney back and forth to show her various things. They were almost more enthusiastic about her shadowing than she was.

“You see that to the left? It’s yeast.”

“I’m guessing that shouldn’t be there,” Courtney said.

“Correct. Ear infections aren’t common in cats, but this particular patient has FIV, making her more susceptible to yeast or bacteria. Prescription ear drops and cleaner are going to be needed instead of an antibiotic or a simple saline flush to remove debris.”

“When would a saline flush be preferred?”

Theodore continued with his lesson before writing a prescription and moving to the last appointment of the morning. Royce was content sitting in the back kennel while he worked. Now that he was a regular at the clinic, Mutt insisted Royce sit next to her on the floor while she lay her head in his lap. Mutt’s cat friend liked to walk up and randomly smash his head into Royce’s arm. After the fourth time, he realized this meant the cat wanted pats.

Today Mutt was fast asleep in his lap, Big Poppa curled up by Mutt’s stomach while Royce rested his head against the wall. He was surprised how calm he felt being in the back room while Theo worked. Everything he’d heard of the alpha ‘mating frenzy’ had him prepared—and worried—to become a raging, horny, alpha-asshole, unable and unwilling to have Theo out of his sight for five seconds.

Yes, Royce was exceptionally protective of his omega. Yes, he was uneasy at the lack of their mate marks. But he was in control. He was satisfied knowing Theo was happily doing his job in the next room. If Royce had been forced to go days on end without seeing Theo’s beautiful face, then he would get agitated, but it was nothing near the levels he’d heard rumor of.

Royce was starting to think the ‘mating frenzy’ was a nonsense term alphas used when they refused to take accountability and control their damn selves.

Even when Theo was unconscious and Royce was sleeping on the floor by his sickbed, while he was undeniably distraught and suffering insomnia and anxiety, Royce was in control of himself. If anything, the worry that he wouldn’t be had been one of the worst parts.

Now that he really sat and thought about it, that must be how Theo felt when his heats came on. No control over your own actions, terrified of what that might make you do or the situations that might put you in. Royce had only one clear instance of that in his life, the rut. From the slew of other symptoms he’d witnessed Theo enduring, the rut had been nothing in comparison.

“Okay, that wasn’t that bad.” Theodore came into the kennel. “The way they described it over the phone, I thought that poor guinea pig was on death’s door.”

He stretched his arms over his head before removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Dark circles had settled into his skin during his heat. His movements were slow and sluggish. When he bent any of his joints, it was accompanied by a grimace. Thankfully Theo’s heat was almost over, then he would be able to rest properly.

“Hey, Mutt, you sleepy girl.” Theodore knelt on the floor in front of Royce and his snuggle buddies. “You ready for your stretches? Maybe we can try walking a little further today?”

Theodore threaded his fingers through Mutt’s curly fur. She had a semi-curly coat, soft to the touch and low maintenance, which was good given her current predicament. She had floppy black ears while her body was a mix of gray, black, and white.

Her droopy eyes opened and her tail raised in a limp wag when she woke up to Theodore’s pets. With her cast still in place, Mutt had a hard time getting from laying to standing, her cast slipping on the blankets and tile floor. Royce steadied her until she was upright.

While Mutt and Theodore worked, Big Poppa sat up, his squinting eyes tracking their every movement. Out of nowhere, the cat turned its gaze to Royce, then slammed his head into his forearm.

“Jeesh, what’s your problem?” Royce scratched the cat’s head between the ears. Big Poppa started to purr, rolling his head into Royce’s hand, and making biscuits.

He caught Theodore watching him and the cat, smirking.

“Why are you a vet?” Royce asked, to keep the topic from the cat now laying on his legs demanding his full attention.

“I like animals,” Theodore answered without skipping a beat. “Sometimes I think I like them better than people. Don’t tell their owners that.”

“I already pegged you as anti-social and mean.” Royce snorted. “But now, with your situation. Why did you keep working as a vet? I’m sure there were other gigs you could do that would require less illegal paperwork.”

Theodore pursed his lips.

“What? Did you just not know what else to do?” Royce asked.

“No,” Theodore huffed. “I figured if I was going to be fighting to live, I might as well live for something. What’s the point in me keeping myself alive if I can’t keep healing?”

That brought a warm smile to Royce’s face, yet it was chased by a deep melancholy. He was beyond proud of Theodore for finding a purpose in his life and fiercely sticking to it. On the other, he loathed that he’d been in a situation to consider his untimely demise.

His wolf growled.

“Removing Gage’s head with rusty head clippers is not good enough. We shall put him on a post and let the birds eat his innards. It shall be a slow death befitting his evil deeds.”

Royce wanted to disagree with his wolf, but in a perverse way he liked the idea of inflicting as much pain onto Prescot as possible. It wasn’t just Theo he’d hurt, there were countless other omegas who hadn’t had the chance to realize their dreams and callings because of that monster.

“Theo,” Royce said. “I don’t want you to—”