Chapter 14
Warm fingers pressed beneath my chin and I tilted my head upwards to let the doctor—Wolfie’s brother-in-law—do his work. “Hmm,” Dale murmured absently before pulling out a lighted something-or-other and peering inside my left ear.
I was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with my brain that a visual inspection could sort out. Still, it was hard to grumble when the pair had driven several hours to give me access to the only certified medical doctor able and willing to work on werewolf-kind.
“Well, you look like you’re still alive,” Dale said at last, tucking away the tools of his trade as he completed the physical portion of his assessment. “And even though the DSM-5 doesn’t cover shifters, I’d say your intangible symptoms line up nicely with a diagnosis of recurrent dissociat
