Mated To My Best Friend's Lycan Alpha Brothers novel Chapter 363

Chapter 363: Pathetic Mutt

(Author’s POV)

"Take me to see him ...." Fabian spoke laboriously. Though he had woken up without any major scare, his physical condition was still fragile. And the mental stress he was experiencing was making it even worse.

"Young master~ .... you can’t meet him, right now," Chris said, his voice patient outwardly, though he was filled with anxiety on the inside.

Despite his condition, Fabian spat discontentedly while snatching his body away from Chris, "Let go. I- ... will .... go to him, on~ my own." As he shrugged off Secretary Shadow, he lost his balance once again and tumbled down. His already split open wound landed on a raw, serrated fragment of ceramic. An instant, painful, gut wrenching, grunt came out of the depths of his very soul, "ARGHHHH ..." In that moment, he felt like someone had literally rubbed a packet full of salt on his wound. His eyes turned bloody red.

"YOUNG MASTER," Chris was quick on his toes, his voice laced with panic. He pulled Fabian and settled him on the couch and roared, "Ms. Hector~ ... come here fast."

Iris, who had been watching from the sidelines, strolled towards them with a neutral expression.

"What are you waiting for? Treat him," Chris saw the expressionless look on her face and insisted, he sounded disparaging.

She gave a wry twist to her lips and approached Fabian, her facial expression unchanged. Settling on the couch beside him, she took his arm. There was not even a drop of concern in her eyes. Tracing her fingers over his ghastly looking, blood oozing wound casually, she gave it a light squeeze.

That little action came with excruciating pain. Fabian hissed, a fresh wave of ache washed over him. He tried to pull his hand back, but Iris held his arm firmly, not giving him any escape route.

Chris spoke, his voice sounded as if he were the one in pain, "Can you be careful ...."

"Are you the healer, or am I?" Iris stated reproachfully, "Go and bring my kit and other necessary equipment." Her voice came out dismissively.

Without wasting anytime, Chris sprinted away with urgency.

Iris shifted her attention back to Fabian, not in any mood to make haste. The latter glanced at her, his eyelids heavy and blurry from the moistness. With gritted teeth, he managed to squeeze out, "Ms. Hector~ ... my~ .... my grand~father. How is~ ... he doing?"

She looked into his eyes with unmasked contempt. Scoffing inwardly, ’After not being here all night. Now he is asking about his majesty’s health, uhh? Calling him grandfather and all? Pathetic mutt. Tskkkk~ .... even the scent of his blood doesn’t stimulate my appetite.’

"He is in his room, getting treatment," she spoke in a matter of factly tone.

Though Jacob’s grandson by blood, Fabian, wasn’t regarded by most of the other clan members. Iris being one of the lot. She loathed the fact that he didn’t have any real vampire traits within him. But what really irked her the most was how lightly he considered the bloodsucker kind, always showcasing his negligible authority over them, as if he owned them.

At least, that was the hearsay going around the clansmen and women alike. It had spread like a contagious disease, and most of them believed it to be true.

This has a lot to do with Fabian’s childhood. In a house full of Fangs holders, he, alongside Chris were the only human. To protect himself, he either hid away or kept his guard up and talked with a cold tone. For him, it was a defence mechanism, but for those serving vampires, they considered his behaviour unruly and rude. He was instantly labelled as an ’Interloper mutt.’

"How is he?" panting heavily, he questioned.

Her eyes bored at him, her voice laced with sarcasm, "Isn’t it too early to ask now? He is barely~ ..." she was about to tell him, but Chris scurried back in the living room, with her kit in hand.

As he couldn’t enter Jacob’s room, he called out one of the healers and asked for it. The person queried for the purpose and gave him the necessary instruments.

"Here~ ...." he handed Iris the bag. Sanitizing her hand, she cleansed the wound with slow yet practiced ease, irrigated and debrided it thoroughly. Though a healer, she had mastered proper medical skills, and this was a piece of cake for her.

As the needle took its first bite, Fabian doubled over in agonizing pain. He attempted to endure it by gritting his teeth, his other hand was clenched, his nails digging in his palms, but his shallow breaths and grunts gave him away. Still, he didn’t say anything to her.

Chris couldn’t bear any longer, he spat unceremoniously, "Iris Hector, did you not use anaesthesia? The young master is~ ...."

"Don’t have any~ ...." she replied bluntly, cutting him off, and passed the needle a second time. Fabian buried his head in the couch’s headrest, unable to speak anything. This was pure and evil torture.

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