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It’s a testament to her anxiety that she doesn’t.
But my wolf and I need this contact, too.
“Where do we go?” I ask, trying to distract her, but she doesn’t answer as she directs me through the hallway.
We come to a stop outside door seven, and I squeeze Maia’s hand before letting go so I can open it.
But the moment I do, my senses are overwhelmed with something that should not be here.
A strong, pungent smell that makes my nose itch.
“Intruder!” Orion roars in my mind. “Wolf! Rogue Wolf! Rogue Wolf!”
I turn and gently place Phoebe in Maia’s arms and shove the bag towards her before letting out a very loud growl that has the doctor inside put on notice.
His head snaps up, the slimy scent of his strengthening as he recognises who I am, and I bare my teeth as I charge into the room.
The door slams behind me, and I pray like hell that Maia runs.
16
MAIA
The door slams in front of me, and I nearly buckle under the weight of my tiny baby. My heart is pounding, my legs are shaking, and I don’t even understand what has just gone down.
Topher growled low in his throat before shutting a door with a doctor.
A doctor who has made me ill, and his vibes are creepy and uncomfortable.
A man who makes me feel like ants are crawling all over my skin.
Is he a werewolf, too? Is that what Topher sensed? But if that’s the case… why is he so mad? They explained a week ago about how the only wolves in this area belong to their pack.
Is he just lecturing Dr Thomas for scaring me ? For not telling their alphas about Phoebe being a wolf?
The unknown is terrifying me.
I’m terrified.
But I take a deep breath and try my hardest to compartmentalise. I can’t let this tsunami of anxiety overpower me when I’m alone with Phoebe in a potentially dangerous situation.
The soundproofing has cut off anything that I could see or hear in the room, but I know that something is going down.
I just don’t know what to do.
Do I leave? Do I hide? Do I run?
Should I wait in the waiting room? The car?
My hands are trembling, and I’ve got a tight grip on Phoebe. Her grey eyes are wide as she watches me, and I hate that she can sense my anxiety.
“I love you,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to Phoebe’s head before turning on my tail and fleeing the corridor. The receptionist glances over at me, and rather than try and explain, I rush into the feeding room instead.
I don’t have his car keys on me, and I don’t know if they’re in the bag or not. I don’t know what I’m meant to do.
The room is thankfully empty, and I nestle in on the very large and comfortable chair, praying that nobody will enter. I cuddle Phoebe into my chest as I let out a long, shaky breath.
A few seconds turn into minutes as I try to calm my racing heartbeat and soothe my daughter at the same time. My anxiety is still there, simmering away slowly, as I try to figure out what I should do.
