Page 42 of Awakened By the Guardian

“The hell you don’t!” Vic snapped. “Now calm your jets. We can try again in a few days.”

But he couldn’t. “The power is fading. I don’t want⁠—”

Vic would have none of it. “I don’t want to stink when I shift. Too fucking bad. Your body isn’t ready to try again. That’s probably why it didn’t work this time. We’re lucky something worse didn’t happen.”

Gary sighed. He knew there was no sense in arguing, Vic had made up his mind, and that was the end of it. But there was tap water at his apartment just like here. He could guzzle it at home just as easily.

“Let me add something else,” Vic said, apparently reading his thoughts. “If I find out that you tried again on your own, I’ll call my friend Dr. Lu at the CDC and let her bleed you and poke you and do god only knows what until you wish your only problem was being paralyzed. Do you hear me? This is not something to fuck around with. I can’t have you hurting innocents.”

Gary’s gut clenched, and his head spun from sudden cold. “Call the CDC? You can’t do that,” he said.

Gary’s father stepped forward, his mouth a hard, flat line. “He can, son. He can administer clan justice by clan law. And that’s one of the bad things about being magical in a scientific world. There’s always someone who wants to know what’s going on, someone who isn’t too particular about who they hurt to get answers.” He glanced at Vic. “That serum originally came from one of our own—a shifter, a cougar bitch who was experimenting on our young. Stole them right out from under our noses and injected them. It…it was bad, son. And most of the CDC would do the same or worse if they were told what you are. They’d cut you up and test all the pieces.”

Margaret shook her head. “That can’t be true. They wouldn’t do that. This is America.”

Sweet, naïve Margaret. Of course they would. Gary could see the grim knowledge on his father’s face. And Vic’s. This city was in lockdown with a terrible “plague” that turned people into monsters, and regular people couldn’t even begin to fathom what that was about. The situation outside these walls was ugly and getting uglier, and he’d been selfish to demand his answers now and in way that might endanger other people. And yet, his opportunity was fading.

“Fine,” he said, though it nearly killed him. “I’ll wait.” His gaze cut to Vic’s. “But I won’t promise to wait more than a day.”

“Three,” Vic decreed, his eyes tortured. “No shit, Gary, I’m not playing here. You tried and failed. You need to recuperate or the next time will be worse. Remember what I said? Many people like me—hybrids—lose their frontal cortex. They go crazy and start killing people. It could easily happen to you. Maybe it almost did.”

“No,” Margaret breathed.

Vic nodded. “Yes.”

Margaret stared at him, seeming to sense something in the beta’s words that Gary hadn’t. “Are you okay?”

There was a flash of pain in Vic’s eyes. Then a cocky grin. “I’m shitting sunshine and rainbows.”

“So long as that’s healthy,” she said.

The beta shook his head and eyed her. “I’m a hybrid, sweetie, a brand-new species of shifter. Nobody knows what ‘healthy’ is. Not even our friend at the CDC.” He cut his gaze back to Gary. “But this is about you. Rest and recover. Let your body be at its peak when you try again. Or else.”

Gary was about to answer, but Vic’s cell beeped. He pulled it out of his shorts with a grunt, looked at it and said, “It’s Simon. You going to stay and meet your new alpha? Or are you going to go home and recuperate?”

Margaret’s breath was still short and tight, Gary saw. Her asthma always got worse when she was emotional, and he’d asked enough of her over the past two days. It was tempting to stay and petition the alpha for another chance to attempt a change, but⁠—

“We’ll go,” he said to Margaret. “You need your medicine.”

She nodded, obviously relieved.

Turning to his father, Gary gestured for his wheelchair. “Help me into that, will you Dad?”

Might as well accept that he probably wasn’t ever getting out of it.

CHAPTER 12

Margaret didn’t speak on the drive back to their apartment building. It was just her and Gary, with her driving. Mr. Baldner was taking a shift at the Griz base, so he’d stayed behind. That left her navigating the city streets and watching around every corner for a riot to break out or a rampaging hybrid.

Not that they saw any.

Five minutes away from their building, Gary spoke up from the back. She’d known when they locked in his wheelchair that he was descending into a dark place; he wouldn’t look her in the eye, and his shoulders were slumped as if he carried the weight of the world. She wanted to reach out to him, wanted to comfort him somehow, but what could she say—thanks for the amazing orgasm, so sorry it didn’t work out for you? He didn’t want platitudes, and he sure as hell didn’t want false promises. So she’d remained silent and watched for chaos in a city on edge.

“I’m sorry, Margaret. I’m…I’m just sorry.”

“For what?”

“For scaring you. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”