Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
CONNOR
S omething’s wrong. Fiona’s sick. Really sick. I can sense her pain down the spiderweb of a connection the mating bond has woven between us. But it’s pain without a clear source. This isn’t emotional or psychological. She’s in physical pain.
I bring her something to drink and then leave her to rest when it appears she’s fallen into a deep sleep. Then I call Morwyn. The Virgo is the best doctor I know, dragon or human. I tell him it’s an emergency and insist he has to come himself. Taking him away from his clinic, demanding he come here, it doesn’t go over well, but I don’t care. I’m Aries. For the next month, I’m calling the shots.
And I can’t stand to see her like this.
The surge of my protective instincts has me running a hand down my face. Fiona is an unexpected complication. I went to France to confront Stefan, not to find a mate. Now that I’ve wrestled my dragon into submission, I realize the mess I’m in.
There’s absolutely no way I can mate the fiancée of the grandmaster’s son. Nonnegotiable.
If Roman takes Fiona’s abduction to the press, avoiding human detection is going to be a pain in the ass. Under the rare chance that the Order is not behind Lucy Vale’s murder, my actions today could be viewed as breaking the accord. I might have started a war instead of helping avoid one.
In sum, I’ve royally fucked up, all because I allowed my dragon and my dick to take control of my brain.
I pause my self-loathing when Morwyn arrives. After a quick explanation, I show him to her room. He agrees to assess her, but only if I wait in the hall. Patient privacy. I pace outside the door, trying not to think about him touching her. I hate the idea of Morwyn alone with her, of him looking at her skin, at her scar. I catch myself growling and make a beeline into the kitchen to distract myself, but I only end up pacing a different floor.
Way too much time passes before the door opens again. My dragon is on the verge of throwing a full-out hissy fit at the delay. Morwyn must notice, because he darts a cautious look in my direction, his black bag clutched in his hands between us as he meets me in the foyer.
“So? What’s wrong with her?” I grumble. Fucker better start talking.
He gestures for us to move to the table outside the kitchen. Good idea. Fiona needs her rest, and I’m liable to raise my voice.
“Explain again why Roman Cifarelli’s fiancée is in your hunting cabin?” he asks.
I blow a breath out my nose. “I’m holding her to force Stefan to meet with me about Lucy Vale’s murder.”
Morwyn’s eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you take Roman? Or better yet, corner Stefan?”
“Stefan wasn’t there.”
“Stefan didn’t attend his own son’s wedding?”
“He was conspicuously absent. Mark my words. Something weird is going on here. I took the girl because she was the easier target. I acted alone.”
He nods, his jaw tightening. “No shit you acted alone. You acted impulsively. Ellison tells me the four cleared you to read Stefan’s mind, not abduct his future daughter-in-law. So what happened, Connor?”
As a Virgo, Morwyn is a living lie detector. He knows I’ve handed him a partial truth, but I don’t have the patience for his games right now. “Never mind. What’s done is done. Tell me what’s wrong with her.”
“Have you ever heard of fibromyalgia?”
“Heard of it? Yeah, I guess. Why, does she have it?”
“Yeah. She’s had it for over a year now. She knows what to expect.”
“And what’s that?”
“Days, weeks, sometimes months of pain, weakness, and fatigue. She says her last one lasted a couple of weeks. She couldn’t get out of bed for days.”
“Fuck. Can’t you give her something for it? ”
“I’ve given her pain meds, but only rest and relaxation will help her recover. I don’t need to tell you that her being held hostage here is not what she needs to feel better. You should take her home. She’d heal faster in her own place.”
I cross my arms. “I can’t exactly return her. Seb hasn’t even had a chance to deliver my ransom message to Stefan yet.”
“Then I think she should come to the clinic with me. We can take better care of her until you work this out.”
My blood runs icy at the thought of her going anywhere without me, and my dragon gives a possessive growl. “She’s mine .”
Morwyn frowns, eyes narrowing as his head rolls back on his neck. “Oh shit, Connor. You didn’t… She’s not…”
I clear my throat and hold up a hand. “She’s my responsibility. End of story. The clinic is too risky. The Order will have eyes everywhere. She stays here.”
No way is Morwyn buying that explanation. He sees it. My dragon is putting off mating vibes like pheromones. The set of his shoulders changes, and Morwyn’s finger pokes hard into my sternum. “Look, fucker, I get it. It’s your alignment, and your dragon is calling the shots. But that woman in there is seriously ill. If you’re keeping her here, you better take care of her. And I mean all of her daily needs, asshole. I’ll be stopping in every so often to see how she’s doing. If you so much as think about using her to ease your mating sickness?—”
“Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that. She’s sick. ”
“Right. We all know how in control we all are during our alignments.” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Hey! I’m as chill as I need to be. She’s safe with me.”
He studies me for a long moment and then nods. “I believe you believe that, Connor. But do you truly understand how fragile she is?”
“Of course I do.” My words snap out more aggressively than I want them too.
He sighs. “Just keep your little dragon to yourself. Fiona needs food, rest, and for you to do what you can to manage her stress.”
“Got it covered.”
He stands his ground, his hand brushing back the tail of his lab coat to come to rest on his hip. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to let me take her to the clinic? There’s no shame in admitting you need help given the circumstances. During my alignment, I often call in another dragon to?—”
I slash my hand through the air between us. “I’ll. Take. Care. Of. Her. End of discussion.”
He scowls. “Fine, brother .” Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a bottle of pills. “No more than one every twelve hours. Make sure she eats, drinks, and bathes. She’ll need help to the bathroom. Once she’s feeling better, work up to daily walks. Help her sleep if you have to. Your nearness should hasten her recovery.”
“Nearness. Yeah,” I say absently, examining the pills. I’ve never had to take care of anyone before other than Bones, and Zaire helps with most of that. My first instinct is to call my Firetender for help with Fiona too. But no, I want to care for her myself. Mates do that for each other. “I’ll take care of her,” I promise again, as much for my own benefit as for Morwyn’s.
“Fine.” Morwyn makes a noise deep in his throat, as if he’s resolved on the matter but still doesn’t think it’s the best idea. He turns and strides toward the door. “Get to the Oracle, Connor, so she can talk some sense into your Aries ass.”