Chapter 10 Kane
Kane
My wolf is sick.
It’s the only explanation I can come up with for the way the last forty-eight hours have gone to absolute hell.
I can’t sleep, can’t focus, can’t even settle into my own skin without feeling like I’m coming apart at the seams. I’ve spent the past two nights at my lake house, thinking distance would settle things.
Let the mate bond recede, give my wolf a chance to cool off.
It hasn’t.
If anything, it’s gotten even worse.
I’ve been keeping to my routine. Waking early, working out, heading into the office to tackle whatever bullshit’s thrown at me for the day. Returning home, scrubbing away the scourge of the day with a scalding hot shower, then settling in for another sleepless night. Rinse and repeat.
Except this morning, my hands are shaking with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion I can no longer ignore, my vision sliding in and out of focus through my morning commute.
I’d hoped being around other people would at least shame my body into pretending it’s functional, but as I stalk toward the elevator in the underground parking garage of the Tower, I’m hit with a sudden stab of pain in my temple that nearly takes me to my knees.
I can’t go on like this.
There’s something very, very wrong with me, and if I don’t find some way to get ahead of it, everything I have will be in jeopardy.
The pack Commander can’t be caught showing signs of weakness.
The other enforcers will pick up on it instantly, smell the blood in the water, and immediately start campaigning to become my replacement.
Not a fucking chance. I’ve worked too hard; sacrificed too much. I won’t let something as foolish as pride be my downfall.
So, when I step into the elevator, I don’t hit the button for the thirty-second floor and proceed to my office as normal. I punch the button for the fortieth– the medical floor.
The throbbing pain in my skull only increases as the elevator ascends, the numbers on the panel climbing.
I steady myself with one hand on the wall, sinking the other in my hair and tugging.
There better be some medical explanation for whatever affliction has taken root inside me. And there’d better be a damn cure.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, the smell of disinfectant hitting me instantly as I step into the gleaming white lobby.
I typically try to steer clear of this floor of the Tower if I can help it.
The sterility of this place hurts to look at– pale polished tile underfoot, white walls scrubbed clean.
The only thing adorning them is a large wall-mounted screen that rotates through curated stock photos of tranquil forests, the scenes meant to be soothing.
They’re not.
The receptionist glances up from behind her desk, eyes widening when they meet mine. She immediately straightens, lips parting on a little gasp of surprise.
“Good morning, Commander Kane,” she breathes, voice pitched just a bit too high. “I didn’t have you on the books today, are you here for–”
“I need to see Dr. Aspen,” I growl, shoving my hands deep into my pockets as I stalk toward her desk.
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.
Dr. Aspen is the last person I’d choose to break down in front of, yet here I am, hanging on by a fucking thread.
He’s probably loving this. The sick bastard derived a great deal of joy from administering the shocks required to bring my wolf forward for the extraction procedure.
I could see it in his face, clear as day. He enjoyed causing me pain.
The door swings open, a petite blonde entering the room pushing a small tray cart. She’s young and visibly nervous, her hands shaking as she parks the cart beside the exam table and starts lining up supplies.
“G-good morning, Commander,” she stammers, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves. “Do you have a preference of which arm, or…”
I shake my head, pushing up the sleeve of the arm closest to her and offering her my vein.
I barely register the squeeze of the tourniquet or the jab of the needle. My skull is still pounding so hard I can barely even think.
She takes three vials, then removes the needle, dabbing a droplet of blood away with a cotton ball. The small wound seals quickly, so at least my shifter healing is still intact.
“Thank you, Becca,” Dr. Aspen murmurs, tipping his head to her as she packs up and exits the room. Once the door closes behind her, he rolls his stool back over and leans in, dropping the bedside manner.
“I just went over some statistics, and this is highly irregular,” he says, a sharp edge of concern lacing his tone. “The mate bond should strengthen your wolf. If anything, you should feel more stable than ever.”
“Tell that to the beast clawing its way up my spine twenty-four-seven,” I scoff.
He considers me for a moment, brow creasing. “How does your wolf respond to her? To your mate?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to talk about Violet– not to anyone, and especially not this guy. But then I catch a flicker of something in his eyes. Something that tells me he may know more than he’s letting on.
“She makes it worse,” I say finally, voice rough. “Every time she’s near me, my wolf loses his shit. So, I’ve been keeping my distance.”
Aspen’s lips twitch. He looks down at his notes, clearly weighing whether to say whatever’s on the tip of his tongue. When he glances up, he’s schooled his expression into a professional mask once more.
“Commander,” he starts, voice low. “Has it occurred to you that this might be a case of true fated mate bonding?”
I stare back at him blankly. “Fated mates are a myth.”