Bonded

Chapter 20

Greyson threw open the heavy wooden door and rushed into the office ignoring politeness and protocol.

"Greyson, what in the name of the Goddess has gotten into you?" The exclamation came out in the precise, clipped tones of his High Alpha. She stood up behind her desk, expanding to her impressive height, ready for anything. From head to toe, she was a Nordic warrior. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were the color of a clear winter sky. Her white blonde hair was pulled back into three long French braids. One on each side of her scalp and the third roping its way down the top of her head. Meeting at the nape of her neck, the braids merged into one. It was the way of her people. She wore a white leather moto jacket over a white fishnet top over a white tank top. Her legs were encased in a skintight pair of white leather pants paired with white ankle boots.

"I need the jet," Greyson spat his demand out. His breath coming in short pants.

"Young One, you do not burst into my office demanding things. Do not make me remind you of your place," Her blue eyes held ice and the promise of retribution.

"I apologize, Imara, I do, but my mate, she's sick, I need to get to her."

"Your mate? How is this the first I am hearing of her?" One blonde eyebrow quirked upwards in annoyance.

"Imara, please, it's bonded sickness. The headache started weeks ago." Greyson hadn't planned on begging, but he would. He would fall to his knees and grovel if it got him to Rebecca faster.

"Go then. Go to your mate. Take the jet and a healer. But rest assured, Young One, you and I will be having a conversation when you return." With a nod of her head, she dismissed him.

"Thank you, Imara. May your Way be smooth."

"May you find your Way, Young One."

At his dismissal, Greyson turned on his heel and ran at full speed toward the medical wing.

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Bonnie shifted again on the couch, desperate to try and find a comfortable position. The contraption was as uncomfortable as it was ghastly. It had been a little over three hours since she hung up with Greyson Carmichael. She hoped he would be able to get here soon. She had put her ear against the bedroom door a couple of times, and she was positive she heard crying.

A sharp, impatient knock at the door had her jumping off the couch and running to answer it.

"Bonnie?" The man behind the door was tall and wide. He had olive skin, and his eyes were full of concern. His hair was sticking up at all angles as if he had been running his fingers through it. He wore a pair of well worn jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Mr. Carmichael?" Bonnie stepped aside at his nod to let him in. A brunette woman and a red headed man followed in behind him, both equally as tall.

"Where is she?"

"The bedroom. Just through that door." He started off in the direction she indicated.

"Mr. Carmichael?" He turned at his name looking at her expectantly. He was a man on a mission. "I think I heard crying from in there earlier." He nodded his understanding.

"Tyler, give me a few minutes and then come in." The brunette murmured to her okay. Greyson pivoted and headed towards his mate. He was surprised when he was stopped by a lock on her bedroom door. This wasn't the typical, flimsy lock installed by the building contractor. This was a heavy-duty lock, designed to keep people out. He had more important things on his mind than the mystery of the lock and simply used his supernatural strength to break the lock and enter Rebecca's bedroom.