Page 68 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“Yes.”

Her anger was quieter now, and worse for it.

I leaned forward, stopping before I reached the edge of the bed. “My wolf believes the bite made a claim. I do not know if the claim can last in human blood. I do not know if what he feels is truth, instinct, or the rite twisting around a mistake. I know you didn’t choose it.”

“That does not answer dream bleed.”

“No,” I said. “It does not.”

She swallowed. “So if I sleep, you might get inside my head.”

I forced myself to hold Cassie’s gaze.

“I might,” I said. “Or you might get inside mine. Or nothing may happen.”

Her face tightened, and I heard her pulse climb.

“Great,” she whispered. “Even unconscious, I don’t get privacy.”

The words entered me and stayed there. I had no defense.

Ronan spoke from the door. “Sava can sedate you deeply enough to reduce dreaming.”

Sava’s expression didn’t change, but I smelled her irritation. “Possibly.”

“Do it,” I said.

Cassie looked at me. “I didn’t ask you.”

I shut my mouth. She was right…again.

Sava stepped into her line of sight. “I can increase the sedative. It may help you sleep without surfacing into dreams. It may also make you more disoriented when you wake. Your body is already fighting hard.”

Cassie closed her eyes. “How much worse does disoriented get from waking up in werewolf jail?”

Sava waited.

Cassie opened her eyes again and looked at the doctor. “Do it.”

Sava nodded.

I moved back from the bed while she prepared the syringe. Distance hurt. Not in my body. Somewhere lower and older, where the wolf kept the new shape of the world and punished the man for stepping away from it.

Cassie watched Sava inject the medication into the line. Then she turned her head toward me.

“If I see anything in your head,” she whispered, “I’m judging your decorating.”

The words should have been light. They were not. They were a woman building one last thin wall around herself before sleep stole the tools from her hands.

“I would expect nothing less,” I said.

Her eyes drifted shut.

For a while, no one moved. We watched the sedative pull her under. Her breathing steadied. The mark darkened, then settled. The monitor slowed into a rhythm that didn’t sound safe, but sounded less like the edge of death.

Ronan waited until she was fully asleep before he spoke. “You gave her more truth than I allowed.”

“I gave her less than she deserved.”