“They’re worried about the jackals trying something,” she told her.
“Hmm.” Candy chewed on her food thoughtfully before swallowing. “I think your gargoyle has something else on his mind.”
They were finishing up when they heard footsteps in the hallway. It looked like someone else couldn’t sleep.
Madam Belle entered, a silk kimono wrapped around her slender curves. Her pale dainty feet were bare. Eyeing the two women with a look that clearly stated it was far too early to be up, she sauntered toward the coffee maker.
“Good. You’re awake. I’ve managed to get you an appointment with Amos’s therapist. He had a cancellation and can fit you in this afternoon at one. We’ll need to leave at a quarter after twelve. There’ll be intake forms to fill out. Medical history and all that.”
The cup Rory had been bringing to her lips paused before it reached her mouth. “Wow, that was fast. It’s kind of you, but I don’t need . . .”
Turning sharply, the Fae pinned her with an intense stare. “You’re going. And no arguments. Anyone who’s been through what you did needs the tools to deal with it. Better to go and not need it than need it and not go. And where you’re having trouble staying awake, I’m going to drive you. You can get behind the wheel when Doc says it’s safe and not before.”
Rory shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight of Belle’s gaze. She’d essentially grounded her from driving Bee without a doctor’s clearance. “Okay, okay, I’ll go.”
Her employer’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good. Candy, if anyone needs me, you all have my mobile number. Try and stay out of trouble while we’re gone.”
“We’ll be good,” Candy promised.
Taking her mug of coffee with her, Belle left them to go and get dressed. Rory helped her friend clean up, washing the dishes and cutlery before putting them away.
“Well, I’m heading back to bed.” Candy yawned. “I’ll see you this evening.”
With nothing else to do, Rory returned to her room, changed into street clothes, and pulled on a pair of sneakers.
Madam Belle met her at the top of the stairs. Rory felt underdressed in her jeans and t-shirt. The other woman was wearing a stylish blue dress. With a pair of dark glasses perched on the end of her nose, she looked like a film star.
Checking the time on her phone, her employer clucked her tongue. “Come along. I don’t like being late for appointments.”
A thirty-minute drive later, they pulled into the entrance of a large, gated estate bordered by multi-million dollar houses. Glimpsed from the road, Dr. Richard Steele’s sprawling Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired home was a private haven amidst upscale suburban sprawl.
Belle entered the passcode he’d provided and drove up the paved circle drive, parking near the separate side entrance to his home office.
Even in November, it was too warm to sit in the car. Belle accompanied her inside and took a seat in the waiting room. Dr. Steele’s receptionist greeted Rory and handed her a clipboard of forms. It was so weird being called by her legal name. Belle knew it, of course. She signed her paychecks. But to the rest of the world—and Quake—she was Magenta.
Handing back the completed forms with signed releases, insurance information, and medical history, Rory’s inner maned wolf started sniffing. If she didn’t know better, the receptionist was a shifter. A feline of some kind, she guessed, otherwise her maned wolf wouldn’t be half as interested.
It loved a good chase now and then.
Kendra—her nametag read—smiled brightly. “Dr. Steele will see you now. Follow me, please.”
A short hall led to his office door. Kendra rapped on it and announced his new patient.
“Come in,” he intoned, his voice a rich baritone that struck the right chords for someone in need of support or guidance.
Kendra opened the door, letting Rory follow her in. She set the folder on the doctor’s desk and turned to leave, letting Rory get her first good look at the psychiatrist.
“Papa Rick?” she whispered. “Oh, my god.”
Dr. Richard Steele—Papa Rick when he visited The Pole Barn—was just as surprised to see her. A poster boy for tall, dark, and handsome, he had the most remarkable blue agate eyes, animal magnetism in spades, and a secret spanking fetish. “Magenta?”
She felt a wave of vertigo hit her. Reaching for the nearest chair, she sank into it, weaving in her seat like a drunken sailor. “Dizzy spell,” she explained. “I’ve been having them since I was rescued. I don’t know if Madam Belle told you, but it’s been a rough past few days.”
“Christ.” Muttered under his breath, the single word spoke volumes. He knew more than she’d realized, but he didn’t know everything.
No one did.
A shudder wracked her frame, and tears stung her eyes. Closing them, she slapped her fingers over her eyelids and pressed, trying to stem the tide but unable to stop the single tear that escaped to track down her cheek.
Dr. Steele punched a button on his phone. “Kendra, reschedule my next appointment, please. And let Ms. Fleur know that we may be a while.”
Rory’s hackles were raised. Surely he wasn’t going to expect her to fuck him as part of her therapy session.
“You have vertigo, young lady,” he said firmly, reading the look on her face and her body language. “I’m going to get you a glass of water and check your blood sugar. We need to find out what’s going on.”
Dr. Steele rose from behind his desk, unfolding his frame to stand at his imposing six-feet, five-inch height. She’d never been afraid of him at The Pole Barn. She shouldn’t be now. But she was on edge from her experience. Wary of men in general, even ones she’d never had reason to mistrust. Her hackles raised, her inner maned wolf sensing a threat.
Black spots danced before her eyes, affecting her vision, making it look as if her forearms darkened and her claws came out. She gripped the
