Page 27 of Pistols & Peonies

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.”

He shakes his head with a thin smile. “Not a myth, just exceedingly rare these days. I’ve never had the opportunity to study the biology firsthand, but from what I gather, the difference between a chosen and fated bond is like the difference between a placebo and an opiate. Chosen mate bonds take time to fully root after they’re sealed, while fated mate bonds are so powerful that they lock in immediately.”

I want to tell him to fuck off, but a tiny, poisoned seed of doubt starts to sprout in my chest. The way my wolf reacts to Violet… he’s never reacted that way to anyone. Even before the damn Pairing that sealed our fate.

Something in my expression must give me away, because Dr. Aspen suddenly leans in closer, eyes bright with interest. “I’d like to run a genome map on both you and your mate. There may be biological markers for this sort of thing, something identifiable that could be studied. I could confirm the theory within a week.”

My wolf rises up with a feral snarl of protectiveness.

“Absolutely not,” I snap, the words dropping like a stone between us. “Leave her out of this.”

He regards me cautiously, his disappointment clearly visible before he wipes it away and schools his expression again. “Understood. If you change your mind, I’d be happy to re-open the discussion. And in the meantime, you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring the possibility. Perhaps if you spent some time together, maybe let your wolves run…”

“Just fix it,” I growl. “Whatever’s wrong with me, I want it gone.”

He stands, moving to a small refrigerator on the opposite side of the room. “I’m going to give you a high-dose vitamin supplement,” he says as he removes a couple of glass vials and pulls syringes from a drawer. “And a short course steroid. It should help with your symptoms, but it’s a bandage, not a cure.”

“Do it,” I reply gruffly.

He nods, drawing up the first shot and approaching me with caution. I don’t even feel the poke. He moves quickly and efficiently, administering both injections and tossing the used syringes in the bin.

“You need to get some rest, Commander,” he says, leveling his gaze on me. “Take some time off, if you can. I’ll call when the results of your panel come back, but in the meantime, consider what I said about your mate. And if the situation grows dire, there’s always wolfsbane.”

I suppress a shudder at that suggestion, pushing up to my feet and starting for the door. “Thanks, doc,” I toss over my shoulder as I pull it open and step into the hall, my phone buzzing in my pocket.

I slip it out as I stride toward the lobby, finding a push notification from the pack comms channel flashing on my screen. I quickly open it, expecting a briefing or an alert, but it’s just a message from Alpha containing a link.

As soon as I click it, I wish I hadn’t. I slam to a stop as a headline flashes across my screen: Commander Kane Paired With Striking Young Mate!

The text that follows is a ridiculous puff piece about the ‘unforgettable’ ceremony that ended in ‘love, laughter, and happily ever after’. If my head wasn’t pounding before, it sure as fuck is now. Alpha’s PR team has outdone themselves with this one, framing the whole thing as some kind of fairytale.