Page 38 of Wanted
There’s an assurance in his grasp that I didn’t know I needed.
“When you say shaman, what exactly does that mean?” I ask as we head into the doctor’s office.
A chime sounds as the door pushes over the threshold.
I glance up at Chance and tug on his hand, slightly, when he doesn’t answer.
“What does a shaman do exactly?” I have his attention.
He tilts his head to the side. “He’s more of a doctor than a shaman these days,” he answers.
I start to ask him for clarification, but we’re interrupted. A man of medium height, who appears to be in his sixties rounds the corner.
I could’ve sworn Chance said this Dr. Drake has been their doctor for three generations. That has to make him close to…
“Chance?” Dr. Drake says, breaking into my thoughts. He greets Chance with a smile, his bronzed cheeks wrinkling. “You’re back home. The pack has missed you.”
The older man pushes his black-framed glasses up his nose and then looks at me, his smile widening. He then drops his gaze between Chance and I.
That’s when I realize my hand is still firmly in Chance’s hold. The older man’s smile grows even wider.
“And this is?”
Chance peers down at me and then at our clasped hands. Slowly, he releases my fingers, almost as if he doesn’t want to let them go.
“This is Emery. I told you about her when I texted you,” Chance says in a businesslike tone.
“Ah yes.” The older man approaches with his arms outstretched. “Emery. The shifter who does not know she’s a shifter.”
He lets out a laugh as if he made a joke.
I look over at Chance. His face softens slightly. That must be his reassuring look. He’s telling me without words to trust this Dr. Drake.
“I-I don’t know what Chance told you,” I say to the doctor. “But I only found out that shifters exist yesterday. Out of the blue,” I add. “Despite what Chance believes, I can almost assure you that I’m not a wolf shifter.”
The doctor’s smile fades but doesn’t disappear completely. “Well, you would know your life experience more than anyone.”
His words don’t come across as condescending. For whatever reason, that gives me some reassurance.
“However, I would like to run some tests. If you’re open to it?”
I look between Chance and the doctor. “What kind of tests?”
“Blood tests. Listen to your heartbeat. The basics.”
“I go to the doctor regularly for my annual physicals and exams. I never get sick. I’m fit as a fiddle,” I say with assurance. I can’t even remember the last time I had more than the sniffles.
“My family goes to one of the best family practitioners where we’re from in Upstate New York.”
Surely, if there were something amiss in my tests the doctors would’ve brought it to my attention. I don’t want to tell this Dr. Drake that he and Chance are mistaken, but I’d know if I were a wolf shifter.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, something feels as if it moves in my belly. Almost like my stomach growling, but it’s not hunger I feel.
Are you sure?
A voice asks in my mind. I push it away as if it’s nothing more than my subconscious mind overworking itself, but I can’t help but notice the question has almost a distinct voice.
With a shake of my head, I return my attention to Dr. Drake.