Chapter One
Rhomas
Hemlock Memorial Hospital, Hemlock Mountain
My favorite surgeries to watch were appendectomies.
Sitting in the gallery was always tense.
No matter how many surgeries a door watcher sits through, he never really knew if this would be the time he needed to press the black button that alerted everyone in the operating room the shit was about to hit the fan they all stood facing.
I never had to press the black button on an appendectomy in my two decades as a door watcher.
They were usually quick ins and outs. Sure, it sucked to have appendicitis on New Year’s Eve and be conked out with a robot tickling your insides at seven PM on New Year's Eve too, but I was certain Rossalind Mayers would think death was worse than that even if the teenager hadn’t conceded that fact before her surgery.
She was missing out on the biggest party on Hemlock Mountain.
So were Jolly and I. Though, that’s why I volunteered to work tonight.
While I blended in better to shifter society now, I still hated parties unless my dads hosted them.
Jolly’s tail thumped against my sneaker.
The wolf was one thousand percent sure that I had the easiest job in the territory.
The people in the masks paid me to sit up here so they had at least one person watching while they showed off.
His job, of course, was to keep my lazy ass safe, sane, and fed while I did my easy-peasy job.
I could’ve scrolled through my phone or read a book but chose not to.
Most door watchers spend years training to spot doors as quickly as possible.
Most had to take the exam three times to pass.
They made me take it three times to prove that I hadn’t cheated.
They might’ve kept going forever, if my dads hadn’t submitted a long list of references from individuals who saw my skills in action over the years.
The little blonde boy was now barely a man and sent in a video of himself recounting how I saved him.
I’d only had to press the button four times in all my years working here.
Three of those shifters survived. One old wolf refused to get back into his body.
He threatened to give the doctor a free orchiectomy with his own surgical knife if he ran one more round of life saving measures.
He hadn’t wanted open-heart surgery anyway.
He had wanted to reunite with his mate but his children had insisted and he’d given in.
If anything, the door showing up, proved to him that he was right and that it was time to move on to whatever the universe had in store for him on the other side of his current life.
“Sewing her up,” the surgeon said in the operating room below me. “How are we feeling up there, Rhomas?”
“Nothing, doctor. A blissful nothing.”
“Good. I want to get out of here in time to make my nine o’clock reservation for…” his words were lost when another man dressed in scrubs entering the gallery.
“Don’t count on it, doctor. We have a gallbladder removal that the on-floor doctor doesn’t want pushed back,” the man said.
It was hard to keep track of all the nurses and other medical staff that came and went through Hemlock Memorial Hospital.
I knew most of the older surgeons through my parents and most of the younger ones made it a point to get to know me because I watched their back while they were in the OR.
The surgical nurses were my favorites, of course, because they knew what was what and were often quicker to take my advice before the doctors even considered it.
“It’s so rushed tonight that I bet someone said it was quiet earlier before we got here,” Jolly said over our link.
They probably had. I wasn’t superstitious before coming to work at the hospital but after the first time I heard those dreaded words whispered, I started to rethink all the superstitions I had ever heard.
Except for the ones about black cats, of course.
That was just bigoted on so many levels that I didn’t even bother.
“You staying on while I suck out a gallbladder, Rhomas?” the surgeon asked.
“Wouldn’t want to be anyplace else.”
Gallbladder surgeries were often simple too. Never had to even consider pressing the black button during one of those either. Only I’d never speak such things aloud and jinx it.
Between surgeries, surgeons and their staff have to take breaks.
I’ve encountered more than one patient or family member who was irate that we dare stretch our legs, check on other patients, use the restroom, or eat while they waited for us.
I liked to use the time to walk with Jolly around the ER.
Sometimes I wandered up and down the halls of the department.
Sometimes I wandered the waiting room. I’d had to inform ER staff that a door was about to interrupt their night more often than I ever had to push a black button in the gallery.
I’d never admit it aloud, but I was a little in awe of how fearless and quick-witted ER nurses and doctors were.
They seemingly had the answer to every medical emergency or at least an idea of what to try.
Though they had incredible funding and with wealth and investment in community health came the great privilege of saving lives.
After Jolly and I used the ‘family’ bathroom (yes, he was toilet trained.
All my wolves were. It made life easier in a pinch.
Though, given the choice, he still preferred a tree or patch of grass) we headed to the cafeteria.
Jolly had recently gotten a taste for fries, but I didn’t let him have many.
His little organs couldn’t handle all the salt he tried to cajole the cafeteria workers to put on them for him.
He was the most spoiled wolf I’d ever had.
After we ate, we started toward the ER. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night and if more surgeries came in at this time of day it was always from the ER.
The place smelled like vomit and blood tonight.
Burning skin wafted through the air. I twisted my head this way and that ensuring that a wildfire hadn’t broken out while we were in surgery.
“Too close for a wildfire,” Jolly thought at me and my wolf agreed.
“I’m going to skin the mother fucker alive!” a wolf growled. “I’m going to take his testicles and---” the rest of his words were lost to someone else howling. “They are the most bloody vile and---”
“Sir, we cannot help your friend if you insist on hollering down the hospital. I don’t know how they run things at Moonscale Memorial but this isn’t how we do things here.
I’m happy to call the guards to take your statement.
I agree with you. Anyone who discharges a firework that causes harm should receive a free vasectomy.
I’m not authorized to enforce that train of thought.
I’d suggest writing to Sky or Darian Hemlock and sending photos of your friend’s arm.
Now, move out of my way before I run you over.
Unless you’d like to find out what surgery I suggest for well-meaning friends and family members of my patients who get in my way. ”
I knew that mousey voice anywhere. She squeaked loud and proud and was the best emergency room doctor I’d encountered since coming to work at Hemlock Memorial Hospital.
Doctor Miranda Greene. She was indeed a mouse shifter but she’d bowl anyone over with a hospital gurney if that’s what it took to save her patient and preserve their quality of life.
Jolly and I sprinted through the hallway until we found ourselves near the ambulance port.
“Calm him down, Rhomas, and I don’t want to hear that it’s not your job!” she squeaked at me as she rolled the bed past.
The man on the gurney smelled like cooked bear.
His friend leaned against the wall near the thick glass doors of the ambulance bay, taking slow deep breaths.
Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but his fists squeezed together so tightly that I feared he might pop a vein in one of his forearms. I took a step forward, led by Jolly who was a born hospital wolf, happy to cheer anyone up.
Once a suicidal raccoon shifter came down on the roof just to pet him. If anyone had superpowers it was him.
I took a few steps forward and stopped. Something was about to happen.
The air charged with tension that vibrated all over my body.
I’d never felt this sort of charge before.
It wasn’t the static of a door or the roaring, eerie hum of a fight about to break out.
It didn’t rumble gently under my feet like an earthquake or ruffle my hair over my ears like a storm.
No, this was new and it all traveled to my chest and groin.
My groin. My dick. The damn thing hardened as Jolly approached the crying, enraged man.
I took a deep breath and tried to force my dick back into work mode.
Now wasn’t the time to romp or play or sneak off to take the edge off a long day. Crying did NOT turn me on.
Only, the sensation grew and morphed. It vibrated through me, sliding up and down and in circles until it settled behind my belly button and tugged me toward the man.
He was beautiful despite the tears. He had big brown eyes and dark hair.
His lips were full and kissable and…. I was going to lose my job if I didn’t get my brain out of my dick.
I sniffed the air, trying to discern what beast hid below his skin.
He was a wolf like me. An omega wolf. A gorgeous omega wolf wronged by bastards who I’d rip the entrails out of and present to him as a gift for our pups to devour… .