it should have. But, to my surprise, the older man Naima had called Thomson didn’t express relief but something akin to triumph and hope as he pushed my mate behind him. I would need to find out what the fuck was going on in this place.
I flew into the Mist, welcoming its cool and invigorating embrace, but lurked by the door long enough to make sure it properly closed behind me to keep my woman safe. I needed to hunt to replenish the energy I had expended breaking that massive glass and gain even more while waiting for my bride to go to sleep.
And then, the real fun would start.
Chapter 5
Naima
My right hand clutched the burning and throbbing mark branded on my chest. The other latched on to Thomson as he herded me back inside while multiplying the apologies. I couldn’t focus on his words. My head spun, and my body tingled with a foreign energy that pulsated outward from my brand. My chest felt so constricted that I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen in my lungs.
He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me…
I had to keep repeating those words to myself or else I would lose it. Another wave of panic almost overwhelmed me as we navigated around the broken glass of the holding cell before exiting that room.
Images of the reinforced glass wall shattering then his shadow tentacles grabbing me started replaying in a loop in my head. In that instant, I’d believed my final hour had come. Seconds from my body slamming against his, I’d expected Zain to drain me with the same voracity he had siphoned Jared and that Cthulhu Beast.
After that dreadful night, I’d dream of a similar scene for weeks thereafter. The Mistwalker would bash in my bedroom window, then pin me to my bed with his tentacles to feed on me. As I lived alone, it would have taken a few days of me not showing up to work and not answering calls before someone came to check up on me, only to find the dried-up husk that remained. The growing intensity and vividness of those nightmares had eventually driven me to seek therapy.
He hadn’t hurt me. He’d even tried to comfort me. That might have worked, even just a little, had he not put whatever that thing was inside of me. What was that even doing to me, right now?
“Am I going to turn into something like him?” I asked as Thomson ushered me inside a room in the middle of the corridor we’d been treading.
I blinked at the excessive brightness within, realizing it was some kind of infirmary. A pretty female with brown skin and long, silky black hair—likely of Indian descent—came to me with a concerned look in her eyes.
“No, Ms. Connors,” Director Thomson said in a reassuring tone. “No harm will come to you from this. I will explain everything to you a little later. For now, I’d like Dr. Chandra to give you an exam.”
“An exam for what?” I asked, suddenly feeling on the defensive. “For that thing?” I tapped on the marking on my chest which continued to throb and appeared to grow darker and more defined with each passing minute. “And no, I don’t want to wait until later. I want to know now what the fuck is happening to me.”
Dr. Chandra slowly approached me, wisely stopping at a non-threatening distance. “Ms. Connors,” she said in a soothing voice and a gentle smile that did help a little. “You have just gone through a traumatic experience. You are extremely agitated—with good reason—but I fear you are about to start hyperventilating. You are a psychologist. I do not need to list the symptoms to you.”
I swallowed hard and hugged my midsection. The rational part in me knew her words to be true, but the other part didn’t give a damn. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly.
“Very good,” Dr. Chanda said in an approving tone.
I repeated the process a few more times until my head began to clear. Opening my eyes again, I glared at Director Thomson. He held my gaze, not with defiance, but with the calm acceptance of someone in the wrong determined to fix things.
“What is this thing?” I asked through my teeth. “Can you take it out?”
“That is the brand that anchors him to you,” Thomson explained in a gentle voice. “Unfortunately, it can never be taken out. Even if Zain dies, his brand will remain on you. This