Page 402 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Twitching in the hands?"

I hold them up. Steady.

"And the BioMuzzle?"

She looks at Ivy for this one.

"He's been doing better. Plague's been administering the injections," Ivy explains.

Administering is an interesting word to describe having Whiskey sit on me like a dog at the vet.

"Good," my doctor says, nodding. "Well. Your nerve response is considerably better than I expected. And without neural inflammation, your ferality should be dampened, even without the BioMuzzle. How has your sense of smell been?"

I sigh. Not great. A little better this morning.

"It'll be back soon," she assures me. "Well. In any case, you don't need more injections today. I want to see you again in six weeks, and we'll reassess then. But right now, the improvement is significant enough that giving you more could actually interfere with the healing process."

I nod, but I have one question before I'll let myself breathe.

My hands lift from my thighs.

Can I mark my mate?

My doctor's eyes move from my hands to Ivy, then back to me.

"A bonding bite," she says carefully.

I nod.

"On the standard site? Over her omega mark? Or… will this be more symbolic?"

Ivy tugs the collar of her sweater aside, baring the silver layered marks over the burn scar on her shoulder.

Dr. Jackson leans in, adjusting her glasses. Her fingers hover over the marks, brushing slightly against them.

"Four alpha bonding bites," Ivy tells her. "Layered deliberately to build up the scar tissue before Wraith's mark."

"Clever," Dr. Jackson says, hesitantly.

I know.

She examines my mate's shoulder more closely, pressing and feeling the tissue. "This scarring is substantial. This is considerably tougher than virgin skin."

Ivy catches my eye and mouths told you.

"However." Dr. Jackson straightens, turning to me. "I still have some concerns. Your teeth are sharp, almost certainly even sharper as a result of your ferality, and your bite force as a feral alpha is substantially above average. A standard bonding bite requires controlled pressure. Enough to break skin and trigger the hormonal cascade, but not so much you cause structural damage to the muscle beneath."

My stomach sinks.

"I'd like to do a bite-force test before I give you a definitive answer."

She crosses to a supply cabinet and retrieves a block of medical-grade silicone, dense and flesh-colored.

"Bite it the way you'd bite during a bonding," she says, placing the block of silicone in my palms. "We'll see if it will be safe."

I stare at the silicone.

My jaw aches at the thought of marking her. Of what my teeth could do to my mate.