Sabra lay sprawled on the floor with her leg contorted as a glitter ball crashed into a cardboard box.

Painful cries escaped her as his intended mate lie on her side and tried to cradle her right leg to her chest. He didn’t talk or try to explain himself. Instead, Colson sprang into action.

His quick scan to discover the extent of her injury met with a piercing pain to his frontal lobe. Her pain butted against his psychically invasive inquiry.

Medical training, his gift of healing, and experience kicked in as he pushed through the barrier. Ignoring the sharp stabs of pain that pricked his psychic advancement, Colson steadied his focus on her upper thigh. The offending neuron messengers and receptors bloomed in concentration at the back of her leg in the middle thigh area.

Not good.

He said a little prayer that Sabra hadn’t ripped or torn anything. Her tiny yip of pain from the slightest movement wrenched his heart like nothing before.

That pain in his chest was another sign of the Dragon mating thrall’s continued advancement. The mating thrall worked to weave her into his existence on multiple levels and planes.

Each moment his thirst for mating with her grew exponentially. Most compelling about the phenomenon was his unquenchable need to have her close by and to feel physical touch. Colson strained toward the direction of her body heat until he caught himself.

It would be hard enough to win her affection without the whole Dragon-shifter issue. It would be near impossible if he couldn’t remain detached and calm enough to be objective. Ways in which their mating could turn into a cluster fuck danced on his practicality and reserved stance on most things.

A pitiful whimper broke his trance as Sabra’s leg trembled from the shock of pain. He had to put what he wanted on the back burner. Sabra needed him to be the healer and not the moonstruck potential mate.

Again, not good.

Self-control prevailed as he fought to reclaim his professional bedside manner. “Try to stay still. I’ll attempt to find the cause for the pain.”

A single tear rolled down her face as the woman who’d captured his heart in an instant fought back the instinct to move. Colson glanced at the beginning of what would be a noticeable hematoma in a few minutes smarting on her left temple.

Positioned to get an eye-level assessment, Colson leaned in to capture her attention. Sabra blinked and tried to shield her eyes from the glare of the overhead fluorescent lights.

She had a sensitivity to light—definitely not right.

“Hey there, look at me,” he coaxed. “Can you tell me where we are?”

She moved, and pain bloomed deepening the red undertones in her face once more. He could kick himself for not stabilizing her movements before doing a concussion protocol.

Her leg contorted in an unnatural angle as a pained spasm tore through her body. He had to do something to mitigate the torment now. On his knees and careful not to move or bump her, he performed a detailed scan.

That she’d torn her hamstring and suffered from a concussion, weren’t the top issues. The trickle of blood running down the back side of her neck took priority. His healing gift and Dragon senses overrode normalcy as Colson set about working.

“Sabra, listen to me.” She nodded through the pain. “I’m a medical doctor, and you’ve torn your hamstring.”

Her eyes grew large. Maybe he should have said it appeared that she’d torn her hamstring instead of being so absolute. It was too late for that now. He had to relieve the pain and get her stabilized. The amount of anguish with this injury could be excruciating. Even with his healing ability muscle repairs still took time to regrow and heal. He could shorten the time it took and lessen the pain but not completely eliminate the process, or discomfort.

She bucked when another jab of hamstring’s revenge exacted its punishment. He’d have to dull the feeling of the aggravated torn muscle enough to work on her head injury. To her credit, Sabra didn’t make too much of a fuss when he placed a hand on the back of her leg.

“I know the pain is a bit much. Try to stay as still as possible while I assess the extent of your injuries.”

She nodded.

He pressed in concentrated intent to push healing power through the thick fabric of her sweat pants. Colson wasn’t prepared for the sensations that met his probe. The tear was aggravated and firing on all pain receptors. Then there were snaps of interfering electrical impairments that wreaked havoc on her system.

The angry, piercing energy almost made him yank his hand away. The sensations repelled his efforts as if he’d stuck his finger into a live electrical socket. His poor Bria. Her entire being was under attack. Sabra was in extreme duress.

He needed skin-to-skin contact to do anything to lessen her pain.

“Bria?” He waited to grab her attention. Her eyelids dropped, and grogginess overtook her. Shit. It looked like she might have more complications from that head injury. He had to work fast.

Prioritizing the situation, he’d work to subdue the most aggravating issues first—the hamstring. Then he’d concentrate on her head. If she was this groggy, he had mere seconds to work before she could slip into unconsciousness.

The scented, still air of the studio did nothing to relieve him. Nothing short of stabilizing Sabra’s injuries would calm him down. His Dragon clawed and rage just beneath the surface. Colson refused to lose grip on his ability to react in logical and rational measures. Sabra deserved his best, and he’d make sure she had that.

Pricks of panic threatened to throw him off his game at the sight of his future mate in discomfort and medical danger. “Bria, open your eyes and look at me.” The stern snap of his tone was enough to get her to reopen her eyes. “I need you to continue to look at me. No falling asleep. You got me?”

Her neck warbled under the weight of her head. All he wanted to do was make the pain and injuries go away. He should have cleared the floor when he had the chance.

“I can do that,” she mumbled.

“Good.” Colson didn’t try to keep the relief out of his reply. “Bria, I need to touch you skin-to-skin to help you. Is that all right with you?”

Sabra smiled a lazy grin as she slurred, “Yeah, go for it.”

What he wouldn’t give for his medical bag right now. A few quick swipes of a sharp scalpel and he would have made quick work of the thick fleece material of her sweatpants. Instead of ripping the fabric to shreds with his bare hands, he took the time to work his dominant hand past the elastic waistband of the obtrusive garment.

He ignored the perfectly rounded plumpness of her butt and worked to position his hand over the injured area. “Bria, are you still good? I’m almost to the injured area.”

“Sure thing, yeah… all good.”

He didn’t like how her words began to slow and take on a pronounced impediment.

“Bria? Stay with me. Remember, don’t fall asleep.”

Deep red streams of blood smeared her neck and top of her sweatshirt. Colson had to work fast to stabilize the hamstring and then investigate the head trauma. As he’d suspected, she had a pretty good size goose egg on her temple by now.

“Am I naked?” she asked.

“No,” he allowed himself to laugh. “You’re still clothed.

“Oh. I think I want to be naked. You know like in that hip-hop lion beast card.” She looked at him as if trying to focus through dirty glasses and added, “Yep, I think you’re my lion. No, you’re a beast. I can tell. I’m talking epic. Look at that beard—it’s the best.” She lifted a hand and clumsily tried to pet his beard. “So manly. I love it. Come here,” her eyes were completely unfocused now. He leaned in, loving her scent. Sabra placed a palm on his cheek and ran light fingers through his beard. He shuddered at the sensuality of her touch. “Hey, Cole?”

“Yes?”

“Cole… bae, are you my bae?” she asked with an obvious struggle to form words. “Can I ride on your back naked, like in that strength picture?”

“What?” He stopped himself realizing her concussion was showing its handy work. He leaned back to break her spell before adding, “Maybe later, after we get you back on your feet.”

He wasn’t mad that she called him a beast or bae—a term of endearment that had become popular of late, too. She was at least five years younger than him, and that could account for the weird turns of phrases. He was mad that he had to pull away from her touch, though.

Colson willed the errant thoughts to the back of his mind. He placed a light hand on the back of her thigh and sent waves of healing magic into the tender muscle tear.

“Wow, that feels good. Your hand is so big and warm. Thank you, my big Pentacle Papa.”

“Huh—you’re welcome?” He didn’t want to laugh, but she was too funny, even with possible head trauma.

Urgency driven by the need for healing overrode his enjoyment as Colson worked to relieve some of her discomforts. Sabra’s hamstring was torn. Even with his healing ability, she would still be incapacitated for at least a week or two.

When the torn area calmed down enough for her to get a break from the pain sensors’ barrage of attacks, he moved to find the source of the blood. Colson’s previous scan revealed that she didn’t have any spinal issues. Her healthy spine allowed him to move her body.

He positioned her head onto his lap and slowly tilted it away from him. Caked and clotted, a patch of blood pooled in her hairline behind Sabra’s ear.

Colson parted the hair to get a closer look when she spoke. “Did I give you permission to touch my hair?”

He had to strain and concentrate on understanding all her words.

“What if I had decided to wear a wig or weave wonder tonight?” she asked, words even more thick and jumbled. “That’s a woman’s prerogative, you know.”

He kept working to see the injury. Sabra lay limp across his lap like a rag doll. When she attempted to swat his hand away, Sabra lost her balance and almost rolled off his lap.

“Stay still Bria. I need to find out how bad you hit your head.”

“Hard. That’s your answer.”

“I know my love, but you’re bleeding.”

“No, I’m not,” her words slurred as she mumbled. “I don’t feel like I’m bleeding.”

Colson let out a breath of relief that she hadn’t picked up on the fact that he called her his love.

He went with the flow and decided to keep her talking while he worked to stave off any more bleeding. Her hair was a thick mass of coils and curls that made it almost impossible to see her scalp.

His hands weren’t sanitized, and that made it challenging to work without possible infection from germs. She tried again to swat his hand away before Colson was able to part her hair enough to see the wound.

There was a vertical cut from the side of her nape’s hairline down to the back of her ear. It was a little over a couple of inches and deep enough to require stitches. Thankfully, the blood had already started to clot.

“What are you doing back there? You say I’m bleeding, and you don’t have any gloves.”

“You’ll be fine. I don’t have any transmittable diseases, trust me,” he cooed the assurance to keep her calm and still.

She tried again to swat his hand away.

“You never know, I could have something.”

“Even if you did, I’d be fine as well. Bria stay still. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, there is. You’re fishing around in my hair. Stop it. I assure you I’m not wearing weave. Get out of my hair.”

This time Cole was quick enough to stop her hand from trying to swat him away.

“Let me see your wound. Hold still.” He used the voice that meant he wasn’t playing, or so he hoped. Ava never paid any mind to it.

Sabra settled down to allow him to finish his investigation. Thankful her cut was manageable but concerned about her degrading speech quality, Colson weighed his options.

“Bria, I need to get you to a hospital. You need stitches. Who’s your next of kin?’

“Me, I mean, I don’t have any relatives alive.”

“Is there someone close you’d like to meet us at the hospital?”

She laughed. “Tilar is out of town for the next week, and Chloe is working and the reason for that damn ball on the floor. Nope, let them be.” She giggled like a little drunk. “I’ll use this as leverage and guilt.”

“That’s not nice, but I’m not going to argue with you. We need to get to the hospital now.”

He maneuvered her body in his lap and prepared to stand when she looked up at him.

“Wait, I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she paused and shut her eyes. He gave her a shake fearful of her slipping into unconsciousness before he could get a head scan. She opened her eyes and turned away.

“Because why? Bria, I need to run tests and get your leg braced.”

“Damn it, man, because I can’t.” Sabra let out a soft huff as if embarrassed. “I had to let go of my health insurance a few months back. I can’t afford to go to the hospital.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover the costs.” He wanted to shake and kiss her at the same time. “Now, where’s your phone and ID?”

Her eyes were closed. He didn’t move her for fear there might be more going on, like internal bleeding. Colson looked around to spy where she’d put that purse she’d come in here with. A deep burgundy line caught his attention.

The corner of the table he’d moved sported a thick line of drying blood. His insides curdled with dread. Bria must have hit the back of her head on the table when she tripped over that fucking glitter ball.

His timeline to get her to better care sped up.

“Bria, open your eyes for me, please.”

Nothing.

“Bria? Listen to me and open your eyes.”

Unresponsive.

The coldness of the industrial concrete floor did nothing to offer her comfort. He had to get Bria off this hard floor and properly treat her injuries.

Racing thoughts of how to proceed crowded over each other. The nearest hospital where he had credentials was Piedmont, but they didn’t have the technology he liked to use for head scans. Those machines were at Northside, and too far away. On the rare occasion he still treated fully human patients at a hospital, Colson always felt limited in what he could do with his Dragon-gifted healing ability while there.

“Hurry up and make it happen,” he scolded himself.

Take her home, his Dragon wisdom nudged.

That’s right. He had the medical wing he used for select clients at home. It was outfitted with all his must-have equipment.

He was about to transform into his Dragon side when more of its wisdom invaded his stress-induced foolery. He couldn’t chance someone seeing him as a Dragon crossing the late-night sky while clutching an unconscious woman.

Colson fished his phone out of his pocket and called Mac’s right-hand man, Danny. He’d get there fast and take him home. A quick text confirmation later and he was up looking for Sabra’s personal effects she’d need.

With her phone, purse, and keys in hand, he lifted the unconscious woman with the utmost care. She whimpered as the muted pain of her leg let itself be known.

Colson’s sharp mind had figured out a suitable plan. He’d pay Danny to come back when the movers arrived, to make sure they moved everything while he worked on Bria at home.

Danny drove up in an SUV. Then jumped out and opened the back to reveal a flat surface with a cushioned mat. Colson nodded and got in with Bria. She was short enough to fit as he laid her down on the cushioned surface.

“Here, take these and figure out which one locks the door to her studio. Once you figure it out, take it off her key ring and hold onto it.” Colson’s orders came out methodical and calm as Danny nodded.

He watched as Danny did his bidding.

Back in the driver’s seat, Danny tossed the keyring back to Colson.

“Now what?” Danny asked in that thick Tennessee drawl of his.

“Now, you drive us home.”