Page 39 of Patrick’s Seduction

Apparently, taking a shower after leaving Fallon’s bed hadn’t been sufficient.

“It’s none of your business!” Patrick ground out.

“It is when you’re painting a target on yourself and on Scanguards. The moment Cameron figures out that you’re sleeping with his girlfriend—”

“Ex-girlfriend!” he corrected his colleague.

Amaury scoffed. “As if that’ll make a difference. He’ll come after you. He’ll come after all of us. And I don’t particularly want a pack of werewolves gunning for our necks. You don’t know what I know. Trust me, werewolves are uncontrollable, and a jilted lover is just like a wounded animal: more dangerous than anybody else.”

“That’s exactly why we have to nail Cameron for what he’s done. As long as he’s out there, he’ll kill other innocents.” And the next one might be Fallon. But he wasn’t going to voice his concern in Amaury’s presence.

“Well, then you’d better find some evidence!”

“I intend to.” And he wouldn’t rest until Cameron had been dealt with and was out of Fallon’s life. Out of all their lives.

19

Fallon tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. After the very satisfying sex with Patrick, she should have fallen into a deep sleep, yet sleep eluded her. Maybe it was the unfamiliar house, or the strange bed—Patrick’s, not the one in the guestroom—but something wouldn’t let her find the rest she craved. There were so many different sounds that drifted to her: the cars passing by the street in front of the house, as well as the creaking of wooden floorboards in the house itself. They had to be coming from Lydia, who was on the first floor, awake, watching over her.

After Patrick had left the house, Fallon had dressed in jogging pants and a T-shirt and quickly gone downstairs to get some water and a yogurt. She’d thanked Lydia for having gone food shopping, before going back upstairs and following Patrick’s invitation to sleep in his room.

The thought that he’d join her in bed when he was done with work pleased her, although she didn’t understand why she was jumping head over heels into a new relationship. After her experience with Cameron, it would be smarter not to date anyone for a while, but there was something so comforting and right about being with Patrick. He was gentle and considerate, despite the confidence with which he carried himself, and the responsibilities on his shoulders. Men in his position—and with his good looks—often displayed a certain amount of arrogance and entitlement, yet both personality traits seemed to be absent in him. Or was he just better at hiding them?

Her head was spinning now, not just from the thoughts going through her mind, but also from the sounds that seemed to get louder with every minute. She was getting a headache, and perspiration started to engulf her, drenching her to the point where the T-shirt she slept in clung to her breasts and back.

She tossed the thin duvet off her body, trying to find relief from the heat, but she found none. She felt feverish. It was as if her body was burning up from inside. Was she coming down with something?

She sat up and swung her legs out of bed, setting her bare feet on the cool wooden floor. For a moment, she felt a semblance of relief, but it didn’t last long. Her entire body began to ache now, not just her head, but everything: her skin itched as if she’d fallen into poison ivy. She switched on the bedside lamp, and the light fairly blinded her despite the dark lampshade that should have only thrown a soft glow on her surroundings. Instead, the small light source illuminated the room as if she were in a lab with harsh industrial lights. For a moment, she had to close her eyes to stop them from hurting. When she opened them again and started to get used to the light, she examined her skin, but despite her skin itching, she found no hives, no red patches. The little hairs on her arms rose, adding to the prickling sensation. Something was wrong.

Had she come into contact with chemicals during the attack in her lab to which she now showed an allergic reaction? Or worse, had she been infected with anything in the hospital? She knew—better than anybody—that hospitals were breeding grounds for superbugs, and any of those bacteria could have entered her bloodstream via the cuts and abrasions she’d sustained during the attack.

She remembered the antibiotics she’d started right after returning home from the hospital. They should help, but what if whatever she’d caught was resistant to antibiotics?

Knowing she had to do something, she stood up, wrapped herself in her bathrobe, and left the room. When the door shut behind her, it made a deafening noise as if she’d slammed it, even though she hadn’t. Downstairs, she found Lydia sitting in the living room, reading. She looked up.

“Can’t sleep?”

The sound of Lydia’s voice sent a ringing through her ears, startling her. Instinctively, she put her hands over her ears, drowning out the noise.

“Something is wrong.” Her own voice sounded different, too shrill and too loud.

Lydia shot up from the sofa, and the sound of her shoes tapping on the wooden floor reminded her of a loud knocking on a door.

“You don’t look too good,” Lydia said, approaching.

“My head hurts, everything is so loud… I’m hot…I think I got infected with something…” She felt her heart pounding in her chest, and her Apple Watch beeped, indicating that her heart rate was spiking.

She glanced at it and had trouble focusing her eyes on the display, until she was finally able to read the numbers: 156bpm. She rarely ever reached that heart rate even when sprinting on the treadmill or running up the stairs.

Trying to calm herself, she pressed her hand to her chest and felt the reverberations of her heart drumming against her palm.

Was she having a heart attack?

“I need a doctor…” she pressed out.

But the thought of returning to the hospital, where she didn’t feel safe, scared her. “Not UCSF.”

Lydia was already tapping something on her phone, before pressing it to her ear. “Patrick? Fallon isn’t well. I’m bringing her in.”