The last thing she remembered was a slow-motion slide to the floor.
16
“Hey.”
Rory cracked open her eyes and tried to rub them . . . only to find her hands and feet were bound to the king-sized bed she was lying on.
“What the fuck?” Blinking her eyes to clear her vision, she glared at the psychiatrist she’d mistakenly placed her trust in. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
Dr. Steele stayed where he was, deeming it safer to deal with her from a distance. “Calm down, Miss Lockheart, or you might trigger another episode.”
“Episode?” she spat. “Is that what you call it when someone objects to bondage against their will?”
“No,” he said smoothly. “It’s what I call a traumatized woman who starts shifting uncontrollably and attacks me, her boss, and my receptionist.”
What?
Rory stared at him. She wanted to call him a liar, but he was dead serious. According to him, she had transformed into her animal form and didn’t remember doing so. She’d attacked people. Why? How?
“It was either restrain you or drug you,” he explained. “I chose restraints. Although drugs would have been easier.” Reaching into a waste bin, he pulled out the remnants of a bloodied, shredded shirt and offered a bemused grin. “Either way, my suit and shirt were already ruined.”
Rory’s gaze followed his hand. “Oh, my God. I did that?”
Dr. Steele nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m already healing.”
He was already healing. He wasn’t freaking out about what he’d seen, and he’d been able to overpower her wolf.
Well, fuck. As long as she’d known him, she’d been missing the obvious. “You’re a shifter.” Raising her eyes, she met his watchful gaze.
“Yes,” he confirmed softly. “I don’t know what triggered you but we will get to the bottom of it together. You’ve been through a very traumatic event.”
That was an understatement. They’d fucked up her mind when they’d fucked up her body. Her head was a mess right now. “Where am I?” Rory questioned, anxiety tightening her chest.
“A spare bedroom. My office is part of my home but you’re the first patient to see where I live. You’re safe,” he assured her. “It was the only place where I could make you comfortable and monitor your condition.”
“I’d like to get up.” Twisting her wrists, she tested the strength of his restraints.
Giving her a long, considering look, Dr. Steele moved to the end of the bed and removed her ankle cuffs. “Let’s take things slowly. If you feel strange or unwell, you must tell me immediately.”
“Sure, Doc,” Rory agreed happily when he set her wrists free.
“Richard,” he corrected. “May I call you Rory? It will make things a little less formal, and I suspect it will help you relax around me.”
“Okay.” Sitting up, she rubbed her wrists. “Tell me. Did I hurt anyone else?”
He must have noted the worry in her tone because he smiled. “No, you just gave us a scare, that’s all.”
“Was it a full shift?” Rory questioned, desperate to know what she could not remember.
“No, you were in transition between human and animal form. Fur and claws but still bipedal. Stunning, actually. You’re a rare breed.”
Heat scorched her cheeks in a blush. She scooted her legs to the edge of the bed. “How long have I been out?”
She looked for a clock but saw nothing that could give her an answer.
“About an hour,” he told her. “You lost consciousness when I finally pinned you down.”
An hour.
Christ.
She curled her fingers into the softness of the blanket beneath her and met his assessing gaze. “Will . . . will it happen again?”
His expression gave nothing away, but his eyes were kind. “That I can’t answer. It could have been triggered by stress. We’ll need to work on it in our sessions. Identify triggers and work to desensitize them.”
Rory released a long, harsh breath. She’d never envisioned herself having therapy and now here she was. Fuck Phantom and Khan and the Death’s Heads for what they’d done to her. She would beat this and take back her life.
“I’m going to give you my private number,” Richard told her quietly. “You can reach me on it day or night, any time you need me.”
“Do you do that for all your clients?” she asked with a nervous laugh.
His lips tipped in a half-smile. “No. Just special cases. I know you’re scared, Rory, but you aren’t alone. Talking can help. Working through things. I know that doesn’t sound like much right now after what happened to you, but please give it a shot.”
“Alright,” she agreed, feeling tired. Overwhelmed. The cauldron of emotions inside her threatened to spill over.
“If you’re okay to continue, we can start the session that was scheduled for today.”
Rory wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she nodded anyway. “I’m good.”
Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his trousers, Dr. Steele made a quick call. “Kendra, cancel the rest of my appointments for today, please. Thank you.”
He angled his head. “I sent Belle home. Not knowing what we were dealing with, I was guessing hours, possibly days. I’ve seen both. You snapped out of it quicker than most. You’re a strong woman, Rory. Stronger than you know.”
“I don’t feel strong right now,” she confessed. “I feel . . . scattered. Fractured. Like one more blow will break me into pieces I might never be able to put back—and even if I did, I’d never be the same. Mended but still broken.”
Dr. Steele nodded sagely and eyed the restraints. “Why don’t we go back to my office?” he suggested. “Do a proper session in professional surroundings. I need you to be completely comfortable with me. Being in a strange bed with bondage toys doesn’t seem conducive to that.”
He was right, of course. This bedroom was already charged with unhealthy energy that she needed to neutralize. “Alright,” she agreed, accepting her purse that he handed her. “Lead the way.”
Two hours later, Rory came out of a hypnotherapy
