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Chapter 8
Dušan
Istare at my Fourth. “She may be an Omega, but there’s more to her.”
Bardhyl nods. “I’ve never heard of a wolf being sick like this before, except for Omegas who are in pain from their heat cycle. But not vomiting blood.”
My body definitely responds around Meira's body, and my wolf insists we claim her… so it’s a possibility. Not every female wolf is an Omega. But only Meira draws me with such compelling energy, and none of the other Omegas I’ve met have shown the symptoms Meira has during heat—bedridden and looking physically ill with pasty skin.
“Could she be carrying a virus? A precursor to becoming an undead?” I ask, my gut tightening at the thought that if she is, I’ll have to get rid of her.
Bardhyl thinks about it for a second. He’s from Denmark and looks every bit like his Viking ancestors… sandy blond hair worn loose over his shoulders. He’s a warrior at heart and looks like one, towering over most. He’s fierce and will never back away from a battle, which is one of the reasons he’s on my team.
“Doubt it,” he answers. “Otherwise, you’d show signs of being sick after the time you spent with her, and I’ve never seen an undead infection take this long to take over a new host.”
“I guess,” I say. We both stride along the outside of the fortress, my head trying to make sense of what we’re dealing with. “I keep running every possible scenario through my head. Like she can’t be a half-breed, or she’d be dead already at her age. So that can’t be it.”
The forest descends away from the fortress and goes all the way down to the metal fence, where there are more wolves running around in the woods.
“The blood sample Lucien took from Meira is still with our lab,” he explains. “We’re lacking all the technologies to do extensive testing, so it’s just going to take a bit.”
A black wolf darts through the woods inside the fence, followed by four others. As our pack grows, the space becomes limited for shifters needing freedom.
Bang. Bang.
I look over to the front gate, at the guards in the tower, taking out the approaching undead.
“There’re more and more lately,” Bardhyl says. “It’s like something is calling them here.”
I cut him a look, because I’ve had the same thought. For weeks now, the infected have appeared more frequently around our perimeter. “Can you look into that?”
He gives a quick nod, and his shoulders broaden. “I’m going down there,” my Fourth says, then he lunges into a sprint down the hill—while I turn and march back into the fortress to pay Meira another visit.
Two nights. That’s how long I’ve slept in the spare room, and each time I go into my bedroom, Meira is fast asleep, so what exactly is going on with that hellcat. I need to talk to her, so she better be awake.
There’s no way I can send her to Ander in this state, so I’ve avoided calling him until I understand what I’m dealing with. Part of me wonders if I should swallow my pride and promise Ander a different female. He’ll know no matter what… We send him a full spec sheet of every female we deliver.
I seethe at the idea of not keeping my word, since that doesn’t make for a very trusting business relationship. We may be from different packs and wolf species, but at the core, we aren’t too dissimilar. Which means my inability to deliver what I initially promised is a strike against our growing business partnership. I can’t afford for the X-Clan Wolves to have any doubts about dealing with me. All the pack members under my care depend on me supplying medicine and technologies to better protect us and to hunt down food.
Morning sunlight pours through the arched window of the steadfast castle as I stride through its corridors, only the echo of my boots striking the cobblestone floor resonates through the fortress.
I push open my bedroom door and walk straight in out of pure habit, then halt, guilt punching me in the gut from just barging in here.
Meira is bowed over my trashcan, heaving into it.
I cross the room in three strides. “Meira, are you okay?”
She wipes the back of her mouth and straightens herself, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are watery, as if she’s been crying.
Steeling her posture, she tries to smile, but I see the pain she’s in. “I feel better now,” she admits.
My chest tightens at seeing her in agony. I’ll never forgive myself if she dies while under my care. I reach down and take her hand. It’s clammy to the touch. “I know exactly what you need.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” she croaks, trying her best to act normal, but I can see right through her lie.
“You’ll see.” I take her with me, but not before I take a quick look into the trashcan and see blood.
Fuck!She’s really sick… except, I don’t understandwhy.
