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Nora is my mate. This is my pride—pack?
And I’m not gonna let anything harm it.
Not even her.
13
NORA
“Good morning, little mouse,” Devoss says. The cheery tone to his normally psychotic vibe makes me happy. He’s letting his guard down and showing me his real self—not the facade he puts up around people.
But, unfortunately, unlike yesterday, where I woke up and chatted with Griffin and managed to have a shower and get changed, I just don’t have that in me today.
I don’t even have it in me to acknowledge him.
“Nora?”
I let out a little whimper, just to alert him I’m actually awake. But that’s it. That’s all I can manage.
I feel terrible right now. So horribly terrible since I can’t just put a smile on my face and be okay. They’ve whisked me away for this beautiful weekend together, and I can’t get out of bed to enjoy it.
There’s no reason why, well, you know, other than the fact that I’m depressed. We had such a lovely night, we chatted with each other, and I spent lots of time reading. They made sure I had plenty of time in my wolf form, too, and since we were doing it as a group, it didn’t feel as pressurised as a way to bond with my wolf.
Orson made us a delicious dinner, and, after which, we went into the hot tub. There were lots of playful moments, and it was nice. A few of the guys—Atticus and Griffin in particular—had to put my wolf back in her place when she tried to cross lines, but, overall, it was great.
I came to bed alone, wanting to read before falling asleep, and the guys spent some time together. It was a perfect night.
So, why do I wake up feeling this way? It’s like I’ve already started the day out with my energy levels at a five, and, yeah, that’s out of one hundred like a phone battery.
I just can’t gather the energy to function. Everything seems harder, and I hate it.
I know I’ve got an appointment with George this afternoon, and I pray that it helps, but until then… I need to just lay here and be nothing.
It doesn’t change the fact that I hate myself for it. My mates have put so much thought into this weekend, so much love, and I’m doing nothing except ruin it.
I open my eyes, scenting him getting closer, and see Voss kneeling at my side of the bed. His jade green eyes are sparkling with happiness, and he’s giving me a smile with his small, down-turned lips. His smile is wide, and I can see his teeth, where the big tooth on the left is slightly shorter than the one on the right.
He chipped it on the monkey bars when he was younger, apparently, and whilst his dentist has built up the left to make them equal in length, you can still notice it if you look.
There’s no anger in his gaze, no real concern, either. Just genuine happiness to see me.
It shouldn’t give me butterflies, but it does.
“Hey there, little mouse,” Voss murmurs, running his knuckles down my cheek. “Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”
I sigh, taking stock of my bladder, and give one small nod. I’m up and in his arms within a moment, and he strides through to the bathroom as if I weigh nothing. It may seem pathetic having to rely on Voss, to help me complete a basic necessity, but I’m not going to argue when I’m this desperate.
I didn’t realise how badly I needed a wee until he pointed it out.
He leaves while I use the toilet, but then, to my surprise, he comes back as I start hobbling away. He holds out my toothbrush. “Brush your teeth.”
I tilt my head, examining the pale pink toothbrush, before slowly shaking it. I don’t have the energy to do it, not if I want to do anything today. He nods, puts it down on the counter, and then carries me back through to the bedroom.
My bed has been rearranged, the pillows fluffier and arranged for me to sit up comfortable. Voss places me down on the red blankets.
“Get comfortable,” he says, and I immediately obey. He’s using his charming tone here, the one he’s perfected to get what he wants, and I’m more than willing to please. He smiles as I get settled and gives me a nod. “I’ll go get you some tea. Do you want your kindle?”
I nod, despite it only being on my side table and easily in reach—you know, if I could make myself leave this warm nest I’ve just got into—and he grins and grabs it off the side table for me. He’s acting like this is normal. Like I’m not some depressed weirdo who needed carried to the bathroom so that I didn’t wee the bed. Like I didn’t just refuse to brush my teeth, like a tramp, when it would take literally two minutes.
