Page 31 of Bite for Sore Eyes

Emry kept pace beside them, her sharp eyes already assessing Lana's condition with clinical precision. "Did she lose consciousness? Any nausea or vision changes?"

Torren carried Lana into the treatment room and gently lowered her onto the examination bed, his hands reluctant to break contact even though she was now in capable hands. The sterile scent of medical equipment mixed with the lingering copper of blood, creating an atmosphere that made his bear pace.

"I'm fine, really," Lana said, attempting a smile that didn't quite mask the pain in her eyes. "It's just a bump."

"No," Rath said sharply, moving to her side with protective intensity. "You are not fine."

He turned to address Kelly and Emry directly, his tone carrying the weight of absolute command. "She needs a head scan to make sure there's no internal bleeding or concussion."

"Of course," Kelly replied with the calm competence of someone who'd dealt with worried family members countless times. "We were going to suggest that, but first we need to treat the wound properly."

Torren studied the gash on Lana's scalp as Emry examined it with gentle fingers. "Do you think she needs stitches?"

"No, it's not deep enough," Emry said after a moment, her voice carrying professional reassurance. "But you're absolutely right about the scan. Head injuries can be deceptive."

Lana moved uncomfortably on the examination bed, and through the mate bond, Torren felt her unease spike—not from pain, but from the familiar dread of being back in a medical setting. The antiseptic smell, the clinical efficiency, the way everyone spoke about her condition while she lay there passive and vulnerable.

She hates this, he realized. Being the patient instead of the person solving problems.

Emry moved to begin cleaning the wound while Kelly headed toward the door. "I'll go order that scan and be right back."

Rath immediately claimed Lana's right hand, his fingers intertwining with hers in a gesture of comfort and connection. Torren took her left hand without thinking, both Alphas instinctively flanking their mate while giving Emry space to work. The warmth of her skin against his palm helped settle his bear's agitation, the physical contact confirming that she was alive and safe despite the injury.

"I shouldn't have rushed off to the bathroom without telling you two I was having an episode," Lana said quietly, her voice carrying a note of self-recrimination that made Torren's chest tight.

Emry paused in her work, her hazel eyes sharpening with professional curiosity. "Episode? What kind of episode?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Torren felt the tension in the room ratchet up several degrees. Through their joined hands, he could sense Lana's internal struggle—the war between her desire for privacy and the growing weight of secrets that were becoming harder to carry alone.

Lana drew a shuddering breath, her brown eyes meeting Emry's hazel ones with resignation that made Torren's chest ache. "I have a rare neurological illness called progressive neural synchronization disorder. It gives me random episodes where my brain misfires and causes symptoms—usually just frustrating ones like today. My vision blurred, my hands started tingling, and then my feet completely lost all feeling. That's when I fell in the bathroom and hit my head on the sink."

Emry's hands stilled for a moment, her expression shifting from professional concern to something deeper—genuine empathy mixed with clinical curiosity. "Are you being treated for that?"

Torren felt Lana's frustration and resignation flood through their mate bond with crushing intensity. Her shoulders sagged as though the weight of two years' worth of failed treatments had settled on them all at once.

"There is no treatment that works and no known cure," Lana said, her voice hollow with defeat. "I only have about a year to live before my brain misfires so catastrophically it stops my body's autonomic functions."

Rath went pale beside the examination bed, his green eyes reflecting the same grief and fury that clawed at Torren's chest. Torren felt utterly helpless—the crushing realization that all his strength, all his resources, all his determination meant nothing against an enemy he couldn't see or fight.

We promised her we wouldn't make her days about hospitals and treatments, Torren thought desperately. And here we are, in exactly the place she didn't want to be.

The irony wasn't lost on him. They'd sworn to give her adventure and freedom, yet the first crisis had landed them in a medical facility with their mate surrounded by the clinical atmosphere she'd traveled across the galaxy to escape. His bear snarled with frustration at the impossible situation—logically, they were here to treat her head injury, but emotionally, this felt like the first step toward breaking their word.

Emry finished securing the bandage, her movements thoughtful rather than rushed. "If you don't mind, could I do a few tests? Nothing too invasive—just some bloodwork, and the head scan that we were already planning to do for the head trauma."

Lana's expression shifted to that of a woman who'd heard similar requests countless times over two years of medical consultations. The weary recognition in her brown eyes made Torren want to gather her against his chest and shield her from every needle, every scan, and every well-meaning physician who saw her condition before seeing her.

She's been through this so many times, he realized with growing frustration at himself. And we're putting her through exactly what she didn't want to face here.

Before Lana could respond, Rath's voice cut through the tension with protective intensity. "Lana, you don't have to. We can just leave and not even do the head scan."

Torren squeezed her hand, his eyes meeting hers with complete sincerity. "Yes, we don't have to draw this out. We can go back home, and you can rest."

The silence stretched between them as Lana considered their words, her gaze moving from Rath's fierce protectiveness to Torren's gentle support. Finally, she straightened her shoulders with the quiet determination he'd come to recognize as her signature strength.

"No, I'll stay." She looked directly at Emry, her voice gaining conviction. "Yes, you can do the bloodwork and head scan."

Emry's smile was soft and genuinely reassuring. "Great. This won't be too bad, I promise. You'll be out of here in no time."