Scout: Reckless Desires (Norseton Wolves Book 7) by Holley Trent Page B

what happened, but he’s going to call in a specialist. They’ll likely want to do some tests on you, and hopefully soon. Most of the medical practitioners here are generalists, so we have to call outsiders in to treat specific conditions. Hard sometimes to find folks who will be as discreet as we need them to be, but we’ve got a pretty good referral list.”
    “You gonna find me a werewolf brain doctor?”
    “Nah. No need. We’ll just tap into our network of psychic friends.”
    She snorted, in spite of herself. In spite of how pissed she was at him.
    But she didn’t know what else she could do. When he’d said “seizure,” she’d taken the news with her usual stoic bracing, but the longer the word sat at the forefront of her mind, the more frightened she became.
    Why me? And why now?
    She turned to him, tangling the covers around her body and swatting them away with impatience. “Is there something in my head? A tumor, or—”
    “ Shhh . No, no. Don’t worry about that. We got you into a CT machine after you blacked out. No signs of tumors. There are a lot of reasons people could have seizures.” He flipped his phone in the air, easily catching it again and again without looking. “Some people have predilections for them and they just don’t become apparent until there’s some precipitating factor.”
    “Am I going to die?”
    He chuckled.
    “Don’t laugh at me. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
    “I’m not. I’m laughing because I know how pissed you’re going to be when someone suggests that you shouldn’t drive anymore.”
    She rolled over onto her hands and knees and pounced at him, but apparently Viking reflexes were better than wolf reflexes—at least at the moment—and he caught her by the shoulders before she could sic teeth, claws, or anything else into him.
    “See what I mean?” he whispered.
    “Put me down.”
    “Are you going to behave yourself?”
    She scoffed, but did retract her fangs.
    He still didn’t put her down. He held her up at arm’s length as if she were a rag doll he wanted to examine from a distance.
    “Are you going to be nice?” he asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Awesome. You and my mother will get on swimmingly, I bet. She’s very territorial. And opinionated.”
    Petra squirmed in his iron-strong grip and kicked her legs a bit beneath her.
    He clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes. “She likes to tell people everything they’re doing wrong. She maintains a written list of all my deficiencies. Recites items from it every time I walk home.”
    “Well, at least you have a mother.”
    “Yep. I’m grateful she exists. She’s a good woman, if a bit tactless, but she’s persistent in the way Afótama mothers are. She’s already figured out something’s not quite right with the web around me. She’s been texting me endlessly for the past three hours, which is impressive, seeing as how dawn is approaching. She’s normally in bed by nine.”
    “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” She squirmed again. Her neck was starting to hurt from being held up at that angle away from him, and if she let her head loll, she wouldn’t be able to keep staring him down.
    Not that he seemed all that affected by her stare, anyway. He wasn’t afraid of her. In the past ten years, she’d gotten used to men quickly backing away immediately after approaching. She was very good at making herself seem like she wasn’t worth their effort.
    Paul was putting in a lot of effort, but he hadn’t indicated that he thought she was worth it yet.
    “You sure you weren’t the one raised by wolves?” she muttered.
    He grunted. “Actually, my mother is incredibly uptight, and my father doesn’t talk about anything except stock prices and baseball scores. You may not agree that I am, but they’re perfectly civilized.”
    She sighed, finally gave up, and let her head loll. She couldn’t keep straining her neck. “Put me down, Paul. My neck hurts.”
    “Okay.” He