Dr. House exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he had already run out of patience for the day. “Yeah. You’re not the only patient today whose mate has a death grip on reality. Some other guy nearly took my head off this morning when I so much as reached for his mate’s pulse.”
I tilted my head, my protective instincts immediately shifting to suspicion. “Who?”
The doctor waved a hand dismissively. “Not your problem. Some big, angry bastard who—” He paused, narrowing his eyes as if he suddenly remembered something, then gave me a long, scrutinizing look. “Actually, now that I think about it, you two look like you’d get along great. You’ve got the same permanently pissed-off energy.”
I ignored his insult, already more interested in whoever the other “psycho” was.
My
