Prisoner Not Patient

*Rowan*

I’m in my room pacing. It’s the middle of the night, but I can’t sleep. I received word from the most recent spy I sent into Castle Darksky, and it wasn’t the information I was hoping for. I’ve been up pacing for at least a couple of hours now.
That’s when I hear the first muffled screams.
It’s not a sound I’m used to. Howling? Absolutely. Giggling? Well, my room is rather close to Dean’s, so I do hear him taking the flavor of the month to bed some nights. Thankfully, my room isn’t close enough to hear any more than that coming from in there.
But this? This is different.
I step out into the hall, running a hand across my bare chest and adjusting the waistband of my pajama pants. It’s louder here, and it sounds like someone is in distress.
It’s the girl. It has to be.
I can’t make out much of what she’s saying, but I think I understand the words “no” and “help” a few times as she moans and cries.
Instinctively, I head down the hallway toward her room. She’s my mate, after all, and my wolf knows that even better than my human mind can comprehend. If she’s in pain, in any trouble at all, my instincts are to protect her.
Which is a little ironic considering why I sent for this girl to begin with.
Nevertheless, I am in protection mode as I march down the hallway, ready to do whatever needs to be done to make her comfortable again. I can’t destroy her dreams the way I could an enemy wolf, but I can do something–anything–to make her cries stop.
Outside of her door, I practically run into James, who is hurrying there from the other direction. Unlike me, he had the good sense to put on a robe. “I’ve got it,” he says to me in a hushed voice. “She’s just having a bad dream.”
“I’ll handle it.” When I speak, it’s in my Alpha voice, a tone he can’t possibly ignore.
His eyes widen. “But Rowan, she’s my patient.”
I fight the urge to growl at him, and he steps aside. My hand clamps down on the doorknob. It’s locked, of course, and I don’t have the key with me. I could bust it down….
James unlocks the door for me. “Just gently wake her up. She should fall back to sleep pretty quickly.”
I grunt my understanding and enter the room, closing the door behind me.
Moonlight filters through the window. She hasn’t closed the blinds. Even though it’s not nearly a full moon and won’t be for two more weeks, thank the Goddess, she’s still illuminated in silvery beams of light. She lays on the bed, thrashing around, still crying out.
I wonder if James is still standing in the hallway. I smell him, but then, I can tell he’s been in the room recently. Jealousy clouds my mind as I walk over to her.
Hezzlie has kicked off most of her blankets. A thin white sheet covers her body as she twists and turns. She’s wearing a tanktop and sleep shorts that hug her thin hips and thighs. She’s breathing so heavily, the peaks of her breasts emerge from the top of her shirt with every exhale. She doesn’t have much up there at the moment, she’s so thin, but I can see her hardened nipples through the flimsy fabric.
With a deep breath, I remind myself that I cannot grow attached to this girl–this woman–no matter how badly my wolf wants me to.
“Hezzlie!” It’s a harsh whisper. “Wake up!”
“No!” she moans, not in defiance but still caught up in her dream. “Wh-where do I go? Wh-which way?”
“I can understand her better this close to her. I try again. “Hezzlie!” When she continues to thrash, I sink down on the edge of the bed, wishing I would’ve left this to James after all.
But then, he’d be the one seeing her arch her back and suck in air like she is in the throes of passion rather than having a horrible dream.
I take her by the wrists, intending to be gentle, but she bucks up again. “Hezzlie, open your eyes. It’s just a dream,” I coax.
She starts to come around a little. Her movements are smaller now that I have a grip on her. “Please… my wolf,” she murmurs.
“Hezzlie? Open your eyes.” I lean over her, and she sits up at almost the same time so that her trembling lips are only a few inches from mine, but her eyes are closed tight.
“Rowan. Mmmm….”
The way she moans after she whispers my name has my cock twitching in my pants. She throws her head back, her long dark hair, silky smooth now, cascading down her back.
I try again. “Open your eyes, Hezzlie. Wake up.”
This time, her eyelids flutter a bit. Her head rolls back forward, and her mouth is so close to mine, I can practically taste those strawberry-colored lips.
It’s like she wants me to kiss her.
I release her and pull back. She doesn’t want me to kiss her–she’s asleep.
When her hands hit the mattress, her eyes open fully, and she is staring at me. I dart to my feet and take a deep breath. She blinks a few times, confused.
“You were having a bad dream,” I tell her, all business now. “You’re fine. Go back to sleep.”
She reaches up and runs a hand through her hair. “Wh-where’s James?”
I can’t stop the growl that rips through me. “Dr. Bolton is in his room,” I correct her. How dare my mate use another man’s name while she’s lying in bed looking like someone just fucked her mindless?
“Oh. He… usually takes notes.”
“Well, this is not a fucking hospital,” I tell her, turning to head for the door. “Now, shut the hell up before you wake up everyone in the whole Goddessdamn house!” I slam the door so hard it shakes in the door jamb.
James is not in his bed. He’s standing in the hallway with his arms folded, looking at me like I am the worst person in the world. “She’s fine,” I tell him.
“I seriously doubt that. Next time, why don’t you allow me to–”
“Fuck off, Dr. Bolton,” I tell him, and it’s not a suggestion. It’s an order. He knows if he goes in there, I’ll lose my shit, and while I’ve never actually hurt him or any of my friends in a fit of rage, there is a first time for everything.
He curses under his breath and goes back to bed. We both know she won’t have any more nightmares tonight.
I return to my room and sink down on the edge of the bed, breathing as deeply as I can. My dick is still semi-hard, and the urge to rip my pants off and take care of it myself is overwhelming. But I won’t.
I can’t give Hezzlie Stone that kind of power over me.
She’s not a patient here. She’s a prisoner. And she won’t be here long, if I have any say in it–which I do. No, the faster I can get her out of here and get Mara back, the better.
If I was a smart man, I would let James handle these midnight nightmares from here on out. But the vision of her writhing around in her pajamas with streaks of moonlight illuminating her body is enough to make me want to ban any other man from ever entering that room again.
I drop back onto my pillow, swearing under my breath. This should’ve been easy. The fact that she is my mate complicates the situation, but it can’t change anything. She belongs in Darksky, and Mara belongs here–in her home–with me.
“Fuck you, Hezzlie Stone,” I murmur.
And that’s the problem–I wish I could.