My Father's Luna is My Mate

Chapter 4 : Can You Hear Me?

**Aria POV

I could feel the warmth of his lips as they hovered barely an inch away from mine. His strange yet alluring scent enveloped my senses, igniting an instinct that wanted nothing more than to reach for the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss.

But when he leaned forward to do just that, I found myself pulling away and getting out of the car.

There was no point in kissing a man like Noah; a high-ranking socialite had no business getting involved with a low-born like me unless it was for a night of quick pleasure. Besides, he assumed I was a prostitute, so he probably saw me as an easy f*ck anyway.

“Aria, wait!" Noah's voice echoed after me as I began to walk down the road.

I turned around and saw him get out of the car but not come any closer, merely gazing at me.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and gazed back.

“What is it?" I asked him in a casual tone.

Noah paused for a moment, as though deciding the best choice of words.

“This…was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be," he said sincerely with a small smile.

I smiled back at him.

“No, it was not," I answered and continued walking down the street.

***

The high spirits that I had garnered from my ride home with Noah suddenly vanished as I realized that it was merely a consolation prize for the potential loss of my career.

Bar and club owners in the red light district, while in competition with each other, stuck to a few social rules amongst themselves.

One of these rules would be to inform the other establishments in the district about any issues regarding high-ranking members of society in their establishment.

Jared would no doubt inform his peers about the altercation between an illegal healer and a Bergmann wolf. And they in turn would make sure to ban me from conducting business in, and perhaps even entering, their bars and clubs.

Atlas would not abandon me as my broker, but he would have difficulty finding me clients if my name had been blacklisted. I would soon be unable to afford paying rent for my small hovel of a house, and pity was not something easily found in a place where everyone was struggling.

I sighed heavily. I didn't have any skills other than healing that would grant me an income. I would soon have to kiss the roof over my head and my dream of one day being a certified healer goodbye.

My ramshackle house came into view. In the dimly lit slum street, it looked like it was already saying an early goodbye to me.

I shook my head and scolded myself.

I had survived a lot worse than eviction in my life, so why was I suddenly getting pessimistic all of a sudden? I always made a plan, and after a good night's sleep, that was exactly what I would do.

My revitalized train of thought was interrupted by the sight of a figure collapsed in front of my door. At first I just assumed it was a drunkard who had passed out after having one too many, but after kneeling down and taking a closer look at the unconscious older man, the evidence suggested that something different had happened.

His breathing was shallow and ragged. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead despite the chilly weather. He was sick, and if I left him out here there was no doubt that he would die during the night.

As a healer, I could not let that happen while knowing that there was something I could do.

I placed the man's arm around my shoulders and carefully lifted him to his feet, guiding him into my home.

***

The old man was in a bad way. I laid him down on the couch and stripped him, searching for any wounds that might have caused an infection. Seeing none, it left me with the conclusion that whatever was wrong with him was either viral or hereditary, and degenerative in nature.

“Sir," I said firmly. “Sir, can you hear me?"

His response was a grunt and the opening of his eyes, which glazed over. His body began to violently convulse as he struggled to breathe, his chest heaving and wheezing.

“Sh*t!" I cursed.

I rummaged through my bag, pulled out a teardrop-shaped herb, and placed it under his tongue. The old man's seizure began to subside, giving me time to try and figure out a more permanent solution.

I placed my nose close to his skin and inhaled, trying to catch the scent of any kind of toxin just in case it was ingested. But I couldn't detect any proof of foul play, which made things a little bit trickier.

My area of expertise was trauma injury, which was the most common need for a healer in the slums and outer city.

If this was a virus or hereditary disease then there was very little I could do with my limited resources.

Nevertheless, I steeled myself. Dipping my fingers into a dark blue paste, I began to draw a sigil in preparation to cast a diagnostic spell.

My body ached and my eyes burned, craving much-needed sleep.

This was going to be a longer night than I had anticipated.

***

Light streamed through my bedroom window, but my mind and body refused to answer its call. I had spent the last few hours of the night making sure that the old man I found on my stoop did not die in my small living room.

He was sick, that much I was certain of, but the identity of the sickness still eluded me. It was as if he had been rotting from the inside, like his organs were failing and disintegrating one by one. I had done all I could to stop it from killing him, but without help from a well-stocked facility, the chances of him surviving for a few more days were slim. I doubted a person from this part of the slums would be able to afford that kind of medical care without indentured servitude being on the receipt.

A sharp rap on the door pulled me violently from my sleepy thoughts and out of bed in an instant. I never had visitors, and no one in the slums were ever up this early except for cleaners heading into the inner city. And even they would have no business knocking on my door.

I sniffed the air and caught the scents of multiple male wolves outside my door, perhaps four or five: just the right amount for cops picking up a warranted arrest.

Someone must have betrayed me.

I could run, slip out the back window. But that would just prove my guilt. I would just have to continue the façade of being a s*x worker if the question went in the direction of an illegal healing practice.

I took a breath and opened the door confidently and was relieved to find that it was not the police, but I was still concerned as to why there was a group of strange men outside my house.

“Can I help you?" I asked them.

The tallest one wore a thick leather jacket, and looked down on me with disdain.

“We're looking for a wolf," he said gruffly, “around sixty years of age. His scent led us straight to this…house. Let us in so we can have a look around."

“Sorry, but unless you're cops with a search warrant, you tuck your tails up your a*ses and head back to whatever hole you crawled out of," I said firmly.

The wolf became visibly angry.

“Listen here, you wh*re!" he spat, displaying an array of sharp fangs. “I don't have to be a cop in order to raid a slum house like this. Let us in or we'll kill you first."

“Diggory, that is enough!" a gruff, cold voice snapped from behind me.

The old man had awoken and sat up on the couch, his searing red eyes glaring directly at the tall wolf in front of my house.

For the second time in the last twelve hours, I was in shock. The old man was an Alpha.

The wolves outside immediately dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

“Is this how you show gratitude to the woman who saved your Alpha's life?" he berated them fiercely.

“My apologies!" Diggory said in a shaken voice. “I didn't know."

The old man got to his feet with some difficulty, but maintained a regal air about him.

“Close the door and wait outside," he ordered. “I wish to discuss a suitable reward with my savior."

Diggory bowed his head once more and closed my front door behind him.

I turned my gaze to the Alpha in my living room.

“Who are you?" I asked him, not feeling like beating around the bush. “Judging from the way you speak, you must be a high society Alpha. The second I've met in the past day, actually, so forgive me for being a little bit weary."

He smiled.

“Your suspicion and skepticism in this situation are understandable, and admirable," he said gently, in an entirely different tone from what he used to address his pack just moments ago.

“I am Henry Bergmann, Alpha of the Bergmann pack, and I formally thank you for your aid."

Another Bergmann! And not just any Bergmann, but the Head Alpha, patriarch of one of the most powerful packs in the entire city…and who happened to be sitting on a dusty sofa. My dusty sofa.

“I barely did anything," I responded calmly. "All you needed was rest and some tea."

Of all the people who I could have healed while not being certified, why did it have to be him? I just needed to remain calm and do what I always did: push through.

Henry chuckled. “I'm no expert, Miss Thorlacius, but I think it takes a little bit more than rest to stave off a centuries-old disease," he said coyly.

My heart sped up. I balled my hands into fists, prepared to fight my way out if the situation came to that.

“How do you know my name?" I hissed at him.

Someone must have ratted me out, it was the only explanation. It couldn't have been Noah; he didn't know I was a healer.

Jared could have reported it to them to clear himself of any legal trouble, but it seemed unlikely for him to betray one of the outer city folk.

It could have been Atlas, but he'd lose clients if it was discovered that he ratted one of them out, as all of his clients were involved in some form of illegal activity.

“Relax," Henry said gently. “I'm not going to report you for practicing illegally. And as for how I know your name, there's very little that happens in this city without me knowing about it. I have informants everywhere.

“And as for why you have never been in trouble with the law, healers in the outer city are an integral part of the city's ecosystem. You've treated many of my pack members and employees without even realizing it."

I was not convinced.

“That makes no sense," I said, not relaxing one bit. “Why not just use certified healers? You can afford it."

“Because of politics," Henry put simply. “Now, I would like to discuss your p*****t. Unfortunately it comes with another price tag attached, but if you refuse my offer then I will leave you with a reasonable check for your services."

“And if I accept your offer?" I asked curiously, but cautiously. Nothing in this world was ever as good as it seemed.

“If you accept I will take you into my employ as my personal healer," he said with a cough. “You may have noticed that I am not plagued by an ordinary illness..."

His voice trailed off as he began to sway dizzily. I instinctively rushed forward before he planted face first onto the floor. However, he was quite heavy and tall; his weight took me by surprise and he collapsed onto me as I tried to support him.

Just then, the door opened and a familiar scent wafted in.