The Falcon Ridge Series Book 4: Art of a Girl

(Chapter song ‘Risingson' by Massive Attack)

BASTIAN

I watch Sammy leave and think about not only what she said, but how she said it. She really seems troubled about going out with me. I can’t ignore the strange feelings I got from her. She seems conflicted. I don’t think I gave her any reason to be. Unless, she’s still not comfortable with who I am and my position over her. Being a Gamma, I can’t really fault her for feeling a certain way. Alphas can be intimidating.

I’ll just give her the space she asked for. It might be good for both of us to make sure this is what we both want.

I glance at the table as I push off it to leave. My brows come together as I reached down and pick up a business card off the table top.

The words written on it made my stomach flip.

‘Dr. Chase Rennet

Psychotherapist and Hypnotherapist’

I look over the card and see an appointment written in pen on the back for tomorrow. I turn the card over and read it again.

A few questions. Why does Sammy need therapy? She’s never given me any indication that she’s in need of help, unless you count her absenteeism. The major questions are… How did Rennet set up shop in my city so fast and why the hell is he treating Sam? I thought he dealt with scumbags? I start to wonder if he’s filling her head with shit about me.

This guy is really starting to grate. He’s hitting too close to home.

I drop the card back down on the table and leave the ballroom. I think I need to have a conversation with pain in the ass psychologist.

****

As I walk through the prison, all my questions, and more, circle my brain. When I get to Rennet's office, I have one burning question that I need to get out.

I knock on the door and wait.

“Come in.”

As soon as I hear his voice, I open the door. I puff up my chest and step into his office. He’s sitting behind his mediocre wooden desk doing paperwork.

He looks up, adjusts his glasses and smiles. “Bastian. How are you? Please…sit.”

“No, thanks. I’ll stand.” I eye his office, then look back at him as my jaw ticks. If he’s fucking up Sam's head and screwing this up for me, he’s not getting out of this office in one piece.

He drops his pen on his papers, leans back and laces his fingers on his chest. “How can I help you, Alpha?”

I walk over to his desk, lean my hands on it and look him dead in the eyes. “Samantha Gale. What are you telling her?”

His brows cinch. “Samantha? How do you…”

“She’s my decorator and a friend. What are you telling her?” I ask again.

“You’re friends with Samantha. That’s wonderful for her.” He leans forward and laces his hands on his desk.

“Answer the question. She’s acting weird and I think you’re the problem. What are you saying to her?” He grit.

He nods and chuckles. “Bastian. I don’t know how you found out she was a patient, and would tell you, but I’m certain you’ve heard of doctor/patient privilege. If you haven’t, it means mind your own business.” He says smartly.

I shake my head. “No. That’s bullshit. Tell me.”

“Bastian. I can’t tell you what goes on in my sessions with Sam. If you want answers, you’re going to have to ask her, but I’m sure prying into her personal life won’t look that great.” He gives me a smug smirk, picks up his pen and starts write.

Damn it. He’s right.

“Ok.” I push off the desk and cross my arms. “Let’s talk about you, then.”

“Go ahead. I’m an open book.” He flashes a smile then continues his paperwork.

“I thought you dealt with criminal trash. Since when do you head shrink in my pack?” I chew my cheek as he raises his eyes to me.

He chuckles a bit, then leans back, playing with his pen in his fingers as he does. “I’ll ignore the offensive wording, but if you must know, the doctor I’m covering for is an old colleague of mine. She heard I was in town and needed me to cover her patients while she was gone. I’m doing her a favor. That’s all.”

“Sammy’s not a criminal.” I state.

“No. She’s not. I also specialize in dream management and hypnotherapy as a sort of hobby. I help people through dream interpretation.” He offers.

I turn my head slightly. “Sammy’s having dream problems?”

“Privilege.” He lifts a finger to me as he gives me a reminder.

I lean on his desk again. “Ok. So, you’re treating patients who have dream problems.”

“Dreams can say a lot, Bastian. As we make our way through life, it often gets confusing for some people. Sometimes a way to get answers is to probe the dream state. I…take a walk…if you will, through people’s subconscious and see what I can find. It’s actually very interesting work.” He says nonchalantly.

“The hypnosis?” I question.

“Just a tool. I can accomplish a more in-depth diagnosis with a patient who’s mind is completely open to me. I can direct the patient to see what they need to see and help them make corrections, or block what they don’t need.” He supplies.

“Block?” I raise a brow.

“It’s too complicated to explain.” He says low.

I push off the desk again. “I’ll be asking Sam about this. If I find out you’re fucking with her…”

“I'm not, Bastian. I’m helping her.” He stares at me and I’m not sure if I 100 percent believe that.

“So, you said." I eye him cautiously.

He narrows his eyes, leans back, rubs his chin, and studies me. “I'm curious, Alpha.”

“What about?” I sigh with annoyance as I stuff my hands in my pockets.

He leans on his desk. “I’m curious to know what it is you dream about.” He tilts his head, and lifts it with a smile.

“Pardon me?” I scoff and give him a sarcastic look.

“Just tell me. I promise it would be confidential.” He ticks his head, and I’m internally laughing my ass off.

“I told you not to put me on your damn couch.” I point to him with a scowl.

“You’re not on my couch, Bastian.” He grins. “You’re standing in my office. There’s no record here. You can tell me. Please. Humor me to find out what it is an Alpha of your standing dreams about.”

He stands and walks around his desk. He leans on the edge and crosses his arms. “You’re here asking about Samantha when I suspect you may have bigger issues. Often, dreams are a window to the psyche. So, I'll ask again. What…do you dream?”

He says the last part quietly, and I felt like he’s fishing for something. So, ok. I’ll humor him.

“What all guys dream about. Sex.” I smirk.

“Sex.” He repeats. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” I say smugly.

“Every dream?” He analyzes. “The same woman?” He raises his brow.

“No. Not all the time.” I answer.

“Huh.” He pushes off his desk and walks back around to his chair. He sits, pulls himself in and goes back to writing.

My brows cinch together. “Huh?” I step closer to his desk. “That’s it?”

He glances at me. “What do you want me to say? I asked. You answered. Thank you.”

“I was kind of expecting some stupid shrink analysis about how I hate my father and in love with my mother or something.” I narrow my eyes.

He laughs. “Freud aside, Bastian. I think your answer gave me everything I needed to know.”

“Which is?” I say suspiciously.

He drops his pen. “Well… If that’s what you dream, then I can safely surmise you’re either ashamed of your sexual prowess, a very frustrated Alpha pining for the sexual connections you can't get, or…” He looks up at me and gives me a snarky look. “You’re a complete bullshitter.” He arches a brow and I chew my lip.

“Have a good day.” I say stoically.

“You, too.” He slightly bows his head and I leave the room.

I knew he was a quack. The last thing I am is sexually frustrated or ashamed. I dream about sex because I like it. The fucking idiot doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

It may be true that I want to get closer to Sammy and she’s keeping me at arms length. This is a first for me, but I hardly doubt I’m frustrated by it.

When she gets back, I’ll subtly bring this up. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like this guy isn’t doing her any favors for whatever it is she’s having a problem with.

I feel like I should be keeping a closer eye on her. Sure, I should keep my nose out of her business, but my gut is telling I need to pay attention more.

If she needs therapy for her dreams, there has to be a reason why and I’m going to find out.

****

As the days wear on, my wolf is getting more and more irritated. Dealing with Rennet at the prison, and knowing he's around Sammy, is bugging the fuck out of me. I’ve had to stop myself from calling her on several occasions.

His incessant reports just keep coming, and now, Fredericks is pushing for action. All I can think about is what is he putting in Sammy’s head?

He's been irritating me so much, I did a background check, and everything does checkout. But before he turned 18, it was like he never existed. I can't even find his damn birth certificate. It’s not on any shifter record. I could search others, but I'd need special permission from Mica Whitney and I’m not about to go to that guy for anything.

He's also ramped up his private conversations with the Dragons at the prison. I've tried to gain access to those interactions, but I keep getting stonewalled by privacy laws. Dragons are last people on the planet who deserve privacy, as far as I’m concerned. But the good Doctor keeps everything tightly wrapped.

After two days of being tortured by this, I’m really starting to develop the need to see Sammy. Not just see her, but see her all the time. I’m really starting to get addicted to her presence. When she’s gone, I hit the wall of withdrawal and I’m struggling to function in any reasonable manner.

This is getting ridiculous. What the hell is she doing to me?

To top it all off, I have to suffer with her business partners.

The smell of food hits my nose as I approach the ballroom. All it does is amp up my aggravation and my wolf stands up. When I walk through the door, Eric and Dylan have bags of food all over the table. They’re eating and gabbing while every box in the place is torn apart and decorating supplies are strewn everywhere.

This completely pisses me off.

“What’s going on in here?!” I growl as I stomp to the table.

“Alpha. We’re just grabbing a quick bite before the furniture arrives in an hour.” They spin around in their chairs. Eric leans on the back of his while Dylan chokes down the food in his mouth.

“This place is a mess! Put the fucking food down and clean this place up!” I aggressively motion to the mess across my ballroom floor.

They look out to the floor and back at me. “There’s…um…We're organizing…” Eric’s brows shoot up as he sweats.

I glare at both of them. “Only Samantha is allowed to eat in this room! You idiots can sit in the dining hall after you clean up this damn mess!!” My wolf barks and growls from his cage as the vein in my forehead throbs

Dylan puts up his hand to me. “Alpha… We totally apologize. You’re right… We'll get on this right…”

“Alpha?”

I look behind me to Nigel striding in, interrupting my tirade.

“There’s some work in your office that needs your attention.” He places his hands on his hips as he glances between me and the men who ruined my ballroom.

I squint at him. “Fine.” I turn back to the men. “This all better be cleaned up before I get back.” I warn and the both nod in agreement.

Nigel turns me away and smiles at the men. “He’s just stressed. It’s fine. Finish your lunch.”

As he pushes me out the door, he scowls. “You need to calm down.” He grits under his breath.

“Did you see that mess?” I point back to the ballroom. “Why should I calm down?”

“Bastian, you just yelled at people for eating.” He raises his brow as we both walk into the common room.

I glance at him and shake my head. “Sammy would never make a mess like that.” I stuff my hands in my pockets as I scowl.

He stops me and looks into my eyes. “OK. Why don’t you hide in your office for the next 5 days? It’s clear Sammy not being here is making your wolf not think straight.”

“My wolf doesn’t control me.” I clench.

“Bastian. Your eyes are glowing.” He tilts his head to me.

I stop and look into a mirror hanging on the wall of the room. Gold light reflects back at me. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and push my guy back down. Once he’s locked back up, I open them and bite my top lip. “He doesn’t control me.” I say with a growl.

“Sure. Look. Go and relax. She'll be back. Try to find something to distract you.” He suggests.

I leave him in the hall, rub my nape and try to ignore the asshole in my head. My wolf certainly isn't making things easy, but I’m in no way controlled by him. He knows who’s in charge. It’s just sometimes, he’s mouthy and insistent. I…lose focus.

I could shut him up by forcing Sammy to cancel the rest of her vacation, but I can’t do that. She’d see me as a real jerk then. I need another plan. One that would require her to stay in the pack house permanently.

I twist my lips as I stroll down the office corridor. I glance at the doors and my eye catches one. I slow to a stop and look up at the empty name plate under the door number.

I place my hand on the handle and open it. I slowly walk in and look around. It’s empty, dim and stark white. There’s built in shelves and three windows at the back where a desk would be.

The wheels spin as I inspect the room. I walk to the windows, pull out my phone and open my contacts. I lean my back on one of windows and smile at the empty room as I place the phone to my ear.

The other end picks up and lift my chin as my grin gets wider. “Cheryl. Can you meet me in vacant office 4? I have a project for you.”

I hang up and put my phone in my pocket. I lean my hands on the window sill on either side of my hips and cross my feet.

The ideas swim, I lick my bottom lip, and my wolf howls.

“It’s perfect.”