Page 39 of Saving Her Dragon

Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, Garrett laid out exactly what Han had just told him. He made sure to keep the explanation quiet and clinical. He went in precise, chronological order: the block, the missing dream, the phantom sensation of freezing air.

Sydney sat straight up, the sheets pooling around her waist as the remaining fog of sleep instantly evaporated from her face. Within her soul, the shift was instantaneous. Kara woke up. The Dragon Queen didn't offer any dry humor or light sibling banter. She was not her usual playful self. Her presence flared behind Sydney's eyes with absolute, unblinking alertness.

“Han,” Kara’s voice echoed directly into the shared draconic channel, sharp and demanding. “Cold like weather? A storm on the ridge?”

Han’s response was slow, weighted with centuries of experience. “No.”

“Like Magic?” Kara pushed. “Like the frost of a rogue intruder?”

A long, agonizing pause stretched through the quiet room. With every passing second, Garrett grew a little more anxious. Then the Dragon King spoke, and he didn’t feel any better.

“I don't know,” Han whispered.

Nobody had an answer. The mystery refused to give up its secrets, remaining just out of reach, a maddening splinter in the dark.

Throwing back the covers, Garrett swung his legs out of bed. His boots were clean, the deadbolt downstairs was locked, and the security camera was still humming silently in the corner, but he didn't care about the physical baseline anymore. He walked over to the desk by the window, pulled open the drawer, and dragged the leather-bound notebook into the pale silver light of the window.

He didn't trust his own memory enough not to document everything that had just come to light. Uncapping the pen, he pressed the tip firmly into the clean white page, building his evidence file:

Han dreamed. Blocked. Cannot reach memory. Sensation: Impossibly cold. Timestamp 3:42 AM? Unknown.

He closed the book with a definitive snap, staring out into the dark night sky. He was collecting the data, building the parameters of the problem piece by piece. But as he looked down at his own handwriting, a heavy, suffocating certainty settled over his shoulders.

The expert was arriving at sunrise. Dr Darcy Thorntree was a certified genius, one of the legendary Thorntree Luna Timberwolves, and an elite physician. She was coming to examine his mind, and Garrett already knew, with absolute tactical certainty, that he was going to categorically hate being treated like a broken patient again.

Sitting at the island with a mug in his hand, Garrett prepared for the doctor’s arrival. He was thinking she would be clinical, soft-spoken, and carefully sympathetic.

And he could not have been more wrong…

Sydney had warned him Darcy Thorntree wasn't anyone's idea of a soft-spoken country doctor. Raised by Cheveyo after losing her parents in a Hunter attack, she'd grown into one of the formidable Thorntree Luna Timberwolves– and an elite physician with the Magical sensitivity necessary to treat Others. It made her uniquely qualified to examine a Guardsman whose mind, Magic, and soul were permanently Bonded to an Ancient Dragon King.

"Which one of you is the idiot refusing to sleep?" she demanded without a single note of introduction.

Garrett didn't hesitate. He raised his hand and pointed straight at Grey.

"Him," Sydney countered immediately, pointing right back at Garrett.

Garrett cut his eyes to his Mate. "Traitor."

A microscopic smirk touched the corner of Darcy’s mouth as she set her bag on the island with a heavy clack. Instantly, Garrett liked her slightly more. Just slightly. At least she wasn't treating him like a fragile, broken victim.

Garrett wasn't merely a man with neurological trauma; he was a man with Magical abilities who was structurally bonded to a Dragon King. Therefore, Darcy was uniquely qualified to dissect the intersection of neurological damage, deep-sleep disorders, and the complicated physiology of a Man-Dragon King Bond.

"Alright, everyone who isn't the patient or the Mate, clear out," Darcy commanded, pulling a heavy silver penlight from her pocket.

Grey opened his mouth to argue, but Darcy leveled him with a deadpan stare. "Go play with your chicken coops, Dude. I'm working."

Grey choked on a laugh, throwing his hands up as he and Carrick retreated to the porch. Sydney slid into a chair at the island, watching with absolute fascination. She already loved Darcy.

“Before you leave, you’re gonna have to teach me how to do that,” Syd chuckled.

“Gotcha covered, Sister.” With a nod, Darcy added, “Now, let me see what’s up with your Mate.”

The examination was thorough, methodical, and entirely devoid of comforting bedside manner. Garrett sat on a stool, forcing his jaw to remain unclenched as Darcy checked his reflexes, tracked his pupils with the sharp beam of her light, and tested his motor control.

Then came the cognitive processing tests, and Garrett hated every single second of it. He tried not to grind his teeth, but failed miserably and decided to give up before he broke a tooth.

"Three words," Darcy said flatly, tapping a tuning fork against her palm and placing it near his ear. "Apple. Candle. River. Repeat them."