Page 26 of Pistols & Peonies

She nods quickly, looking down at her computer screen and clicking her mouse a few times. “Looks like he just got in. I’m not sure if he’s available, but–”

“It’s urgent,” I bark, not even bothering to mask the snarl in my voice.

She flinches, then nods again, scrambling to pick up the desk phone as I drum my fingers against the counter impatiently.

“Dr. Aspen, Commander Kane is here to see you,” she chirps, keeping her head ducked as she listens to his response, eyes flicking nervously toward me like I might leap over the desk and rip her throat out.

With the way my wolf’s been acting lately, it’s not entirely implausible.

She hums in affirmation, then sets the phone down on the receiver, peering up at me meekly. “He’ll be right out.”

I jerk a nod, pushing off from the desk and pacing over to windows. They span an entire wall of the lobby, the city below gray and sullen in the overcast morning haze. My eyes glaze over as I stare out at the sweeping skyline, head pounding while my thoughts tangle and fray.

At least he doesn’t keep me waiting long. Barely a minute passes before Dr. Aspen appears in the lobby, his white lab coat swallowing up his scrawny frame. I must look as terrible as I feel, because the guy practically does a double-take when he sees me, quickening his pace.

“Commander,” he greets as he approaches, extending a hand. “This is an unexpected–”

I cut him off with a single, well-pointed glare. “I need to be examined.”

His smile falters, but he recovers quickly, schooling his expression into a look of professional concern. “Of course. Come on back.”

Spinning on a heel, he gestures for me to follow him down the hall. Except there’s only one man in this pack I follow. Two long strides, and I’m at his side, setting the pace. It’s a dominance thing, hard-wired and instinctive.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Dr. Aspen asks, glancing over at me assessingly.

“A few days,” I mutter.

“You should’ve come to see me sooner,” he replies, gesturing to an open door just ahead and bowing his head in submission. “After you.”

I breeze past him into the exam room. It’s a box of sterile white and stainless steel, every surface scrubbed so clean it probably gives him a hard-on. A shiver crawls up my spine at the thought of the last time I was in one of these rooms, strapped to a table for my serum extraction procedure.

“Please, have a seat,” he directs as he follows me in and closes the door behind us.

I drop down to sit on the edge of the exam table in the center of the room, leaning forward and bracing my elbows on my knees.

Dr. Aspen rolls over a small stool and sinks down onto it, pulling a tablet from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Let’s start with symptoms.”

“Can’t sleep,” I murmur. “Can’t eat. I’m jittery as shit, and I wanna rip my own head off it hurts so bad. I just feel… wrong. Like something’s rotting inside me. I think my wolf’s sick.”

He jots down a few notes with his stylus, then glances up at me, eyes sharp. “When did it start?”

I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair as I tip my head back to squint up at the fluorescent light panels. “Shortly after the Pairing, I guess?”

He hums to himself, taking more notes. “And your mate? How is she?”

“Don’t know,” I mumble. “Haven’t seen her.”

“Ah,” he breathes, glancing up to me with a knowing glint in his eye that makes my skin crawl. “So, you haven’t… fortified your union?” he asks with a little too much interest, tongue dragging over his thin lips.

I shake my head with a grunt. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

He nods to himself, glancing back down at his tablet and tapping the stylus against the screen. “Have you experienced anything like this before in the past? From what I hear, the enforcers’ field training can sometimes impact their wolf’s psyche.”

“No,” I snap, frustration bubbling in my veins. “This isn’t PTSD, doc. This is my wolf losing his fucking shit.”

He jerks his head up, brow furrowing in thought for a moment. Then he looks back down at his tablet, tapping with his stylus again. “I’m going to have my assistant draw some blood and run a full panel,” he murmurs. “Rapid metabolic and toxin screens, check all your levels. If it’s a physical ailment, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Good,” I grumble, burying my face in my hands.