Page 181 of Drama Queen

“Get my doctor up here with a suitable treatment for my apparent hormone haze. Tell him to move slowly or my lion will take him out. It appears I’ve found my fated mate, but that’s going to have to wait until we deal with this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You,” they heard Wilson snap as the door closed behind him. “Go to the clinic, fetch Dr Watson, tell him it’s the same thing as yesterday, but a male this time. He’ll understand. Make sure he understands to tread lightly and move slowly.”

“Yes, sir,” someone replied, almost in a parody of Wilson’s previous response.

“You,” Wilson said, singling someone else out. “Guard this door. Let nobody in or out other than the good doctor. President’s orders.”

“He didn’t order that,” the man said, and Leonard recognised Zeke’s voice, the guard who had shown an interest in his mate. His lion rumbled angrily.

“No, he didn’t,” Wilson agreed. “However, I’m quite sure he can hear us, and he’s not protesting. Besides, if he was thinking straight right now, he would have done it anyway. He’s not in immediate danger, but you will be if you go in there to confirm.”

“I need to know he’s alright,” Zeke responded. “You’re telling everyone to stay out, but sending for a doctor. You have to admit, that’s going to raise a few flags with anyone.”

“He’s fine,” Charlotte called out. “A little lost to the world right now, but not in a bad way.”

“Charlotte, is that you?” Zeke asked.

He could no more have stopped his response than he could a tidal-wave. Grabbing Charlotte by the arm, he pulled her behind him, the roar erupting from his throat likely heard throughout the entire building. “She ismine,” he reiterated for all.

“Oh fuck,” Zeke muttered.

“I tried to warn you,” Wilson replied.

“Knock it off, Leonard,” Charlotte told him, as she struggled to get out of his grasp. “I’m just going to turn on the t.v. We might as well see what the fuss is about, while we’re waiting for Dr Watson.”

As much as it pained him to do so, he let her go. His mate had asked for something, and he would provide it — just as long as she didn’t leave the room.

Charlotte snickered, looking over her shoulder at him, and his heart beat a little faster. “Is that really his name? Dr Watson? Like in Sherlock Holmes?”

Despite his beast’s agitation, Leonard found his lips curling in an answering smile as he nodded. “We give him absolute hell over it too. People kept putting up cardboard signs outside his room saying221B Baker Street, but he kept pulling them down.”

“Oh no!” she giggled. “That poor man.”

Fuck, that sound. He wanted to hear it again and again. This time his smile was even broader. “I couldn’t have all that paperwasted, so I had a brass plaque engraved, you know, the type they have out the front of clinics?”

She nodded, biting her lip, making him want to do the same. His cock twitched.

“It has his name and credentials alright, but underneath the clinic title and address.”

“What did you do?” she gasped, her eyes wide with delight.

“It says, Baker Street Clinic, 221B Baker Street. Dr Watson, and then all those letters after his name. I had the maintenance crew attach it to the wall with superglue, so you’d have to take half the wall out if you wanted to pull it down. It gets polished every week, and shines just as brightly now as the day it did when it was erected.”

Her gaze flickered then, just for a second as he finished speaking — down to his crotch and then back up again. Erected. Erection. Yes, he could follow her thought process. When she licked her lips, he groaned and took a step toward her.

“Stop,” she commanded, holding up a hand to emphasise it. “You know we can’t deal with this right now.”

Slowly she crouched, careful not to just bend over in front of him, and picked up the remote. As the large flat-screen on the wall came to life, all the blood drained from her face. This was bad. This was oh so very bad, and he knew she was going to have difficulty with this moment for the rest of her life, because there in large bold letters scrolling across the screen was the worst kind of headline for anyone in public office.

Presidential aid caught in sex scandal - secret miscarriage likely cause of shifter overreaction to death in custody.

As the sound started to come through, it only got worse. Pundits from groups known to be openly anti-shifter, were talking about how hormone hazes could affect the thinking of those afflicted with the ability to change forms. That the loss of their unborn child was making them hypersensitive toeverything around them, clearly demonstrated by the hysterical nonsense at the joint press conference earlier.

While the channel was one of the less reputable media outlets, it was avidly followed by those with a low IQ and very loud, opinionated mouths. There was no avoiding this, they would have to address the matter, all while two families were quietly grieving the loss of their own children. This was a disaster on a huge scale, and suddenly he found his erection gone. The need to comfort his mate who had sunk to her knees, her breathing ragged, overwhelming everything else.

Which of course, was when a hesitant knock came at the door.

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