Lycan's Mate (His Claim) Chapter 61

Fiona's POV

Stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall to the right, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob before he reluctantly opened it wide, allowing us both to enter the woman's room. It was quite small, but enough space for a woman her age who didn't seem to like going out much. There was a small kitchen towards our right and a sitting area just in front of where we were standing. There were two couches with floral designs and a rug with a variety of colors underneath. The walls were painted a bright pink shade that made the room look oddly creepy. I was never a fan of the decorations that resided in these rooms, but then again, I wasn't the designer.

We made our way towards the door on the left and stepped through, immediately being greeted by the heavy scent of flowers that was Mrs. Westlife's perfume. She always seemed to put a little too much on. And by little, I mean that she would seem to bathe the entire room in it, leaving her visitors sneezing consistently. I being one of them.

I couldn't fight the sneeze that came, startling both him and the old woman with the loud noise. Whoops.

"God bless you child. Are you catching a cold?" She asked worriedly, her brown eyes searching mine.

I shook my head at the gray haired woman who wore a light purple nightgown that failed to conceal her undergarments. I couldn't help but let out a small laugh as I responded,

"Maybe. Probably due to the climate change that's occurring outside." I looked over at Dr. Samson who gave me a knowing look, his gray eyes sparkling from the sunlight that entered the room. We held gazes for a few moments longer before he looked away and took a few steps towards the old woman who was calmly sitting at the edge of the bed.

"How are you doing today, Mrs. Westlife?" He asked politely, immediately grabbing his stethoscope from his neck as he spoke.

"Perfect now that you're here," she responded with a sly smile as she straightened out her back. From this angle, it seemed to me that she was purposely exposing her breasts for him to see. I bit my bottom lip, stifling a laugh from escaping as I looked up at his face. A small grimace appeared on his lips before he masked it with a polite smile her way. She didn't seem to catch his reaction because her smile instead only broadened some more.

"That's very nice to hear, Mrs. Westlife. I'm glad I always make your day," he said as he continued to listen to her heartbeat.

"Please, call me Happiness. Mr. Westlife is no longer here," she said, waving her hand dismissively in the air.

I shook my head playfully as I pulled out the pen I always kept in the front right pocket of my uniform. I walked over to the small desk beside me and sat in the chair in front of it, placing the stack of papers on the table before asking out loud,

"Happiness, have you been having any more chest pains since the last time we saw you?"

I turned my head slightly, noticing how her pupils dilate as she continued to stare up at Dr. Samson. He was trying his best not to fidget under her heavy gaze. I've been here long enough to know that whenever he had that serious expression on his face, he was either annoyed or trying his very best not to run out of the room. In this case, it's the latter.

I cleared my throat, catching her attention. She blinked several times before giving me a sheepish smile.

"Oh, they come and go."

I nodded.

"Are they any severe as before?"

She shook her head in response.

"No. They are a lot lighter now after Dr. Samson prescribed that medication." As she said his name, her eyes turned back to his again as he began to take her blood pressure.

I smiled, shaking my head as I scribbled down what she said. At the sound of the beep from the machine, I turned around once more before writing down her results. Her blood pressure seemed fine so I knew her other medications were working perfectly. Dr. Samson nodded, probably happy to see that she was doing fine before saying,

"Lay down for me, Happiness."

She did so obediently as another bright smile slowly spread across her face, showing off her wrinkles as she looked up at him.

"It sounds heavenly when you say my name like that, Dr. Samson."

I turned around just in time to see him cringe, his hands stopping over her stomach before giving her a forced smile. From that moment on, he tried his best to hurriedly check on her without doing so clumsily. It was hard not to laugh at his facial expressions, but I had to admit that I was really enjoying the show. If only I had a camera.

"Goodbye, Happiness. I'll see you at dinner," I called out as I shut the door behind me and stepped beside Dr. Samson who was running a hand through his light brown locks. He let out an exasperated sigh as he stared out the opened windows showing the parking lot just outside. It was then that I let out the small laugh that I was desperately hiding for the past twenty minutes while we were inside her room.

"What's so funny?" He asked, his eyes amused as he stared down at me.

I shook my head.

"Oh, nothing. It's just nice to see that you finally have a girlfriend after all this time that I've known you."

A frown laced his features as he folded his long arms over his chest.

"That's not funny," he grumbled, acting more like a child despite being older than me by several years.

"Yes it is," I said, my laughter echoing across the hall before it subsided into a small giggle.

"Your face was priceless, though."

He rolled his eyes before his usual bright smile appeared on his lips.

"Glad to know that you find my suffering amusing."

"Extremely," I replied before another fit of laughter escaped my lips. I had to admit, seeing him be hit on by an old woman like Mrs. Westlife was extremely funny and just what I needed to see to brighten up my mood for the day. Shaking my head, I began to make my way down the hallway and towards the staircase since our next patient was on the second floor.

"You have a beautiful laugh. It's been a while since I've heard it," he said from behind.

His words instinctively made me stop on my heels. I spun around slowly and stared at him questioningly. Did I really hear what I just heard?

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly, my voice guarded as my grip tightened on the papers.

He stopped a few feet away from me with a curious expression on his face.

"I don't know, you haven't been yourself lately," he said with a shrug. My expression must have urged him to explain his words because he continued with a soft sigh.

"Fiona, when I first met you, you were extremely animated and excited to start a job here. I knew something always seemed to be troubling you, but you always had a bright smile on your face every morning. Over the past few months, your aura seemed to change. You look more worn down and tired. Is something wrong?"

So people really have started to take notice. I knew it was quite evident, but I always dismissed it as stress from working long hours here at the Senior Home. Since I barely have anything to do at home, I have always offered to stay another extra shift to keep me occupied. I loved the company of the old folks here and I felt at peace whenever I was amongst their presence. Why? I never actually knew, but I never questioned it either. Is there actually something wrong with me? As I began to rummage through my brain for any particular reason, a face suddenly appeared on my mind, making me wince and shake my head furiously to erase the image.

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly looked back into his gray eyes, my voice immediately getting caught in my throat as I noticed the strong emotion within their depths. They were filled with concern and worry as they continued to search my own. I tried my best to look away, but I seemed to be stuck in a trance as I continued to stare at them. The sudden urge to walk up to him, to close the small distance that remained between us, and hold him in my arms overwhelmed me. The room started to shift ever so slightly, making me stumble to the side, nearly dropping all the papers I still held in my hands. His strong hand gripped my arm, steadying me easily. The mere touch made me feel uneasy and jubilant all at the same time. It was a confusing sensation, and his face continuously entered my mind, making my stomach turn over.

"Are you alright?" He asked again, his grip remaining firmly in place as he turned me so I could look at him.

Not wanting to risk that to happen again, I simply nodded in response.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled before tearing my arm away. I could practically picture his bewildered expression as I began to walk towards the staircase once more.

"I think we should get going, Dr. Samson," I said quietly, hoping he would hear so I wouldn't have to repeat myself.

I heard his steps quicken as I neared the staircase before his hand grabbed my arm again, spinning me all in the same process. I stared at him wide eyed before his voice silenced my unspoken question.

"Whatever is going on Fiona, I want you to know that I'm here if you need anything. I don't like to see you be this upset." His voice was sincere and took me completely by surprise.

I took a step back, leaving his arm hovering in the air in front of me.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm perfectly fine. What is important now is the patient that is waiting for us upstairs. If you don't mind, I would like to make sure that they are alright," I said confidently. My eyes widened once more at the sound of my own voice. I had not spoken like that in such a long time and the newfound confidence frightened me some. Memories began to flood back in and I tried my best not to lose myself in front of this man.

Without another word, I spun around and began to make my way up the stairs. I could hear him quietly following me from behind, and I was grateful that he wasn't pushing the matter any further. I had to admit, the silence that remained between us as we entered the second floor was a bit uncomfortable, but I didn't bother to break it any time soon. My mind was completely somewhere else and it was becoming difficult to focus at the task at hand. Pushing my previous words to the back of my mind, I opened the second door to our left and allowed him to enter. I could feel his heavy gaze burn a hole on the side of my face, but I never once bothered to meet his eyes. An odd sensation ran through me as his arm brushed against my own, making me flinch ever so slightly. He seemed to notice because I felt his eyes back on me before greeting our next patient.

I let out a heavy sigh and tried my best to greet the patient with a bright smile. What is wrong with me?