Chapter Two Finn
Finn
Almost seven hours into his twelve-hour shift, Dr. Finn Merritt decides he has never been hungrier. Supernatural health care didn’t revolve around emergency care as much as it did for their human counterparts, but today has been next-level chaotic.
By nature, Weres have enhanced healing and longevity going for them that humans do not. That means as a physician, his rotation in the ER could be boring. He’d no doubt jinxed himself just this morning when he’d complained to Leo that yesterday’s main excitement had been a Were toddler with a piece of Lego, a half-inch of cyan blue crayon, and a Hot Cheeto up his tiny little nose.
He couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to get up for his noon start when he’d had to disentangle himself from a very warm, naked, and satisfied-smelling Luca. Shortly after arriving, he’d been rushed nearly off his feet when a bus carrying a football team from the local Were secondary school had blown out a tire, and several injuries required all hands on deck. Any serious injuries have been moved to other units in the small hospital, and thankfully, there were no fatalities. Most of the kids would be back on the field in a few days. But that means he’d forgone his breaks and his dinner, meals he looks forward to every single day.
Pulling the bento box out of the communal staff room fridge, he smiles in anticipation for several reasons. One of his mates, Gideon, is the head chef at Quest , a Michelin-starred restaurant in the heart of The Gulch. He always makes time to cook for his mates whenever he can. He insists on it. Seeing what Gideon has prepared and eating it are the highlights of his workdays and often make his twelve-hour shifts in the quiet ER bearable.
The bento has three levels, and upon opening the top one, Finn inhales deeply. Fresh sashimi lies in perfect rolls. The rice accompaniment has been shaped into the shape of a dog with a cute seaweed nose with its tiny tongue sticking out. Despite Gideon’s tough guy exterior, he could be considered the most romantic in their daily life next to Leo. Knowing Gideon puts such thought into Finn’s food every day makes him warm all over.
Taped with a heart-patterned Washi tape to the outside of the lid is the other small thing Finn looks forward to every day. The blue sticky note has a series of vertical lines drawn painstakingly on it. The spacing and length are no coincidence. Pulling out his phone, he swipes into the camera app and snaps a photo of the lines. When Spotify pops open, it is to a song Gideon has chosen for him. It’s a romantic song about falling. Smiling, Finn cracks open his chopsticks, mouth already watering for Gideon’s meal.
Then he hears it. The previously hectic ER had emptied about thirty minutes ago, leaving him and the nurse receptionist, Dennie, at his waiting room station through the large sliding doors. He hears his co-worker’s brisk walk headed his way and clicks the pause button, effectively silencing the song for the time being. Finn is already looking at the door when Dennie rounds the corner, looking uncharacteristically harried. Finn is sure if scent blockers weren’t mandatory for staff, his scent would have preceded him.
“Dr. Merritt, there’s a man in the lobby with several injuries! A man .” Dennie twists his hands, and Finn is reminded of a distraught Victorian maiden. It is amusing, given the stoic, take-no-shit demeanor the nurse wears day-to-day. Dennie is one of Finn’s favorite co-workers because of it.
Resigned to miss out on his dinner again with a sad little sigh, he closes it up; with a little pat on the lid, before he puts it back into the fridge.
“Which bay is he in? Triaged?” Dropping his phone in his pocket and checking that his scent blocker patch is in place on his neck. Four hours and thirty-eight minutes to go and he could head home, maybe see if Jay wanted to re-enact how he got his alpha’s bite on his hip.
“Finn, you don’t understand. It’s a man— a human male?” Dennie points back the way he came. Finn can see a shaggy blond-haired male seated in the triage chair, eyes on them. Well, that explains Dennie’s hand-wringing, for sure. This hospital did not see humans through its doors on purpose. There was a magic spell preventing them from even noticing the large brick structure. So, to say the least, having one in its empty waiting room is unprecedented. Regular humans did not know about the Were community, and penalties of varying degrees existed to protect both species. Finn was not going to do anything to jeopardize any of them heading home to their families tonight.
“Alright, Dennie. Let’s move him to med-bay one and put security on alert as well. Nothing to do but see this through. Hopefully, it will be a quick in-and-out. Did you triage?” He asks again, and Dennie rolls his eyes. Finn is so glad to see his equilibrium restored.
“I haven’t yet, but I have his TennCare card here, and I’ll get him into the system after I put him in med-bay one. Here.” Handing Finn the card, he scurries away just as quickly as he’d come. No one wanted anything bad to happen to the human— Austin Rena—on their watch. Finn heads into the wash station to wash his hands and grab his equipment. Stethoscope around his neck and glasses firmly in place, he can hear Dennie asking a few basic questions and the surprisingly deep voice responding with respect by the time he reaches the curtained-off area.
“Dr. Merritt will be right with you, Mr. Rena. Please have a seat on the bed.” Dennie closes the curtain after himself and approaches Finn. “He’s complaining of a dislocated shoulder, and I can smell fresh blood, although he’s not mentioned it.” The nurse is genuinely concerned. Human anatomy is not so different, ?but Finn knew he’d have to watch his strength when setting the shoulder back to rights. But that’s not what’s got a concerned look on the nurse’s face.
“What aren’t you saying?” Finn learned early in his training that the circle of care meant listening to the instincts of his team and Dennie had some of the best.
“He’s sweet, but something’s not right. He’s trying so hard to be funny and confident, but he smells terrified. I can smell Were on him, but he’s human. He asked questions about the empty waiting room and told me he’d been to Lupine Park, but never seen the hospital. Asked three times how long it might take. And I can hear his stomach growling. I’m going to get that boy a sandwich if you deem it appropriate after consulting, okay?” He snatches the TennCare card from Finn. “I’m also going to pull his records from the system. You do your thing.”
“Yes, boss!” Finn chuckles at the middle finger Dennie throws back over his shoulder, pink Crocs squeaking away.
Finn could hear the occasional faint groan from the other side of the curtain. It’s unlikely Austin would have heard Dennie speaking, as they were far enough away, and the ambient noise in the bays was high enough to avoid eavesdropping. It is a privacy feature heavily used in medical facilities that cater to Weres and their exceptional hearing.
Straightening his white coat and affixing his most professional smile to his face, Finn pulls the curtain back and comes to a full stop. The scent in the room is not the human’s natural one. It reeks of rotten pears. A Were has been obscenely scenting this human; it oozes from every pore, and it appears it is without awareness or consent.
But it’s not his scent that is most arresting about Finn’s patient. Austin Rena’s otherworldly beauty might have him confused for a mythical fae, and Finn flicks his eyes to check the human’s tiny, perfect ears. Not that fairies were a thing.
He glows, but it comes from inside the human’s soul. Even as a dark bruise mars his left cheekbone, Austin is stunning. With his shining silvery-gray eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips…and are those…freckles? Fuck. So many caramel-colored freckles.
His mate, Rowan, has so many, and his mates tease him that they are kisses from the Moon Goddess (often while kissing them themselves). But beautiful as Rowan’s are, they are nothing like the constellation of spots covering the tops of Austin’s cheeks and nose. He thinks that perhaps this is the most beautiful person he has ever seen, and that’s saying something, given he is bonded to the ever-ethereal, model-worthy Grayson Pearce.
When Austin catches sight of him and smiles, Finn is glad the loud ventilation system drowns out his whimper. Yes, a whimper! He is an adult alpha male and a Professional for fuck’s sake (yes, a Capital-P Professional!), and he does not go around whimpering over patients. Were doctors are put through rigorous testing, trained, and tested again and again to avoid just these reactions.
As a species, Weres are instinctual and sense-oriented. It takes a great deal of personal fortitude and training to overcome it when faced with extreme circumstances. Finn passed at the top of his class. He will not kiss that perfect record goodbye now. Realizing he is standing with his mouth hanging open like a newly-presented adolescent, he clears his throat and meets Austin’s eyes.
“I’m Finn Merritt, uh, Dr. Merritt…and you are Austin Rena?” Austin smiles again, pure sunshine personified, and Finn can feel his cheeks go pink. He hasn’t felt this way since they met and courted Gideon two years ago.
Well, fuck.
That is a surprise. Is this human their mate? The heat in his face, the turmoil in his belly, and all his instincts screaming for him to grab Austin and scent him all over?
Check, Check, Check.
It wasn’t unheard of for Weres to find a mate in humans; people were people, after all. But it was still surprising that Austin would find his way into Finn’s hospital. An entirely human-free area 100% of the time. Finn had had similar reactions when meeting all of his mates: a blast of instant connection and attraction that was preordained. It made them powerfully connected.
After his first meeting with Rowan and Grayson at an art show, he’d eventually come to learn that the Goddess had originally intended for them to be eight. Jay often told stories about the one who had died when he was still a teen. Finn didn’t know how Jay managed the loss most days, and he still experiences days where the nine-year grief is just as fresh.
So, who is this gorgeous human?
Austin’s cheeks are the sweetest shade of pink, making his freckles even more prevalent. “Yes, thank you for seeing me, Finn…I mean Dr. Merritt. I’m sorry, that was too familiar. I don’t know what made me say that!” Austin shakes his head in embarrassment, but the movement causes him to cry out and clutch his left arm, his forehead beaded with sweat.
“How did you say you injured your arm?” Finn carefully approaches the bed. “May I touch you?” He asks quietly, forcing down his instincts to grab him and hide him away. “And how did you hurt your knees?” The material over his knees is wet with blood, and Finn can smell it still seeping into the saturated material.
There’s a pervasive scent of rotten pear that is almost overwhelming up close, and he wants to put Austin into a hot shower and scrub until all he can smell is his mate’s scent, then replace it with his black currant one.
Professionalism, Finn.
“I uh…fell at the apartment. Dropped dinner and slipped in it, banged my head, hurt my arm, and landed in the glass on my knees. I’m really accident-prone.” He grins sheepishly at Finn.
His guileless gray eyes and sweet smile are intended to be distracting, and while Finn is distracted for sure, he also knows it is a lie. A torn rotator cuff and what looks like embedded glass in his knees are no small thing, but Finn is a scientist and he’s not done gathering his evidence. His face must have reflected his doubt because Austin tenses.
“That must explain why I can hear your tummy rumble from here.” Finn makes light of the situation to ease Austin’s obvious discomfort.
Austin’s smile falls from his face. “Yeah. Really disappointed I didn’t get to eat that.” He presses his good hand to his belly as if it can quiet the sound.
“We’ll fix you up and get you something to eat. How about that?” Austin is exactly his age, but his sweet face and gentle demeanor make Finn feel years older. Make him want to put his new mate on his lap after that hot shower and share his sashimi. Maybe that way, he could try to find out more about him with his nose (teeth?) in his soft neck. Take his mate home with him and cuddle him into their nest. Get rid of the last of that rotten pear smell.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Whoa. Finn has his hands on a patient who is also his mate. While at work. A potential fated mate who is a human . This is a small (but significant) violation of the Were Medical Code of Conduct and his personal one, too. Finn is surprised the hospital’s Physician’s Oath Spell (not one person called it POS in front of the hospital’s President) hasn’t sent security thundering down on his head.
He has to get another doctor in here before he is out of a job. He doesn’t want to leave Austin alone, but if he can get another doctor in here, he can satisfy both his professional obligations and his personal need to protect. “Uh…one moment? Let me get some things to fix up your arm and knees, and…uh…I’ll be right back.”
Austin’s apparent surprise at his abrupt departure mid-conversation is not lost on him. Heart pounding, Finn stops on the other side of the curtain. He bends at the waist, hands on his knees to get his bearings.
His mate’s deep voice timidly asks, “Hey. Dr. Merritt? Are you all right? I can see your feet underneath the bottom of the curtain. Did I do something wrong?” His question reeks of uncertainty and fear. Finn’s wolf growls and reminds him he has a job to do and to get his act together; their mate is distressed.
Yes, his mate. Okay, he has this.
“Sorry, Austin. It’s not you. It’s me. I’ll be right back.” He walks toward the sliding glass doors where Dennie is poring over his screen with an intensity that usually means a juicy novel or a thirsty social media edit. Finn isn’t the only one who gets bored on slow days.
“Dennie? Could you get Dr. Kennedy, please? I need a consult.” Finn trusts his mentor and it will ease his worry over his injured mate.
“I will tell him, Finn, but he’s in surgery for the patient from the accident earlier. They’re doing that reconstruction. All surgical teams are busy. There are also four babies being born, and everyone else is gone already. Do you want me to get the on-call in? Although, I think Dr. Hildebrand’s specialty is Geriatrics…” Small Were hospitals are both a curse and a blessing, though the curse was currently tipping the scale.
Dennie wouldn’t have said there was no one if there had been any other choice. “I was just going to try to get your attention.” The beta hesitates, and that twinge in his instincts Finn had felt since Austin had lied burst into flames. He nods for his colleague to continue, hoping against hope that what comes next isn’t going to break his heart or send him on a rampage.
“He’s been to every ER in Nashville. Sixteen broken bones in the past five years, several concussions, burns of all degrees, and various soft tissue traumas. He’s either the most accident-prone human alive or…” Dennie looks away, and Finn’s heart breaks. “There are notations on the file that there is suspected domestic violence. The last notation from a month ago states that they attempted to assist, but he protested. His partner was present.”
Rage bursts behind Finn’s eyes. Dennie’s eyes widen as he rolls his chair back slightly against the L-shape of his desk, covering his nose with his hand.
Domestic. Violence.
Finn’s sudden rage and anguish at someone treating his mate so viciously and for so long makes him see red and turns his black currant scent acidic, overpowering his scent blocker patch. Breathing in and out through his mouth, Finn struggles to get a grip on his anguish. Normally, Finn is even-tempered in the face of any adversity. Jay says they rely on him to always have his head in the game—but right now? He has only white-hot fury.
And that growl is not helping at all. Is it coming from him?
Turning abruptly, he slams his fist into the metal filing cabinet behind him. The top two drawers cave in, but the sight of the crumpled metal and the residual pain in his hand help him get his temper in check. If only slightly.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Den,” he says, reverting to his co-worker’s nickname, which he usually only did during after-work drinks at the local karaoke bar. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Dennie rolls bravely back toward his desk, hand still over his nose, opens the drawer, and wordlessly offers a scent blocker spray and a small smile. “Understandable. He’s too sweet to be stuck in a relationship like that. So go help that boy, and I will bring him a sandwich in thirty minutes. See if you can get him to let us help. Use your puppy dog eyes for something other than trying to convince me to get you a nine pm white chocolate latte.”
The scent blocker spray is cold and antiseptic-smelling when he applies it, but at least he isn’t sending run-for-your-life pheromones throughout the ER, and it might get him and, hopefully, Austin inside the door at home later without sending his pack into a frenzy.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in thirty.”
As he makes his way back toward his new mate, he can hear Dennie grumble, “How the hell am I going to get my bag out of this cabinet now? Finn, wait! Get back here.”
Grabbing the items he needs to treat Austin, Finn tries to formulate a plan to persuade him to let them help. Domestic violence is uncommon in the Were community, given the nature of the bond, so his training is light in this area. If he’d been able to get a consultation from a coworker, he could have taken the role of potential mate instead.
It’s a fucked up situation. He suddenly wants his mates here: take-charge Jay, strong-but-silent Leo, or even I-own-knives-and-I-know-how-to-use-them Gideon. But it was just him, his Physician’s Oath, and hopefully, a bit of luck.
It felt like hours since he’d left Austin behind the curtain, and when he pulls it back, the human asks, “Is everything okay? I heard a crash…” He looks exhausted now. The pain—and maybe something deeper—wearing his shiny, happy facade thin around the edges.
Rolling the tray over, he meets the human’s eyes and gets a better look at a darkening bruise on his human’s face. “Everything is okay. Just a cabinet falling over. What happened here?” Finn smooths a single, light-as-a-feather finger over Austin’s cheek. His mate shivers and licks his lips.
Austin’s eyes are unfocused, and he breathes out, “I got hit in the face with an apple yesterday. It had a bruise. Now, I have a bruise, too.” Hearing what he’s said, his eyes widen so much that the whites show around his irises. “What?! No, I’m joking. Ha.” Hearing the truth, it seems, is a surprise to them both.
“Austin. Are you saying someone has hit you in the face with an apple?” This can’t be true. It couldn’t. That is downright cruel and so much worse than he thought.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t. C-Could you please fix my arm now? It really hurts.” If Austin had been pale before, he now looks like he’s seen a ghost.
The rage simmers below the surface, and human senses or not, he can tell it’s triggering Austin’s fear. The last thing he wants is for his mate to be frightened, so he forces it down to deal with later. Firmly grasping Austin’s frail shoulder in one hand and his arm in the other, he explains, “You’ve dislocated the arm and possibly torn the rotator cuff. I’ll set it, and then we can get you further imaging to see if it might need surgery. It’s going to hurt a lot.” He’s nauseous at the thought of hurting his new mate. This is the exact reason that the Oath prohibits them from treating their mates. He still never expected it to feel like this.
Austin braces himself and breaks Finn’s heart for what feels like the fiftieth time since he’d met him. “That’s okay, Doc. It’s not the first time. I can take it. Just do it.” His small smile is not the encouragement he intends it to be. Not at all.
So, without preamble, Finn sets the joint to rights, and his human eyes clench tightly with the pain, but he doesn’t make a sound. He hands Austin an ice pack and gets a look at the two obviously broken fingers on his other hand. Maybe he would call Gideon, after all.
“That’s better already Doc, thank you,” Austin says softly, still breathing heavily, even if he tries to hide it. Noticing Finn’s attention, he quickly covers the digits with his other hand and tries to push off the bed as if wanting to leave.
“Austin, you can’t go yet. You have glass in your knees, and they will get infected. If they do, you’ll have to come back.” That seems to convince his mate to stay seated. Finn will have to work fast and be convincing to get Austin to come home with him, or at the very least help him find sanctuary, but first things first. “Let’s get your pants off.”
Gray eyes once again go shiny with mirth. That he can hurt and still find light in an untenable situation makes Finn’s heart sing.
Austin smirks. “Hot doctor says what now?” He giggles. “You should at least buy me dinner first.”
It is Finn’s turn to be wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, but it doesn’t stop him from purring, “I’ll think about it. Where do you want to go?”
Austin grins and raises an eyebrow.
“Dammit, now you’ve got me acting familiar. It’s my turn to be sorry. That was unprofessional.” Finn shakes his head and gestures for Austin to stand up. “I need your pants off so I can see your knees, please. Forget what I said before. It was highly inappropriate of me to say that to a patient.”
“I don’t mind,” Austin says, standing up to get his pants off. Finn offers him a thin hospital sheet, hoping to save his mate’s modesty and his sanity, but the injured human can’t manage with the injuries to his shoulder and fingers. Finn will make sure to check them and his head before they leave. Together , if Finn has anything to say about it.
“May I help you?” At Austin’s small nod, Finn grasps the frayed waistband of his sweatpants and slides them down. Crouched at Austin’s feet, he looks up, imagining he might someday be in this position for an entirely different reason, and it makes his skin hot and that electric feeling in his belly bloom.
He wants to lean forward and dig his teeth into the soft, milky thighs and bury his nose in his favorite spot: the juncture between hip and thigh where his mate’s scent would be strongest. But of course, now is not the time. He’s ashamed to be thinking of pleasure when his mate is in pain.
Finn is clearly not the only one affected by his position, though he can’t be sure exactly what’s going through the human mind. His mate is trembling, and his hand twitches as if he wants to bury it in Finn’s hair. Carefully pulling the sweatpants away from the slowly seeping wounds in his mate’s knees, he holds back a grimace.
He wastes little time in lifting the smaller man onto the bed gently, something he would never do to a patient otherwise. Austin gasps at the easy show of strength.
Deciding to put a stop to the self-recriminations, Finn sets about his task. He’ll save those for later; after he’s gotten his mate to safety.
“Okay, Austin. Again, this will hurt. No. Don’t tell me you’re used to it. My heart can’t handle it anymore. Please. Just let me know if you need me to stop.” If the human is surprised at his doctor’s familiarity, he doesn’t say it. Maybe he, too, has decided to just go with the flow.
“Okay, Finn. I will. I trust you.” Finn’s wolf preens at the praise, wagging his proverbial tail. He tries to focus on treating the wounds. It still takes another fifteen minutes before he’s gotten all the glass out of the wounds, flushing them out and applying bandages. A few more minutes and he’s finished his concussion exam as well.
It’s cold in the ER and even when he’s replaced the torn sweatpants with the smallest pair of scrubs he could find, his mate shakes with the crash of adrenaline. Quickly removing his white coat, Finn tugs off his baby blue sweater to pull it over his mate’s messy blond head, leaving Finn in just his collared dress shirt. The sweater is much too big, but it suits him perfectly, and using his sweater “paws,” Austin pulls the collar to his nose so he can inhale deeply.
His small smile is sad when he says, “Thank you, Finn, for everything. I won’t forget—I’ll just warm up and return this. Then I have to go, okay?” Just seeing his mate in his clothes satisfies a deep-seated need to provide for his mate, and it also helps mute some of the rotten pear scent with his own. Finn can’t be blamed if he stands staring into Austin’s eyes longer than is polite.
Finn insists he stays to eat the sandwich Dennie brings at exactly the thirty-minute mark. “You eat that, Austin, and I’ll go and arrange the x-ray of your shoulder to check for any damage. Also, some blood work for anything else. Do you want hot chocolate? There’s some in the staff lounge. I’ll be right back, okay?” He’s rambling and is loath to leave him, but he needs to get started on the diagnostic requisitions to delay Austin’s departure.
Anything to keep the human here and out of harm’s way, to give Finn more time to even broach the subject of his home situation. His desire to do the right thing as Austin’s doctor and his need to respect him and his privacy are at war with his desire to protect his mate. As much as calling Jay and forcing Austin into his alpha’s car and into their den where they can protect him sounds ideal, Austin has the right to make his own choices.
In the end, the opportunity escapes him.
Maybe he should have known already that Austin would leave while his back was turned, because when he returned, the bed was empty, and the sandwich was still in its plastic wrapper. Austin is gone, like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. Taking his favorite sweater and a not-so-little piece of his heart with him.