by Olivia Myers
Mating the Doctor
By Olivia Myers
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
A punch to the face is something no one wants to receive, no matter how big and tough they are. It still hurts like a bitch.
Drake's head snapped back when a fist collided with his nose. He stopped and stood still before he swiped his arm across his face, wiping off the blood that was already pouring out of his nose.
"Big mistake," he growled at the men.
Drake had been played for a fool.
The morning had begun like any other. One of the first things Drake did every morning was check his email. He wasn't exactly tech-savvy, but he had been forced into the trend by one of his roommates, Rivers. He wasn't sure when it had been integrated into his routine, but it was simply something he did now. Normally there wasn't anything in the cyber mailbox, but that morning there was something.
Good Morning, Mr. Avivender. We know who you are and it shouldn't be hard for you to guess who we are. You have tried many times to come face to face with us and never have been successful. Today, we're giving you a chance of a lifetime. It's now come to a time to end all this foolery. If you want a fair shot at justice, meet us at noon in the alleyway between 2nd Street and Calloway.
The email had been completely anonymous, but Drake did know who it had come from…or at least, he knew who he was meant to believe it was from. These were the people he had been after his entire life. Drake honestly didn't care if it was real or not. He would never let a lead go uninvestigated.
He’d stayed hidden away in his room until it was time to go. He had spent the morning pacing and stuck in the prison of his thoughts—the place he hated most of all.
He tried to get out of the house as quickly as possible, running down the stairs and heading for the door, hoping the triplets, his roommates, wouldn't see him. At the very least, he hoped they wouldn’t ask where he was going. Unfortunately, nothing worked out that well for Drake.
"Hey, Z!" he heard Raider yell from the living room. "Where are you going?"
Drake had debated not stopping at all, completely ignoring him. He felt like it crossed the line of rude when he saw Rivers standing by the door. Drake tried to hide his wince, but he wasn't sure he was successful.
"Can I come?" Rivers asked.
"No," Drake growled.
"Why not? I need to go to the store anyway," Rivers tried desperately to reason.
Rowan strolled out of the library, glaring at his brothers, "Leave Drake alone. He obviously doesn't want the two of you bothering him."
Drake felt his body deflate with defeat. The words Rowan spoke had truth to them, but Drake didn't want them to be said so harshly.
"I have some personal matters to attend to," Drake told the men. "I have to go alone, but we can go out and do something later. Okay?"
The men agreed and let him go in peace. On a normal day, he would be slightly irritated yet still let the triplets come alone with him. But this was not the case; they didn't need to get involved with what Drake had to do today.
Drake arrived in the alleyway at exactly noon. It was grimy and dark. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be caught dead in a place such as this one, but he was on a mission. Nothing was going to stop him from avenging his parents’ deaths.
There was no one else there at first. Drake strained his ears, trying to hear something. There was nothing. He quickly glanced at his watch to see that it was past noon. Maybe this was another dead end.
Either way, Drake was going to stick around for an hour before he gave up. He always did.
Within five minutes, Drake realized that he was no longer alone. He started looking around quickly, trying to see who was here. He didn't see anyone.
A mass landed on him, causing Drake to crumple against the ground. Without missing a beat, Drake pushed the mass off of him and sprung to his feet. There was a man in front of him. He must have jumped from a rooftop and onto Drake.
They instantly started sparring. Hands were flying, but they weren't alone. There was someone else here. Drake tried his best to spot the other person, but he was distracted with making sure the other man didn't get the upper hand.
That's when he heard footsteps behind him. Drake gave the man in front of him a blow to the chest so he could spin around and see the other person.
That's when Drake proceeded to get punched in the face.
Once he’d wiped away the blood, Drake lifted his leg to kick the second assailant away. He could hear the first attacker getting back onto his feet. Drake was outnumbered if only slightly; he was still at a disadvantage and he couldn't afford that.
If Drake was able to shift, he could wipe both of them out in a second. Unfortunately, an alleyway in the middle of the city wasn't the ideal place to shift into a dragon.
The man got to his feet and started to advance toward Drake in a sprint. Drake caught his jaw in a bone-crushing right hook, sending him back once more. Drake whipped around quickly and ducked under the second man's swinging arm. A blow to the back sent that man flying as well. Drake was starting to feel slightly confident that he was going to come out of the battle victorious. Yet as confident as he was in his fighting abilities, he didn't like to become too arrogant.
All hope was lost when Drake was tackled to the ground by one of the men. They were surely going to end what they had started so long ago and kill Drake. He was the only survivor to their massacre; they had been hunting him just as he had been hunting them.
His suspicions were proved to be correct when he felt a burning, sharp pain in his side. As soon as he registered the pain, his body went into shock. His was on the brink of consciousness and all his senses were blurred.
Drake could hear the two men yelling at each other, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. He saw two pairs of feet run past. Those cowards had left Drake to die.
Before he could stop himself, he lost the battle with consciousness and his eyelids closed on their own accord.
*
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What the hell had the triplets planted in Drake's room to annoy him this time? He wondered why he wasn’t allowed any peace in his own house.
He forced his eyes open even if he felt like sleeping for a few more hours. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't looking at his bedroom ceiling. Nor was he lying in his bed.
Was he in the hospital?
That's when Drake remembered he had been stabbed in the alleyway. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but he needed to leave immediately. He was in a vulnerable situation. Those men were going to take advantage of his weakened state one way or another. They were either going to flee while Drake couldn't follow them, or they were going to finish the kill while they had the chance. Neither of those opinions was acceptable.
He got out of the bed and started to take the damn wires out of his arm when a voice froze him to the core.
"Uh, sir? You can't do that. In fact, you need to lie back down. You just had surgery."
Drake was a statue who couldn't move no matter how much he had to. That voice awoke something inside of him that he had never experienced before. He had heard tales of these feelings; these were the tales of mates.
If Drake had thought his reaction to the stranger's
voice was bad, he wasn't prepared for what the man's touch would do.
He hadn't registered the man's footsteps drawing nearer when he was so consumed in thought. Then the man placed his hand on Drake's shoulder. Drake was simply frozen earlier, but now he was completely rigid. He was having to physically hold himself back from claiming the man in the hospital room where they stood. That wasn't normal behavior for humans, and Drake would horrify everyone if he gave in to his carnal desires.
"Sir? Could you please get back into the bed?" the voice urged.
Fuck. Drake was as hard as a rock.
He didn't say anything, nor did he look at the man. He couldn't. If he looked at his mate now, then he would lose all the self-control that he had. Drake scuffled back over to the bed and got back in it.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" the man asked.
Drake glanced at him from under his lashes, taking a sideways glance at the man without looking at him full on. The first thing he noticed was the white coat; this man was obviously a doctor. He was slightly slender and tall, but nowhere near as tall as Drake. It was to be expected, as shifter males tended to be bigger than human males.
Drake didn't dare look at the man's face; he couldn't.
"I was jumped and stabbed," Drake responded.
"Yes, you were. You also needed surgery to correct the wound."
The man moved away from Drake's bedside and started to look at one of the monitors he was hooked up to.
Drake stood up again. "I need to leave."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. You were extremely hurt. You still are hurt. You aren't going anywhere," his mate said.
"You really don't understand."
Drake had his legs dangling over the edge of the bed when he felt both of the man's hands against his chest. No one's touch had ever affected Drake like this man’s did. Simply feeling this man's hands against him set Drake aflame.
If he could have it his way, Drake would grab both of the man's hands and flip him over the bed. His primal urges screamed for Drake bend the man over and dominate him. His member was straining and begging to be inside of his mate.
Humans didn't act like that.
Drake needed to keep it together.
"I think you are the one who doesn't understand, sir," the man said. "I can't let you go anywhere. Besides, I have some questions to ask you."
Drake lowered himself back into the bed with a growl. He didn't want to listen to anything this man was saying. But this was his mate, so maybe Drake could indulge him for a moment. As soon as the doctor left the room, Drake would make his escape.
Since the doctor was being indulged by Drake, maybe Drake should indulge himself. He sucked in an encouraging breath before he finally looked up into his mate's face for the first time.
He was stunning. He was unlike anyone that Drake had ever seen before, but completely perfect. His face reminded Drake of the old-time aristocracy. His cheekbones were vaulted and sharp. His nose straight and small. His eyes and lips were his biggest features; his eyes were a beautiful light blue. They were shielded behind tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was a sandy light brown. It was shaved close on the sides but the top was long and curly. Drake's mate was so gorgeous, Drake was completely awestruck.
"I can't stay here forever," Drake whispered.
The doctor sat down in a chair by Drake's bedside. "I'm not asking you to stay here forever. Just until you're nice and healed."
Drake couldn't help but smirk at the doctor. "Alas, I don't think our timelines are the same."
"What is your name?" the doctor asked. "When you came in, we looked for an ID so we could call your family, but we couldn't find anything."
"Drake Tal Avivender," he said as his chest puffed up. His name was one of pride. Before his world had literally been burned to the ground, his family had been royal warriors. Drake had very little left of his family; his name was the strongest tie he had to them.
The doctor pulled out a paper out of the file he was holding and wrote down Drake's name. "Is there anyone you want us to call?"
"No." Drake shook his head. "There's no one I want here currently. I have no more family."
The doctor looked away and cast his eyes downward, looking away from Drake's.
Drake frowned. He had seen this emotion a lot and normally he despised it—pity. But coming from his mate? It felt completely different than it ever had before. Somehow when the pity came from his mate, it was actually comforting. It felt good. Drake had never been able to feel anything akin to comfort after the demise of his family.
"Don't worry about it. It happened a long time ago," Drake assured the doctor.
The doctor looked up and gave him a soft smile. "Nonetheless, I'm sorry for whatever happened with your family."
Drake nodded. "I appreciate that."
The doctor stood up from the chair. "I have paperwork to do, but I'll be back to check on you soon."
Drake's eyes followed the man as he moved toward the door. Unable to help himself, he said, "Wait."
The word came out of Drake's mouth before he could stop it. He was trying to fight the urge as much as possible. To engage with the man as little as possible. For the doctor’s safety. But if he was going to let this man go, there was one thing that he needed to know.
"What is your name?" he asked the doctor. A beautiful face must have a beautiful name.
"Dr. Bradford," the man responded. He paused for a second before he smirked and said, "Isaac Dylan Bradford."
Drake smiled at the doctor as he picked up a cup of coffee he had set down by the door and walked out of the room. Isaac Bradford. He had a name that fit him perfectly.
Drake's eyes never left Isaac's figure as he moved around the area outside of his room. Isaac stopped at the nurse's station to talk to the woman behind the desk and give her something. Then he stopped to talk to another woman.
Considering the fact that Isaac was Drake's mate, he highly doubted the man was completely straight. It was possible that he was bisexual, Drake didn't know. But seeing Isaac talk to anyone who wasn't Drake enraged him in a way he hadn’t expected. To be fair, Isaac worked with these women and Drake couldn't hear what they were saying. It could be completely innocent, and it probably was.
Nonetheless, jealousy was burning white-hot inside of Drake. It felt like being stabbed all over again.
Chapter Two
Isaac stood in his lab, fighting the urge to scream. He was passionate about his research, which was how he’d gotten his own lab in the first place. But it wasn't always easy. The research was normally riddled with failure. When failure was repeated, it was completely infuriating. It wore Isaac down inside, but he had vowed not to stop until he found a cure for cancer.
He sat down on one of the stools and rested his head against the cool surface of one of the lab tables. Every day he didn't come closer to a cure, he felt like he was dishonoring his father's memory. This had quickly become the only thing he cared about after his father had passed away.
Dr. Michele Togger was Isaac's assistant to his cancer research. Over time, they had become close friends. Spending hundreds of quiet hours together in a room often leads to friendship. She had left to get them some coffee, so Isaac was shocked when she came back without any.
"Isaac," she said as she rushed into the room. "So you know the stabbing victim?"
Isaac lifted his head up off the table, "John Doe?"
"Yes. Everyone's talking about him."
Isaac was completely confused, "Talking about him? What do you mean?"
"I guess there's something weird happening to him. The surgeons were saying that they actually saw his organs repairing themselves right in front of their eyes."
Isaac scoffed, "That's impossible. I'm sure it's hospital gossip that has been grossly misunderstood and exaggerated like always."
"Whatever you say," Michele said with a shrug. She looked down at her empty hands. “I forgot to get us that coffee.”
He raised an eyebrow at the woman. "The gossip must’ve been good, huh?"
She laughed as she rushed back out of the room.
Once Isaac was alone again, he considered diving back into his work. But there was no way he could do any more work until Michele came back with some coffee.
It was slightly embarrassing when Isaac's boss walked in to see him doing practically nothing. The man didn't miss a beat, much to Isaac’s relief.
"Bradford, I want you to take the John Doe case," he said. "He's being moved to his room now."
Isaac was slightly shocked that he was being assigned this case; normally he was assigned more delicate, intricate cases, cases that were normally geared toward cancer patients. Isaac wasn't going to complain; he wanted to get out of this damn lab. He got off of the stool and walked toward the doorway where his boss was still standing. As he passed him on the way out, he was handed the file.
Isaac briskly walked down the hallway, reading the patient file as he went and dodging passing bodies without looking up from the paper. He was surprised to see that Michele’s gossip was recreated in the report. While he was reading over the surgery notes, he noticed there were a few weird claims of the patient's body trying to heal itself. Isaac had never heard of anything like this before. He walked faster, as he was eager to see what everyone was talking about and figure out an explanation for it.
Isaac arrived at the patient's room and peered inside. Lying on the bed was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen before. The man was still asleep and look angelic. He was so tall and broad, he was almost spilling over the sides of the hospital bed. He was tan and his skin was rough; he was obviously someone who spent a lot of time outdoors and under the sun. The muscles that Isaac could see peeking out from under the hospital gown were covered in winding, intricate tattoos. His hair was as black as midnight and slightly long. It came down over the top of his forehead and ears and curled slightly at the ends.
He was perfection.
Never in his career had Isaac ever been intimidated by a patient's appearance. But this one was different somehow. He found himself slightly nervous and apprehensive as he walked into the room. His hands shook when he reached to pull back the blankets and the man's gown to inspect the incision. He was surprised to see that it looked as if the man was a couple of days out of surgery and not fresh out of the operating room. This was unusual, but still not impossible. Isaac opened the man's chart and wrote down a few things as he walked out of the room.
