Third person's POV
This was why Tabitha had chosen Alvin over Rolf.
She adjusted her waterlogged mask, now nearly peeling off, and swiftly exited the scene.
Rolf muttered behind her, "Alpha Derek, don't go around hugging people. What if she gets clingy? Tabitha's still out there—what if she sees this and makes you wait another decade?"
Derek remained silent.
"But seriously," Rolf continued, "the doctor's build and height are identical to Tabitha's. Just the face is different."
Derek seized on this. "What did you say?"
"I said she looks like Tabitha, except for the face. Alpha Derek, don't get carried away—it's not like Tabitha to pop up just because you're poisoned. You've looked for her for three and a half years with no luck."
Derek rubbed his temples, chalking it up to longing-induced hallucinations.
Tabitha retreated to her room, exhausted from the sleepless night of brewing and changing medicines.
The first three days were critical—no breaks. Derek's earlier stunt had nearly blown her cover.
She removed her mask, dried it carefully, and changed into fresh clothes.
Thinking of Derek's stubborn nature, she realized he'd be easier to handle unconscious.
For the upcoming examination, Tabitha was ready for any tricks Derek might pull. She had a different medicine on standby, just in case.
Tabitha put her mask back on. She couldn't afford delays and took a shortcut to the cave.
While waiting for the medicine, she grabbed a few fruits to ease her hunger and tiredness.
"He won't let me examine him. You do it and describe what you see," Tabitha told Rolf.
"Got it."
While Tabitha was gone, Rolf updated Derek on his condition.
"The red veins have receded—up to the collarbone, down past the navel, and on his back, they've retreated to his buttocks," Rolf reported.
Derek glared, prompting a cough from Rolf.
"Details—colour, thickness, shape."
"Uh..."
Struggling for words, Rolf snapped a few discreet photos with his phone.
"Here, Doctor. Judge for yourself."
Though the photos avoided sensitive areas, Derek's physique was undeniably impressive.
Even a casual snapshot showcased his sharp jawline, delicate collarbones, wild abdominal muscles, and powerful thigh muscles.
Tabitha noted the red marks had faded by about ten per cent.
"Understood."
The next day, Derek was slightly better, though weakened by excessive sweating.
Rolf helped him out of the tub and draped a robe over his shoulders. No more frequent soaks needed.
Derek ate some fruit and rested on the furs.
Tabitha brought him a bowl of medicine.
Derek drank it without flinching, bitterness and all.
"Alpha Derek, I'm swapping shifts with Alvin," Rolf said, yawning.
"Dr. Vanessa, aren't you tired?"
Tabitha had barely slept in two days.
"One more day. The medicine can't stop. Also, ask Alvin to bring these herbs next time." She handed Rolf a list.
"On it."
Tabitha stoked the fire. Today, Derek's vision hadn't returned, so she added a special herb to his medicine.
Given his stubbornness, he'd never let her examine him willingly.
This was her only option.
She waited for the drug to take effect.
Derek dozed off, the line between dream and reality blurring.
He felt someone approach and asked warily, "Who's there?"
"It's me," came the familiar voice.
"Tabitha, this must be a dream."
The drug induced hallucinations—a dreamlike unreality. Tabitha planned to use this window to examine him. "Don't move," she said.
Before Derek could speak, he instinctively obeyed, fearing the dream might vanish.
He felt hands at his waist, undoing his belt. He grabbed the intruder's wrist—small, delicate, unmistakably Tabitha's.
"Tabitha, what are you doing?"
Tabitha was growing anxious. "No time. Just let me check."
She pulled open his robe. The sight was more vivid than any photo.
As she examined him, Derek suddenly flipped her beneath him. Tabitha's eyes widened. "What are you doing?!"
Without warning, his lips met hers. "Tabitha, I miss you."
This was not the reaction Tabitha had anticipated.
She'd expected compliance, not a kiss—especially not from a mouth that had been fed medicine by Alvin just yesterday.
A strange sense of self-inflicted irony washed over her.
"Derek, let me go!" she demanded.