As I regain my composure, I notice more details about my surroundings. I gaze downward, my eyes taking in the sight of numerous tubes piercing my fragile hand. It’s hard not to notice how weak I am with my bones protruding and my skin so pale it’s translucent. Metallic rods prop up my aching leg, secured by an intricate web of cage-like contraptions.
My heart sinks. What have they done to me? The air is heavy against my chest as my breathing quickens once more, a rapid rhythm that matches the hard pounding of my heart.
They’ve trapped me like a wild animal.
I’m the only one who can keep you safe. I only hurt you because I care. You’re not strong enough to make it without me.Aidan’s voice sounds out in my head as tears spring from my eyes.
I can’t breathe.
What if, after everything I’ve been through, this is it? What if they give me back to him? My heart feels like it’s being torn apart, the crushing weight of sorrow pressing against my chest. The air is heavy with the scent of my despair, a bitter reminder of my emotional turmoil. Every beat of my broken heart is a sharp stab, each pulse resonating through my entire body, sending tremors of anguish through my veins.
Warm hands land on my shoulders, and I flinch hearing a deep male voice. My panic intensifies as blackness encroaches on my vision. I raise my eyes and see the shifter who brought me here. He’s telling me to breathe, but doesn’t he realize I can’t?
And yet, I know I must regain my ability to function.Come on, Emily. Think about everything you have survived already.
“You’re okay, Emily. Everything is okay; just breathe. You needed surgery, but Doc said everything went well. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
I don’t know why I believe him, but I find myself able to gulp deep breaths. I focus my mind as I’ve learned to do. My panic attacks have never saved me in the past, and I’ve had to find ways of coming back to reality. My heart starts to ease its relentless pounding ever so slightly and as my breathing steadies, I can take in his appearance. Jackson’s light brown hair is in a mess and his five o’clock shadow has turned into more of a beard.
“How long have I been out?” I ask. My voice is hoarse, cracked like dry earth. My throat aches, but that is the least of my worries.
“You’ve been in and out for the past two days. Doc said you had a nasty infection, and you had to recover from surgery too.” He goes to the end of my bed, where he fills a cupof water before handing it to me. And because I’ve been so starved of affection, I can’t help the butterflies that erupt in my stomach.
So pathetic.
That Jackson looks so disheveled right now makes me think he was sleeping in the chair beside me. Has he been here all this time? My wolf is purring as she awakens and seems completely content with the idea of him watching over us as we sleep.Eh, hello missy, you’re supposed to have my back!
I’m surprised the thought doesn’t fill me with anxiety. I should be terrified. But instead, the swarm of butterflies turns into a storm, flapping furiously and spreading an electric tension through my whole body.
“Have you been here all this time?”
“Uh yeah, I didn’t want you to be alone,” he mumbles. He glances away, seeming almost shy, but that’s absurd. Men who look as good as him are unequivocally not shy. But there’s something else going on, too—a hint of deception in his woodsy scent. I can’t detect changes in scent as easily as an Alpha, Beta, or Delta, but I can still pick up on it a little.
I need to be cautious here.
My pulse quickens as I observe him. My hands tremble as I fight against my instincts for fight or flight. I take deep breaths, trying to push my fear down. I don’t want him to see how scared I am. I clasp my hands together, seeking solace in their touch, attempting to steady the storm raging inside.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. A little sore, but nothing unbearable.”
“Really?” His eyebrows rise towards his hairline. “Doc said to expect worse, but maybe your wolf has already healed you more than he anticipated. I’ll call him in now and let him know you’re awake.”
I must have dozed off again, as I’m awoken by a heated exchange between Jackson and who I assume must be the doctor outside my door.
“What’s going on?”
The doctor, an older shifter with gray hair and wiry eyebrows, shakes his head as he continues into the room. His hand, calloused and warm, takes my hand as he looks down at me. His eyes crinkle into a kind and reassuring gaze.
“Hi Emily, I’m Dr. Hanson, but everyone calls me Doc. I was just encouraging Jack to wait outside while I talked to you.”
His eyes narrow into a frosty glare as he shoots Jackson a withering look, but when he turns back to me, his expression softens, and he regards me with kind yet firm eyes. He radiates a gentle yet authoritative aura that instantly soothes me. I can detect Jackson’s status now and I know he outranks the pack doctor and yet, Doc gives the impression that he has absolute control.
It’s nothing like when I saw the pack doctor in Blood Moon. I only saw him when my wolf couldn’t heal the more severe or critical injuries. He never addressed me directly, and he never questioned where my injuries came from. I guess he didn’t have to. He seemed to struggle with how to respond to me outside of resetting my bones and stitching me up. I guess the unwritten rules of Blood Moon, which demanded silence or exile, conflicted with his oath as a doctor.
Not enough for him to intervene, obviously.
“Oh, that’s okay, he can stay.” Jackson looks relieved as he walks back to his seat, glaring at Doc.
